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You Like Tongue?

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You Like Tongue?

by Sinistral

The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly, Paramount, UPN and all those other people who aren't me.

Many thanks go to Alison and Erilyn for beta services. Apologies to Janet - I couldn't wait!

This is a pop-tart, just to see if I can carry it off.


Jim shut the door behind Naomi and turned around, leaning back against it. He looked like he was stifling a grin. Blair didn't wait for him to speak; he just jumped right in.

"Since when do you eat tongue, man?" he demanded. "Whatever happened to your whole 'nothing from the head of an animal' standard from a few days ago?" He felt almost betrayed by Jim's sudden backflip on the matter.

"Naomi happened," Jim said easily, walking over and sprawling comfortably on the sofa. He surveyed the room thoughtfully. "You know, I think she has a point. The sofa just feels ... I don't know, healthier over here." He laced his hands behind his head and relaxed into the cushions. "I like it."

Blair stared in disbelief at the man who was allegedly Detective James Ellison. "What is this?" he asked suspiciously. "Jim, what is with you? Are you listening to yourself? You're agreeing with my mother here. My hippy dippy mother. My mother, Jim!" He squinted. "Are you feeling okay?"

Jim just smiled lazily at the ceiling. "Yep." His glance towards Blair was sly. "She's a great lady, Chief. You're a lucky guy."

Blair left the kitchen and went to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of Jim. "Jim, get a grip," he pleaded. "I'm freaking out here. I mean, she got you to eat tongue, for crying out loud!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I would've bet a million that she couldn't get you to like it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Jim asked reasonably. "You do."

There was something about his tone that made Blair stop and look at him a little closer. Jim was still relaxed, but his eyes were intent, a message there that Blair couldn't quite read.

//Liar,// a small voice whispered. //You know that look.//

He told it to shut up. Whatever it was that Jim was trying to tell him, that wasn't it. Couldn't be.

"Yeah, I do," he said at last. "I guess I just ... hadn't expected that you would."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Chief," Jim answered. He sent another veiled look in Blair's direction.

Blair swallowed heavily, suddenly very aware of his position between Jim's spread knees. Time for a subject change, he decided.

"Who ever really knows anybody else?" he joked. "A little mystery is good for any relationship." Almost leaping to his feet, he chattered on. "I could use some more of that wine, how about you? I think we left the bottle in your room." He headed for the stairs, praying Jim wouldn't follow. He didn't, which meant Blair had a few precious seconds to collect himself, and retrieve the wine from beside the bed.

It also gave him time to notice once again just exactly how inviting Jim's bed looked. Big and warm and firm and comfortable, just like Jim himself.

//Get a grip, Sandburg,// he ordered himself. //Think of Rafe. Think of Simon, for God's sake.//

He went back downstairs clutching the bottle like a talisman. "Anyway, I'm glad you like Naomi," he said brightly. "It's good that you're getting along." Jim looked up, and he tried a smile. "Just don't get along too well, okay? I don't want to have to start calling you 'Dad'."

Jim gazed at him for a long moment. "I don't think that'll be an issue," he murmured cryptically. Blair tried to hold that gaze, but retreated in confusion to the kitchen after a few seconds to search for fresh wineglasses.

"Well, good," he said inanely, staring at the bottle and wondering how to work it. "That's good, I guess." Oh, right - pick it up there, tip it like that - he remembered now. "I mean, I don't want her to be unhappy - just the opposite. I just don't want ..."

Jim appeared beside him, leaning on the counter. "You don't want her being happy with me," he finished calmly. His eyes were full of laughter even while his face remained serene. "I get it, Chief." He picked up one of the glasses and took a sip of wine. "I hear that."

Blair laughed nervously and raised his own glass. "Okay," he said. "All right, then." //Safe. I think.// He tossed back the wine and reached for the bottle again. "This is good wine, huh?"

Jim's hand closed over his own on the bottle. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "Too good for you to knock it back like a cheap chianti." He gently removed the bottle from Blair's grip and recorked it, putting it back in the fridge. "Go sit down, Blair. You seem kind of tense."

Tense wasn't exactly the word, Blair thought, letting himself be led into the living room again. Mildly panicked was probably closer. Expectant, even. Definitely edgy. Jim was watching him like a hawk now, and everything he said was rife with double meanings. If Blair didn't know better, he'd swear that he ... that Jim was ...

//Oh, say it,// he thought wildly. //I'm getting cruised here. Jim is putting the moves on me.//

He felt his knees give way on the heels of that realisation. Fortunately there was an armchair behind him, so he didn't damage anything on the short trip down. Jim perched - perched?! - on the arm of the chair and grinned at him.

"Naomi told me all sorts of embarrassing stories about you, you know," he said, looking Blair up and down. "Apart from the Nixon thing, that is. I've seen all your baby photos. I know about the time you guys were in India and you wanted to own a magic flying carpet--"

Blair raised his hands. "Okay, okay," he said hurriedly. "I get the idea. You know about my off-the-wall childhood, you know about my first girlfriend - I get it, all right? I'm duly embarrassed here. You can stop now." //Please stop now,// he thought. This was hell on his self-image, not to mention his libido.

"Actually, she didn't mention your first girlfriend," Jim mused, casually throwing a leg over Blair's body to keep him in the chair. Blair stared at that muscular, heavy, warm leg in bemusement. "Your first boyfriend - now him I know about. David, wasn't that his name?" Jim gazed throughtfully at the ceiling. "Dark-haired, pretty cute, Naomi said. You were thirteen, if I remember correctly." Blair stared at him, openmouthed. Jim grinned again and gently pushed his mouth closed with a finger. "You started early on that side of the street. Me, I was twenty before I even dared think about it."

//He knows he knows he knows ... oh, fuck.//

Blair tried desperately to think of something casual to say. "Huh?"

"But then, we both know I have issues with repression," Jim continued, seemingly oblivious - until he suddenly swung his body around so that he was basically straddling Blair's lap. "I think you've helped me a lot with that." His smile was open and inviting and very, very dangerous to Blair's self-control.

Blair looked at his lapful of Jim Ellison - his heart's desire literally within his grasp - and said, "Unh."

"It's not a compliment," Jim continued blithely, shifting a bit. He pulled Blair's arms around his waist, where they held happily onto his hips with no regard for Blair's common sense. "It's just the truth. But I want to thank you anyway. You've done more for me in six months than a dozen therapists could do."

He leaned in and began to nuzzle Blair's neck, raising goosebumps everywhere. Blair swallowed again and tried to think past the lust rising inside him. "And this is how you want to show your appreciation?" he asked unevenly. "By showing me how open-minded and accepting you can be?" Jim's mouth stopped its soft movements on his skin. "That's really great, Jim," Blair babbled. "You've come a long way."

Jim pulled back to look at him. "You're an idiot, Sandburg," he said affectionately. His mouth was glistening slightly. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would do this to show appreciation of your professional abilities?"

Blair gazed blankly at him. "No way," he muttered, not in answer to the question. "Oh, man, there is no way I would've missed it. It's just not possible - I would've seen, would've realised ... It's just not you," he explained incoherently, even as his hips started to arch up under Jim's weight. "You've got to be kidding me. You wouldn't ... you're not the type to like it."

"Why not?" Jim slid his fingers deep into Blair's hair. "You do."

He seemed to enjoy saying that. He also seemed to enjoy the texture of Blair's curls - he kept carding his fingers through them mindlessly. Blair tried not to just melt into that soft pulling feeling - he had to concentrate, he had to think ...

"Jim, I know you're a caring guy," he began. "You're my best friend - I know you better than anyone, right? That's why I can't believe you're doing this. You've never ... you can't do this!"

He had to stop there and catch his breath, because Jim was doing it ... Jim was worrying his earlobe with his teeth and stroking his hands slowly and firmly over Blair's nipples, which were tight and hard and itching for the feel of skin on skin. Then Jim pulled back again to look at him.

"Are you trying to tell me I can't swing both ways?" he asked, idly flicking open the buttons on Blair's shirt. "Because I've got to tell you, Chief, you're doing a really bad job of it. That particular decision was made twenty years ago." His grin flashed whitely in the darkening room. "You're good in an argument, but you're not that good." He dropped his head to Blair's nipple and began to lick it. "Don't let me stop you, though," he mumbled. "I'm all ears."

Blair's grip tightened hard on Jim's hips as streaks of pleasure shot through him from nipples to cock. Right now he couldn't remember his last name, much less marshal a convincing argument against Jim doing this, especially ... ooh ... especially when he was so damn good at it.

"Jesus," he hissed breathlessly. Jim hummed inquiringly against his chest, then sighed, and Blair's sense of self-preservation threw up its metaphysical hands in defeat and said, //To hell with it.//

"Fine. I give up," he gasped, finally pulled Jim closer to him. "Okay? I'm officially giving up now. You're right, I'm wrong, go ahead. You win."

Jim raised his head. His eyes were dilated with arousal. "Thank you," he said, and then he leaned forward and kissed Blair.

//Oh.// Blair sank into it, grabbed hold of Jim and let the kiss take him under. //Oh, man ...//

If he'd known it would be this good, he would've trapped Jim on the spot in the fucking hospital.

"Off," he gasped, coming up for air. "Clothes - off." He couldn't say any more, but thankfully Jim got the idea and began stripping out of his clothes. Blair stood on shaky legs and shrugged out of his shirt, then carefully unzipped his jeans and pushed them along with his (thankfully nondescript) boxers to the floor. Jim's eyes were glued to him, and he looked hungry.

"Upstairs. Now." His voice was very soft. Blair shivered and scrambled for the stairs, feeling his heart pound out of control. His thoughts were veering between the bed and Jim, picturing Jim on the bed, himself on the bed with Jim, and he knew he should slow it down because he was way too wired, but he couldn't stop. This was the realisation of six months' worth of fantasising, and even the thought that a comment from his mother had made it possible didn't help him to cool down.

Jim was right behind him, turning him around to kiss him again, his hands already roaming over Blair's body before they hit the sheets. Blair broke free to moan his appreciation and thrust into the warm firm hold Jim had on his cock, setting up a rhythm that had him on the edge of orgasm in less than a minute. Jim didn't try to slow him down - he gripped Blair tighter, tonguefucked his mouth in smooth counter-rhythm, and basically pushed him headlong into one of the most explosive orgasms he'd ever had. He shook and groaned and shivered through it, and Jim held him and petted him and put gentle, hungry kisses all over his face and neck. Blair held on to whatever parts of Jim he could reach and waited for his heart to stop thundering.

The whole thing had taken maybe five minutes. Not exactly the most impressive time ever.

He didn't really care.

"Wow," he muttered into Jim's chest. "I mean - wow."

"Yeah." Jim turned onto his back and pulled Blair up to lie beside him, cuddled close into his side. "I second that."

Blair mustered all his energy and raised his head to look down Jim's body. "Oh man, did you ...? Already?" he asked. Jim laughed and pulled his head back to pillow it on his shoulder.

"Yep. Sorry," he said, yawning. "You can watch next time."

"Watch?" Blair blinked. "Well, uh ..."

"If you want." Jim raised his eyebrows, amused again. "Don't you think it's a bit late to go all shrinking violet on me?" he said lazily.

Blair could feel a blush heating his face. "Um, I guess," he mumbled. "I just ... well, I've never actually, um, watched anyone before."

"That'll be first on the list, then," Jim promised, trailing his hand slowly over Blair's chest.

"You have a list?!"

~ END ~


End You Like Tongue? by Sinistral: sinistral_@hotmail.com

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Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.