A Cure for Insomnia - repost
Author's website: http://snycock.livejournal.com
Not mine, no money, etc., etc., etc.
Written for LiveJournal Sentinel Thursday challenge #153 - insomnia. Not betaed, so all mistakes are mine.
This story is a sequel to:
Jim flipped the catch and pushed the seat of the truck back as far as it would go, giving himself room to stretch his legs. If he had to be on this ridiculous stakeout, he was going to be comfortable. Or at least comfortable as possible.
The witness, Bonnie Danvers, was in a Federal safe house somewhere in the Midwest. She had worked as a secretary for Tony Lonzano, one of the biggest Mafia organizers on the West Coast. When she agreed to turn state's evidence against him, the Feds were ecstatic. Unfortunately, she was good "friends" - and Jim had a pretty good idea exactly how to interpret that - with Cascade's mayor, and Simon had been summarily ordered to put a 24-hour stakeout on Danvers' house. Seems she feared that someone would vandalize her property while she was spilling her guts to the Feds.
That had been a week ago. He had spent every night this week parked in front of her house, and it was driving him crazy. Partly because it was hard for him to sleep during the day, with his senses; partly because it meant he didn't get enough time to work on his current cases; but mostly because, for the last week, he'd hardly seen Blair at all. Blair was in the middle of finals at the university, and their contact had been limited to a brief kiss in the morning, as he was coming home and Blair was leaving. And he was sick of it. He missed Blair, missed him snuggling close as they were falling asleep, missed waking up in the morning surrounded by his scent, missed his touch, his look, his laugh...
Okay, there, fella, cool down, he told himself, or this is going to be one long, uncomfortable night. He glanced at his watch. Just past 2 am. A little over halfway done. He sighed and let his head fall back against the seat.
A tapping on the passenger side window jerked him out of his reverie. He turned his head and saw Blair standing outside the truck. He toggled the unlock switch and reached over to open the door. "Chief, what are you doing here?" he asked, surprised, as Blair climbed in and closed the door behind him. He was wearing a oversized, dark trenchcoat that reached nearly to his ankles, and had a canvas bag slung over his shoulder.
"Finals are over as of today...uh, I mean yesterday, I guess. Figured I'd come down here and keep you company," Blair said. He was shivering. Jim turned the ignition key to auxiliary and flipped on the heater.
"Not that I'm not appreciative," Jim said, smiling, "but I'll be home in four hours. You could have stayed in the loft and caught some sleep."
Blair slid across the seat towards him. "I tried," he said, the hint of a whine in his voice. "I couldn't sleep. Miss you too much. It's been, like, a week since I've seen you for more than a few minutes." He reached up, curved his hand around the back of Jim's neck, and pulled Jim to him for a kiss. Jim returned it, welcoming the feel of Blair's mouth against his, warm and firm. When they broke apart, Blair added, "And I know a great cure for insomnia."
Jim stroked his thumb across the stubble on Blair's jaw and caressed the sensitive spot under his ear. Blair shivered, and Jim grinned. "A cure for insomnia, huh?"
Blair moved so he was straddling Jim's lap, knees on either side of his hips. He took Jim's face in his hands and kissed him again, his tongue sliding gently into Jim's mouth. Jim savored the rich taste of him, slightly spicy, overlaid with tea and toothpaste.
He slid his hands under the trenchcoat and up Blair's thighs, taking pleasure in the ticklish sensation of soft, fine hair against his palms. But he stopped in confusion when he realized that all he was feeling was skin. "Sandburg," he said, "are you wearing anything underneath this coat?" Blair raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Jim stared at him in amazement. "You drove down here like that?" he asked.
"Actually," Blair said, grinning, "I took the bus."
"Christ, Sandburg," Jim murmured weakly, suddenly wildly aroused, his cock straining inside his jeans, "you're going to be the death of me." He slid his hands up farther, cupping Blair's ass and pulling him in for a hot, hard kiss. When they separated, he unbuttoned the trenchcoat slowly, letting it fall open and letting his hands and eyes roam over Blair's lithe, strong body. "God, Blair," he whispered, "you're so beautiful." He skated his hands lightly across Blair's broad chest, stopping only to roll and pinch the dusky nipples. Blair arched into his touch, moaning softly. Jim slid one hand down to rest on Blair's hip, then gave the proud cock jutting from the nest of soft, dark hair an appreciative stroke with the other hand. Blair moaned again and shivered.
Then Blair's fingers were fumbling at his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it out of his jeans. He leaned forward and fastened his mouth on Jim's chest, teasing the nipple erect with lips, tongue, and teeth. Jim groaned and let his head fall back, his hand coming up to cup the back of Blair's head, his fingers twining in the dark curls. It felt like Blair's mouth was connected directly to his cock. Just when Jim thought he couldn't take any more, Blair smoothly moved his attention to the other side, his hands undoing Jim's belt and unzipping his jeans.
Blair slid off his lap and tugged his jeans and boxers to his ankles, pausing on the way down to lick the gleaming drops of pre-come off the head of his cock. Jim groaned, and Blair straddled him again, sliding his hips up so their cocks rubbed together, hot and hard and slick.
Jim grasped Blair's hips, sliding his hands around to knead his ass, perfectly happy to finish like this. But it seemed Blair had other ideas. "Want you inside me," he whispered hoarsely, pulling a tube of lube from a pocket in the trenchcoat. He pushed it into Jim's hand, and Jim obediently slicked up his fingers and pushed one into Blair's opening.
He worked slowly and gradually, stretching Blair, teasing him with occasional gentle brushes over his prostate that made him gasp and push back. When Blair was ready, he took the lube back and slicked Jim up, then positioned himself over Jim's cock and lowered himself down slowly. Jim almost lost it right then, the sensation of heat and tightness was so overpowering, and he grabbed Blair's hips firmly to prevent him from moving, at least until he had a chance to get his reactions under control. "God...Blair..." he moaned, resting his forehead against Blair's.
"Shhhh," Blair murmured, his hand stroking the back of Jim's neck, "I've got you." He started moving his hips in a slow, smooth rhythm. Jim captured his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss and slid his hand down between them. He took Blair's cock in a light grip and started stroking it slowly, matching his touch to the motion of Blair's hips. He smiled as he felt Blair whimper against his mouth, then pulled away so he could see Blair.
He loved to watch Blair's face at times like this. Under normal conditions it was difficult for Blair to hide his reactions; when they were together like this, it was impossible. Every thought, every feeling, every sensation was reflected instantly on that beautiful and expressive face. His eyes were closed, head thrown back to expose the strong lines of his throat. He could tell that Blair was close; the lines around his mouth deepened and a small furrow appeared between his brows. Jim rocked his hips gently, in time with Blair's movements, and kept a firm yet slow and smooth rhythm going on his cock. With his other hand, he reached out and brushed his fingers down Blair's cheek. "Love you, Chief," he said softly. Blair's eyes flew open, shining with joy, and held his.
"L-love you, too...oh...oh, Jim," he whispered, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused and his breath coming in ragged, short gasps as his cock pulsed and warm musky fluid spread over Jim's hand.
As always, the sight, sound, feel, and smell of his lover's release sent Jim plummeting over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of Blair's neck and emptied himself into him, murmuring his name like a prayer.
He lay back against the seat, cradling Blair against him, relishing the feel of his lover's warm and sturdy body against his. He sank into the sensation, expanding his awareness of Blair's body where it rested against him, until the distinction between them faded and he wasn't entirely sure where he ended and Blair began. He took a deep breath, parsing out the smells filling the small cab of the truck - arousal, lube, semen, sweat - until he found the distinctive scent that characterized a happy and well-laid Blair. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent surround him and penetrate him, and it was as if Blair was inside him, or he was inside Blair...like they had merged into one person...and he relaxed, savoring the closeness, the intense sense of connection.
He could have floated there happily for hours, but after a short time he felt a gentle vibration that reverberated through them, slowly shaking them apart, transforming them back into two separate people. He slowly realized that the vibration was Blair, humming softly against his neck. He stopped when Jim sighed and said, amused, "Hey, you zoning on me?"
"A little," Jim acknowledged, a sheepish grin on his face. "Insomnia cured?"
Blair sat up, weaving slightly. His eyes were sleepy, half-lidded, and his pupils were huge. He looks stoned, Jim thought, smiling. "Yeah," he yawned, and pulled a baggie out of one of the coat pockets. He opened the baggie and pulled out a damp washcloth, gave it to Jim, and took another one out for himself. They gently cleaned each other up, and as Jim pulled his underwear and jeans back up and buttoned his shirt, Blair wrapped himself up in the oversized coat and lay down on the seat, his head pillowed on Jim's thigh.
"Hey," Jim said, "how am I going to explain you in the morning?"
"Who's relieving you?"
Blair waved a hand dismissively. "She won't be surprised. She already knows about us."
Jim snorted, but reached behind the seat, pulled out an old blanket he kept there for emergencies, and covered Blair with it.
"Thanks, man," Blair said, his voice already growing faint with sleep. "Oh, I almost forgot, there's a thermos of coffee and a sandwich in the bag."
"Thanks, Chief," Jim said appreciatively. He stroked Blair's head until he heard his breathing settle into the slow, regular rhythms of sleep, then reached for the bag.
Megan parked her car in front of Jim's truck and got out, balancing a cardboard tray of coffee cups precariously in one hand. As she came up to the truck, Jim rolled down his window and accepted one of the cups gratefully. She peered in the window. "Picking up vagrants now, are we, Ellison?" she said in an amused tone.
A hand emerged from the pile of blanket and coat on the seat, middle finger extended. Jim chuckled, and Megan made a tsking sound. "And after I brought you coffee, mate," she said.
Blair sat up abruptly, blinking sleepily, hair a wild riot around his head. He reached for the coffee, wrapped his hands around it and inhaled greedily. "Mmmm, coffee," he said to Megan. "I think I love you."
"Hey!" Jim said, mock irritation in his tone.
"She brought me coffee."
"She only brought you coffee because I called her and asked her to."
"Oh." Blair blinked soulfully at Jim. "Then I love you."
Megan snorted and turned to Jim. "Simon says to take the day off."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "The stakeout's been called off? What happened?"
"Nothing happened," Megan said. "Simon's just planning to go into the Commissioner's office this morning and show him how much money we're losing putting our best detectives on a pointless stakeout. He figures once he does that, mayor's friend or no, the stakeout will get called off."
"Couldn't happen soon enough for my taste," Jim grumbled. Balancing his coffee in one hand, he started the truck. "We're out of here, Connor. Good luck."
As they drove off, Blair yawned. "So, back home to crash for a few more hours, huh?"
"I don't know, Chief," Jim said, turning and grinning at him. "I'm not feeling very tired. I think I might have some trouble getting to sleep."
"Oh, well," Blair said, smiling back, "I've got a cure for that."
A Cure for Insomnia - repost by PsychGirl: email@example.com
Author and story notes above.
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.