(Horrifically) belated birthday fic (TS) for Jane Davitt
Fandom: The Sentinel
Title: One of Jim's
Word count: ~ 790
Type: Slash
Rating: R (language, mild -- really mild -- porn)
Look! I still write! :-)
This ficlet was meant to be a birthday ficlet for janedavitt, following a long-standing tradition. Then I got all tangled up in life. And stayed tangled up. For a ridiculously long time.
But hey, it's finished now, Jane. Happy birthday May 2013! And 2014!
Ahem. Seriously, though, you were absolutely the best enabler when I was new to TS; you brought me to LJ (which I hope to be able to spend more time on again sometime soon; geez-o-pete I miss LJ); you taught me so much about writing, just by sharing your fic with us. So I kind of always feel like celebrating you. And I also feel like celebrating your good news -- I didn't get a chance to comment on your "things are okay!" post, but wow, so really glad and relieved when I read that.
So yay, Jane!
One of Jim's
"Jim? Not a lot of room on my bed, man. You'll fall off, or I'll fall off, or…" Blair's voice trailed away as his foot caught on the edge of the rug, and he stumbled a little. It was hard to walk - be walked - backwards while that particular place on his neck was being licked and while Jim had his hands locked around Blair's biceps, thumbs massaging the front of the muscle.
There was a wordless sound against Blair's throat, and Jim's mouth moved an inch higher. Blair tilted his head further back. So what, if they both fell down.
He felt the mattress against the back of his legs only vaguely, because Jim had started to suck as well as to lick, and it wasn't until Jim stopped doing anything - well, anything except pressing the muscled length of his body down against Blair and watching him through half-lidded eyes - that Blair fully realized they were both lying down.
And both wearing way too much. "Clothes," he pointed out on a panted breath. Poor planning on Jim's part; the futon wasn't so roomy that peeling everything off without at least one of them getting up for a minute was going to be easy. But hey, what was life without challenge, right? He reached for the hem of Jim's T-shirt.
Jim caught his hand. "No. Not this time. Not yet," he said, leaning down to tease Blair's mouth with an unfairly there-and-gone kiss. "This is one of mine, okay? From before. I, uh…I would walk by your room, you'd be stretched out on your bed, studying, and I…"
"Oh," Blair said. Oh. Yeah, okay. He shifted a little, deliberately, under Jim's weight. The last time they'd done this - not this, but this - it had been one of Blair's: the one that started out with Jim sitting at the table with a cup of coffee like he was about to head off to work, all everyday and ordinary -
Like Jim could ever be ordinary.
God. Jim sitting there like that, sitting there with his shoulder holster strapped on, danger and safety all wrapped up together - danger and safety, yin and yang, push and pull -
"Will you stop thinking about that?" Jim sounded exasperated. His hand was cupping Blair's jaw, though, his thumb dragging back and forth gently against the stubble, and yeah, sure, Blair could - probably - stop thinking about that, about Jim like that, and think about this. For now.
Except…. "Okay, how did you know what I was -"
"You're not exactly subtle, Sandburg."
Blair scowled at him; that he didn't put much heat into the scowl had absolutely nothing to do with the trail of sparks Jim's thumb seemed to be leaving along Blair's jaw line, sparks that were sinking into Blair's skin and migrating south. Very effectively south.
"Can we get back to business here?" Jim said, and Blair nodded. It was more a push of his chin into Jim's hand than a nod, but Jim's eyes darkened a little, so he probably got it.
"Good," Jim said - hoarsely, so yeah, he definitely got it - and he settled his weight a little more firmly against Blair. "My dime, so listen up." One corner of his mouth had quirked up, and Blair craned his head up from the pillow, chasing after that barely visible smile. He didn't catch nearly as much of it as he wanted to, though, crap; Jim pulled away from the kiss too soon, shaking his head, with a muttered, "Stop distracting me."
That was too good to pass up. "Make me?" Blair offered, rocking his hips upward to grind against Jim.
Jim's eyes darkened a little more. "Oh, I will." His voice was so quiet it was more a whisper than anything else, and so filled with promise that Blair's cock throbbed with every syllable like it had been wired to receive sound.
Well, wired for Jim. Jim, like this.
Okay, admit it, wired for Jim no matter what, no matter how - shit, no matter why - but like this? God, yes.
How was it that everything about Jim pushed Blair's limits?
Buttons. He meant 'buttons.'
"You still with me, Chief?"
Blair cleared his throat as Jim brushed his fingers across Blair's lips, and his answering "Yeah" was muffled against Jim's skin. "Yeah," he said again, "okay. So, one of yours, huh?" Jim's thumb kept up its slow drag across Blair's five-o-clock shadow and Blair kind of wanted to whimper. Just from that. Fuck. "You drive, man," he added, and if he had to clear his throat again, so what?
The thumb kept moving. "I intended to."
Jim's dime. Blair could work with that.
One of Jim's.
Jim's. Yeah.
Blair could totally work with that.
Title: One of Jim's
Word count: ~ 790
Type: Slash
Rating: R (language, mild -- really mild -- porn)
Look! I still write! :-)
This ficlet was meant to be a birthday ficlet for janedavitt, following a long-standing tradition. Then I got all tangled up in life. And stayed tangled up. For a ridiculously long time.
But hey, it's finished now, Jane. Happy birthday May 2013! And 2014!
Ahem. Seriously, though, you were absolutely the best enabler when I was new to TS; you brought me to LJ (which I hope to be able to spend more time on again sometime soon; geez-o-pete I miss LJ); you taught me so much about writing, just by sharing your fic with us. So I kind of always feel like celebrating you. And I also feel like celebrating your good news -- I didn't get a chance to comment on your "things are okay!" post, but wow, so really glad and relieved when I read that.
So yay, Jane!
One of Jim's
"Jim? Not a lot of room on my bed, man. You'll fall off, or I'll fall off, or…" Blair's voice trailed away as his foot caught on the edge of the rug, and he stumbled a little. It was hard to walk - be walked - backwards while that particular place on his neck was being licked and while Jim had his hands locked around Blair's biceps, thumbs massaging the front of the muscle.
There was a wordless sound against Blair's throat, and Jim's mouth moved an inch higher. Blair tilted his head further back. So what, if they both fell down.
He felt the mattress against the back of his legs only vaguely, because Jim had started to suck as well as to lick, and it wasn't until Jim stopped doing anything - well, anything except pressing the muscled length of his body down against Blair and watching him through half-lidded eyes - that Blair fully realized they were both lying down.
And both wearing way too much. "Clothes," he pointed out on a panted breath. Poor planning on Jim's part; the futon wasn't so roomy that peeling everything off without at least one of them getting up for a minute was going to be easy. But hey, what was life without challenge, right? He reached for the hem of Jim's T-shirt.
Jim caught his hand. "No. Not this time. Not yet," he said, leaning down to tease Blair's mouth with an unfairly there-and-gone kiss. "This is one of mine, okay? From before. I, uh…I would walk by your room, you'd be stretched out on your bed, studying, and I…"
"Oh," Blair said. Oh. Yeah, okay. He shifted a little, deliberately, under Jim's weight. The last time they'd done this - not this, but this - it had been one of Blair's: the one that started out with Jim sitting at the table with a cup of coffee like he was about to head off to work, all everyday and ordinary -
Like Jim could ever be ordinary.
God. Jim sitting there like that, sitting there with his shoulder holster strapped on, danger and safety all wrapped up together - danger and safety, yin and yang, push and pull -
"Will you stop thinking about that?" Jim sounded exasperated. His hand was cupping Blair's jaw, though, his thumb dragging back and forth gently against the stubble, and yeah, sure, Blair could - probably - stop thinking about that, about Jim like that, and think about this. For now.
Except…. "Okay, how did you know what I was -"
"You're not exactly subtle, Sandburg."
Blair scowled at him; that he didn't put much heat into the scowl had absolutely nothing to do with the trail of sparks Jim's thumb seemed to be leaving along Blair's jaw line, sparks that were sinking into Blair's skin and migrating south. Very effectively south.
"Can we get back to business here?" Jim said, and Blair nodded. It was more a push of his chin into Jim's hand than a nod, but Jim's eyes darkened a little, so he probably got it.
"Good," Jim said - hoarsely, so yeah, he definitely got it - and he settled his weight a little more firmly against Blair. "My dime, so listen up." One corner of his mouth had quirked up, and Blair craned his head up from the pillow, chasing after that barely visible smile. He didn't catch nearly as much of it as he wanted to, though, crap; Jim pulled away from the kiss too soon, shaking his head, with a muttered, "Stop distracting me."
That was too good to pass up. "Make me?" Blair offered, rocking his hips upward to grind against Jim.
Jim's eyes darkened a little more. "Oh, I will." His voice was so quiet it was more a whisper than anything else, and so filled with promise that Blair's cock throbbed with every syllable like it had been wired to receive sound.
Well, wired for Jim. Jim, like this.
Okay, admit it, wired for Jim no matter what, no matter how - shit, no matter why - but like this? God, yes.
How was it that everything about Jim pushed Blair's limits?
Buttons. He meant 'buttons.'
"You still with me, Chief?"
Blair cleared his throat as Jim brushed his fingers across Blair's lips, and his answering "Yeah" was muffled against Jim's skin. "Yeah," he said again, "okay. So, one of yours, huh?" Jim's thumb kept up its slow drag across Blair's five-o-clock shadow and Blair kind of wanted to whimper. Just from that. Fuck. "You drive, man," he added, and if he had to clear his throat again, so what?
The thumb kept moving. "I intended to."
Jim's dime. Blair could work with that.
One of Jim's.
Jim's. Yeah.
Blair could totally work with that.