Past Life Regression
Author's website: http://sassyinkpen.mediawood.com
Written for the LJ TS Secret Santa
This story is a sequel to:
Jim paused halfway up the last set of stairs and gazed incredulously at the wisps of delicate smoke that swirled around the corner and down past his feet. He'd been able to smell the incense from the front door of the building. He'd heard the drums from the truck. Hallmarks of Sandburg's de-stressing. Significant de-stressing from the smell of it.
Jim could hardly blame him. The bust had been a tough one and not that cleanly executed, although they got the guys in the end and that's what really counted. But shots had been fired, no one escaped a beating, and there was going to have to be a meeting with IA over some details of evidence gathering. By the time it was all over, Sandburg had gotten his bell rung more than once and returned the favor with interest. When the guys decided that a round or several of brew and bragging was in order, he'd begged off, saying he was going home to have a soak and rest up.
In spite of what Jim had already figured out with his senses, he was fully unprepared for the scene that met him when he opened his front door.
The air was thick with the combined smoke of a dozen sticks of incense spaced around the room, and at least twice as many candles. They were everywhere. They were also the only light in the loft. The room smelled heavy with amber and sandalwood. What had sounded like tribal drum music from the street, was now something dark and mysterious with reedy sounding instruments, and when the track on the player changed again it became sultry and complex with the flavor of an Indian restaurant. Books and woven tote-bags and odd little boxes covered one couch and the coffee table, contents spilled out all over the place.
In the middle of it all was Sandburg.
No...Blair. He was dancing with more abandon than grace, but oddly breathtaking all the same. Jim stood frozen in shock. Transfixed. Gone was the constant ponytail that Sandburg wore everyday now. Instead, Blair's hair hung loose and wild around his face the way it had when Jim met him. Blair was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only soft linen drawstring pants, but draped in necklaces and bracelets. There was even something braided around one ankle. He looked like free love and opium dens.
The thick scented smoke made Jim's head swim and tickled at the back of his throat, making him cough, which interrupted Blair's dance.
Blair spun around and stared at him a moment, then broke into a slow dark smile that sent shivers down Jim's spine. Blair reached for a glass on the table and drained its contents, then set it back down and advanced on Jim. "Have a good night out with the guys, Jim?"
"Uh. Yeah..." Jim didn't quite know what to make of this apparition that seemed like something out of his past, and at the same time something he'd never dealt with in his life. He realized that he was still standing in the open door and stepped in so he could swing it shut. It was like closing the door on an alternate universe, and he had no idea what the customs were.
"Lot of back slapping...arm punches?" Blair said, weaving closer, "Did you catch the end of the game?"
Jim furrowed his brow, "Some....Blair, what the hell?"
"That's good, Jim. That's really great. I mean, that's very you."
The vague scent of alcohol crept into Jim's awareness as Blair came to stop in front of him. Jim took a close look at his face, at the glassy look of his eyes and the tinge of pink high up on both cheeks. Blair was drunk. Part of the mystery clicked into place.
Jim cleared his throat. "I thought you were coming home to rest."
Blair shrugged and swayed slightly, then turned and drifted back into the living room, moving in time to the music. "Nope...been dancing with the Green Fairy instead, man."
"The green-? Oh, christ, you're not doing drugs up here, are you? You could lose your badge for that."
Blair snorted and did a kind of full-body eye roll as he picked up a bottle off the table and waved it at Jim. "Absinthe, Jim. I'm drinking absinthe. Sit down, I'll make you one."
"I don't thi-"
"Sit." Blair pointed at the sofa and gazed at Jim through the curtain of hair that fell in his face.
Jim sat. He watched as Blair took a second glass out of a wooden box on the floor and set it next to his own, and then poured a measure of green liquor into each one. The bracelets around Blair's wrist shifted artfully. When Jim focused on the bottle, he read the word ABSINTHE, and in smaller letters below it: Lemercier.
Blair caught him looking and grinned. He licked his lips. "Ever had absinthe?"
"Isn't that illegal?" There was something about the way Blair was looking at him that made the back of Jim's neck tingle.
"Not to own or drink," Blair told him as he swung a leg over the table and sat down on it facing Jim with the two glasses between his widespread legs.
Jim swallowed hard. His attention was drawn to Blair's hands and he found that he couldn't look away. He still couldn't really figure out what was going on.
Blair took a spoon that had what looked like flames cut out of it and laid it over the top of one glass. He set a sugar cube on top of that and then held a carafe of water high above it, pouring it so slowly that Jim could watch the individual drops fall from it.
"How long have I been a cop, Jim?" Blair's voice was low and smooth, his focus entirely on the water dripping down over the sugar.
It took Jim a moment to realize he'd even spoken. Shaking his head to clear it, Jim asked, "With or without a badge?"
"Five or six years, give or take," Jim said. "What's going on here, Blair? This is...this is weird."
"This is me, Jim." Blair's voice had a dangerous edge to it.
Jim took a deep breath, but got stung by the smoke again and ended up coughing. When he caught his breath, he said, "Could we put some of this out and open a window? This stuff is killing me."
"Suck it up, man. I go organically scent free, hypoallergenic, hermetically sealed for you all the time anymore."
"Don't say you're sorry," Blair said, "Just return the favor." Blair stopped pouring, removed the spoon and picked up the glass, holding it out for Jim.
Jim took it and adjusted to deal with the smoke and the strong smells. Even then, he felt as if he were under some strange spell. He didn't drink. Instead, he continued to watch Blair in the dim candlelight that glowed off his skin and hair.
Blair set the spoon and a sugar cube on his own glass. "Absinthe is a ritual, you know. It can be mesmerizing to watch the sugar dissolve and melt into the liquor. Artists and poets have been enthralled by it..."
Jim watched, lulled by Blair's satin voice, as the sugared water dripped down into the glass, turning the liquid pearly white and murky. He became aware, too, that he was staring at Blair's legs...at the way they were spread and the way his broad hands worked so competently between them. He blinked and forced his focus elsewhere.
"What do you see when you look at me?" Blair asked as he finished with his own drink and set the water and spoon aside.
"Tiny Tim with a gland condition?"
Blair smirked and glanced up at Jim while taking a sip from his glass. He licked his upper lip and tried again. "What did you see when you looked at me this morning?"
Jim furrowed his brow, frustrated with the strange path this evening was taking and his inability to make sense of it. "My...My partner. A cop. What do you want me to say here? Where are we goin' with this?"
"A cop." Blair nodded and leaned back, bracing himself with one hand. The candlelight flickered over him, highlighting curves and creating shadows. He took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes to savor it. Jim could hear him exhaling slowly.
"I'm still at loss here, Sandburg," Jim managed, trying not to stare. "The fact that you're a cop is not really big news. In fact, most of the people we know are aware of it."
Blair sat up straight and reached up to run his fingers through his hair, raking it out of his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I'm a cop. Everybody knows I'm a cop. I look like a cop, I act like a cop...I fucking think like a cop." He took another long drink from his glass.
"How much of that stuff have you had?"
"Pl-enty," Blair said, wiping his thumb across his lower lip and grinning. "You're way behind, man, drink up."
The track on the CD player changed again and the room was filled with medieval sounding music, heavy with strings and flutes. Jim sighed but took a sip from his glass. He was surprised by the spicy taste of anise and something else he couldn't put his finger on. He took some more.
"You like it?" Blair stood up and moved closer, perching on the arm of the sofa and hitching up one knee to lean on.
"It's um...it's interesting," Jim said honestly. "I'm not surprised that you like it."
That must have been the right thing to say because Blair's face lit up and he gave Jim a pleased little smile. Then he furrowed his brow and continued on as if they'd never changed topics. "I'm a good cop, too, you know. I like being a cop."
"Is that why you fucking think like one?"
"Exactly. I'm all cop." Blair finished his drink and set the glass down. He leaned forward. "But I wasn't always a cop..."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "I know that. You weren't a cop when I met you."
"Yeah...yeah, that's true," Blair said, nodding. He stood up and started to move slowly around the room, matching his steps to the music. "But you have no idea, man. I was already tailoring myself to fit the academic world. When I was a student, when I could really do what I wanted...Hell, even when I was growing up..." He stopped and turned to look at Jim. "I was really wild. I was free."
"And you're not free now? Is that what this is all about?" A sense of unease crept over Jim. He really didn't want any other partner.
"I've lost that, man. I've lost touch with so much of who I am, what I think and feel and need."
"But you just said you like being a cop," Jim protested.
"Oh, I do," Blair said, waving his hands and crossing back over to where Jim sat.
"But you don't feel free..."
"I don't want to lose touch with who I am...who I was, you know?" Blair raised his arms over his head and did a little shimmy to the music that Jim couldn't help but admire. When Blair caught him looking, he did it again adding a full turn and a sassy grin.
Jim smirked at him. "So your solution is to get drunk on battery acid and burn the loft down while dressed like a hippie?"
Blair dropped his arms and gave Jim a weary, and possibly patronizing, look. "Why not? You do it."
"I what?" Jim scoffed. "When in the hell have you ever seen me stringing myself with love beads and doing a bump and grind to lute music?"
Blair laughed out loud at that, and it took a few moments to get it all out of his system. When he could finally control his giggles, he pushed the hair out of his face and said, "I'm talking about you getting back in touch with older parts of *your*self. Don't think I haven't noticed you going through phases where you get a buzz cut and go all super-butch on me for a while. Five a.m. runs and meat three times a day and all your old PE shirts."
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but found that he couldn't. Blair was completely right. Only Jim had always thought of it as shaping back up...kicking his ass in gear when he felt he was getting soft.
"Ahhh..." Blair nodded, cocking his head at Jim and wagging his finger in an I-told-you-so kind of way. "See? You know what I'm talkin' about..." He overbalanced slightly and had to take a fast step to the side, which he turned into another new dance step and bounced away again to the latest wild track on the CD.
Jim watched him with amused fascination for a few minutes, then said, "So this is a little nostalgia trip for you?"
Blair grinned. "Yeah, you could say that. I wanted to make sure I still had it, you know?" He danced back and came to roost on the arm of the sofa again.
"Afraid you might lose it?"
"Well, yeah," Blair said looking at him wide-eyed, "You have to exercise your muscles once a while, keep these things active to a certain degree, right?"
"Sure," Jim agreed, just a touch on the patronizing side.
Blair pointed at the nearly full glass Jim still held, resting on his leg. "Drink up, man, you're way behind."
Before Jim could say a single word, Blair leaned forward pulled the glass out of his hand. At first, Jim thought Blair was going to drink it himself, but then he found Blair shifting closer and before he knew it, he had a lap full of the guy. Blair had dropped down onto his knee and turned so he could bring his other leg around, and in one smooth motion, he was straddling Jim's thighs and looking down at him with mischievous eyes.
Jim swallowed hard, trying not to react too strongly to the sudden close quarters. He was beginning to question just what form that reaction might take and didn't fully trust himself. "I think one of us drunk is enough, don't you?"
"This isn't gonna get you drunk," Blair said, slipping a hand around the back of Jim's neck. He held the rim of the glass up to Jim's mouth. "It'll just make you mellow. I'm a cop with you all day, all the time...come on and be wild with me for a little while."
Jim opened his mouth to say something to the effect that having his partner sitting in his lap on the sofa was plenty wild in his world, but Blair poured absinthe into it, so he swallowed obediently. He was glad Blair still had enough control to pour it carefully. He was concerned when Blair settled in and made himself comfortable.
He allowed Blair to pour him a few more sips of the absinthe, and tried not to think too hard about the weight and feel of Blair's warm thighs pressing down on his own. Then he turned his head and held up a hand to ward off any more. Blair chuckled and put the glass back in Jim's hand so that he could use his thumb to wipe the traces of the drink off Jim's lower lip.
As he leaned close, Jim smelled something similar to the candles and incense, but far more pungent. He wrinkled his nose. "Phew, wild man, did you go and roll in something? What the hell?"
"It's patchouli oil," Blair explained. He hopped off the sofa and started digging around in the pile of shit on the table. When he returned, he had a tiny amber bottle and a fist full of hemp jewelry. Jim groaned inwardly. Something that sounded like belly dancing music drifted through the haze of smoke.
Blair climbed back onto Jim's lap and wedged the bottle into his right hand with the jewelry so he could grab Jim's drink and steal a sip of it. He gave more to Jim too, and then returned the glass. Jim eyed the contents of Blair's hand. "Sandburg, what's all this?"
Blair grinned. "You're gonna have to dress the part, man." First, he shook the bottle and twisted off the cap, fitting his finger over the top and upending it once.
"Whoa, Chief, that shit's a little high test for me..."
"You won't die," Blair said off-handedly. He reached forward and swiped his finger down the length of Jim's throat. The scent of patchouli exploded around them and Jim tried not to cough.
"Well, I'm deeply relieved to know that you'll stop short of my deat--Jesus, Sandburg!" The pitch of Jim's voice rose sharply as Blair leaned in to press his nose to Jim's skin, sniffing the oil on him. A shiver raced through Jim's body and he grabbed Blair's shoulders. "Just how wild did you used to get?" he croaked.
"Pretty wild..." Blair smirked and pulled a longish string with three blue glass beads from his hand, looping it over Jim's head. "Vision quests, sweat lodges, road trips, encounter groups, grass parties, sances..."
Blair's voice trailed off as he became absorbed with untangling the stuff in his hand. He stuck one long knotted thing in his teeth to hold as he lifted Jim's arm up between them and gave it a little pat, indicating Jim should keep it there. Jim did, and Blair tied what remained in his hand around Jim's wrist, a woven bracelet and a string of tiny beads that he wrapped twice.
Pushing that away, and taking the knotted thing from his mouth, Blair continued, "...keggers, orgies for spiritual rites, protests, played in a band for a little while, orgies for fun, sacred pagan ceremonies...Of course, some of those were really just mead keggers in disguise."
Blair snickered and leaned forward, wrapping the knotted thing around Jim's neck. He pressed close so that he could see behind to tie it, and Jim's heart rate sped up to match the drums of the tribal music filling the room. Jim closed his eyes and his head swam from the mix of patchouli and smoke and the hint of sweat on Blair's body so close to him. Blair swore and warm anise scented breath ghosted past Jim's ear.
Jim didn't know whether to be seriously uncomfortable or get turned on, and he was on the point of saying something when Blair finished and sat up, admiring his work. "Oh, wow," he said with a big smile. "This look works better on you than I thought. We gotta do something about this shirt though."
Blair started attacking his buttons and Jim grabbed his wrists. "Wait a minute, Tarzan, what do you think you're doin'?"
"Well, the jeans are all right, but this button-down chambray is just way too square."
Jim's curiosity won out over his sense of boundaries, and he let go of Blair's wrists. This retrogression of Blair's was fascinating, and he really did want to see what would come of it, especially if in the long run it was good for Blair. On top of that, Jim was dismayed by his own reaction to the "wild" Sandburg...and he was quickly becoming interested in where that was going, too.
"So what then, Chief?" he asked as Blair shoved Jim's shirt off his shoulders.
Blair glanced up at him. "I'm strippin' you on the couch, man, what do you think comes next?"
The blunt answer was so jarring that Jim actually coughed. He'd had the very vaguest sense of something sexual or seductive going on, but apparently he was mostly clueless. "You mean, uh....you...we..."
"Those orgies weren't me and twenty-five women, you know."
Jim stared at him, dumbfounded, while Blair pulled the arms of the shirt off him and managed to drag it out from behind him, dropping it over the back of the sofa. Then Blair settled in with a pleased little grin on his face and placed his hands on Jim's chest, trailing his fingers lightly over the skin and making Jim shiver.
"Ah, Chief..." Jim had to stop and swallow hard. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?"
Blair stroked his thumbs over Jim's nipples. "Hell if I know. What makes you think I always have all the answers?"
"Well, I...uh.." Jim had to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth to block out the feel of Blair's hands as he grasped his arms and held him slightly at bay. "You're drunk, Sandburg, you're not thinking clearly."
Blair stayed calm, grinning serenely at him. "I'm not that drunk, Jim. I know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm gonna wake up in the morning and hate you for tarnishing my virtue."
"Sounds like there's not much left to tarnish..."
"Nope." Blair shrugged off Jim's hands and pressed him back into the cushions, leaning forward to pin Jim in place while he dipped his head to brush his lips over Jim's ear.
Blair's necklaces swung out to bump against Jim's chest, and Jim felt the heat of Blair's body swirl around him like the smoke from the candles. "Don't get me wrong, but...what makes you so sure I want this, anyway?"
Blair chuckled and pulled back so he could look at Jim. "You're the poster boy for Gay America. If I hadn't seen you date women with my own eyes, I would never have believed it."
Jim scowled and opened his mouth to protest, but Blair cut him off. "Besides man, even if you didn't lean that way, I'm so good I could make you want it."
Jim's eyebrows shot up. "Just for the record here, before you really get rolling and my virtue gets tarnished, I have never messed around with another guy. There is no 'leaning' going on."
"Jim," Blair cocked his head in a you're-so-cute kind of way, "you can still have leanings even if you've never acted on them. Are you telling me you've never thought about it, fantasized a little?"
No, Jim couldn't tell him that, of course, because he had thought about it from time to time, in generic terms, and he'd certainly been having a few specific thoughts about Sandburg since he'd gotten home.
Blair hooked a hand under Jim's chin and gently tipped his head until they were eye to eye. "Are you opposed?" he asked quietly.
Somehow the music had changed to fit the mood and it wove a seductive stream through Jim's mind. "No. I'm not, but..."
"Yeah...I didn't think so," Blair said smugly.
"Did you not just hear the 'but' there, Sandburg?" Jim groused. "I'm still not so sure this is a great idea. We work together."
"But nothin'," Blair dismissed. "Come on, Jim, get wild with me, then tomorrow we can eat steak for breakfast, and belch and watch football all day."
Blair laughed and Jim felt the last of his resistance slip away. "Trust me, Jim, we'll be fine. We can totally survive this."
"All right..." Jim sighed, wondering what in the hell he'd just gotten himself into. "I sure hope you know what you're doing, because I don't."
"No problem, man, all you gotta do is sit there and be hard."
Jim blinked at him. "Geez, Sandburg, don't sugarcoat it..."
Blair grinned broadly and wiggled his hips. "Judging from the rock I'm sittin' on, you've already got it covered."
Jim blushed and shut his eyes. There was nothing in the world that could have fully prepared him to be sitting on the sofa with his partner in his lap, discussing his hard-on.
Blair chuckled and leaned forward, slipping his arms around Jim's neck and nuzzling his ear. "You gonna be able to handle this, man?"
"Are we talking rare steak?"
"So rare it moos when you cut it..." Blair's voice was so smooth, it was nearly a moan.
"I'm all yours then," Jim told him. "Be gentle with me."
"I'll try, man," Blair muttered, grabbing at the fly of Jim's jeans, "but you're asking a lot, here."
Blair's hair hung forward, obscuring his face slightly as he concentrated on freeing Jim's cock. Jim could hear Blair's breath, quick and ragged. The scent of arousal mixed with the incense and the candle smoke, and when Jim sniffed, he realized it was both of them. His breath caught in his throat when Blair pushed his shorts out of the way and rested the palm of his hand against Jim's hard-on.
"Nice, Jim," he purred, staring with fascination. Slowly, and with very deliberate, almost delicate strokes, Blair traced the curves of Jim's cock with his fingertips.
The touch was so feather light, it sent shivers down Jim's spine. He took a moment to marvel at how shivers could make him feel so hot.
Then Blair grinned and glanced up at him from under his eyelashes. "I am totally gonna have fun with this..."
Damn. Jim tried to say it out loud but his throat was too dry to speak. He cleared it and said, "That's good, Chief...That's real good."
"Good for you too, pal," Blair smirked, rising up on his knees and curling the string of his pants around one finger in a tease.
"You keep saying that," Jim told him, "but I intend to judge for myself..."
"You're not gonna have to wait long," Blair said, looking down at him. He cocked his head and added, "Hey...can I kiss you?"
Jim blinked because it seemed like an odd question. "You had no problem going for my dick, what's up with this?"
Blair shrugged. "Some guys don't like it. Think it marks the difference between officially gay and just situationally gay, I guess." He let himself fall forward until they were chest to chest, winding his arms around Jim's neck and focusing on his mouth.
Jim sat very still and waited breathlessly as Blair hovered close...so close, but not quite touching. He could tell Blair was getting off on this little teasing game, and knew he couldn't just shift forward and finish it.
When Blair finally did kiss him, it was nothing short of amazing. Blair's mouth was hot and lush, and the way his body undulated was seductive, as if it just wasn't enough to experience the kiss with his lips, he had to do it with his whole being.
Jim's absinthe glass was empty and he let it roll onto the floor so that he could wrap his arms around Blair. If he was going to do this, it was about time he got physically involved. Blair moaned loudly and writhed even more. Then they were all out necking, and Jim surrendered himself to the wild wild force that was his weird roommate, trying to give as good as he got.
Finally, Blair pushed back, panting and flushed. "Holy shit, Jim...you are intense. I like it."
"You're no slouch yourself," Jim managed. He felt drunk in a good way, and his skin was buzzing from the contact with Blair's body. Blair climbed off the sofa and danced around the end of it. Jim frowned. "Where the hell are you goin'?" he asked, "I thought we were gonna..."
Blair nodded and grinned crookedly. "Oh we're gonna, all right. I'm just running to my room to get a bottle of Astroglide."
"Lube, Jim, you know...the key to getting a second date."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I know what lube is, I just didn't realize that you'd need something approved by NASA. I'm surprised you're not going to use the patchouli oil for this, too."
Blair shuddered visibly and made a face. "No way, man, ouch!" He came back and leered at Jim over the sofa, glancing meaningfully down at Jim's groin. "Besides...I don't have anywhere near enough."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Move it, Sandburg."
Blair darted out of the room and was back in a flash, climbing over the arm and wriggling out of his pants at the same time. It was about as graceful as his dancing, but filled with the same wild abandon. Then Blair was free and naked and crawling into Jim's lap. Jim thought back to lunch and tried to imagine having any clue at all where the evening was going to lead.
Jim's attention was yanked back to the present by the cold, slick touch of Blair's hand on his cock. He inhaled sharply and glared down at his lap.
"Sorry, man," Blair said, "I tried to warm it up a little...but I am way too anxious to wait. I guarantee that I'll be making it up to you."
"Yeah, ok," Jim said breathlessly, letting Blair pull him a little farther down on the sofa so that his head was resting on the back of the cushions and his lap was wide open, giving Blair plenty of room to move when he climbed on. His jeans were still bunched around his thighs, but he didn't think this was the right time to quibble.
The music was slow and sultry as Blair straddled Jim's hips and reached down to get him into just the right position. Blair sat back, easing onto the head of Jim's cock and hovered there, breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut. It seemed to Jim that he was caught in a moment of indecision and he asked, "Isn't this hurting you?"
Blair shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. "That's why I'm on top. So I have all the control." His voice was low and steady, all traces of teasing or banter gone. "I won't go any faster than I'm ready for. All you have to do is sit there and let me, and everything will be juuust fine..."
As he spoke, he pushed down a little more, taking Jim in minute increments. Jim broke out in a sweat across his chest, and wondered how in the hell he was supposed to sit still when his cock was suddenly being gripped by tight heat and it felt so fucking good. His eyes were glued to Blair's face, and he could not believe they were doing this.
Blair's expression was a study in concentration and he was biting his lip, making barely audible little groans and cries. Jim rested his hands loosely on Blair's waist, stroking his torso soothingly. Blair smiled faintly and hummed.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, Blair was all the way down. Jim's cock was completely buried inside him, and they were both panting heavily. Blair braced his hands on Jim's shoulders and leaned forward gingerly to kiss him. He was shaking.
"Jesus, Blair..." Jim ground out, nearly overwhelmed by it all.
"Oh yeah." Blair's voice was barely more than a whisper. "It gets better too, just wait."
They stayed that way, just kissing for a few minutes, and Jim could feel Blair's body starting to relax, adjusting to the invasion. He wondered what it felt like. At the same time, his own body was screaming at him to thrust, to fuck, to do something, and the effort of resisting that urge was making him tremble.
"That's good," Blair whispered, "That's so, so good." He licked a hot path up the side of Jim's neck and breathed against his ear. "The next track on the CD, man...it's perfect for this. Just hang on a few more seconds."
Jim moaned and wrapped one arm around Blair's body, tangling his free hand in that thick hair and pulling Blair into a fevered kiss, needing somewhere to direct his desperate desire for more. The patchouli became even more intense on their heated skin, and Jim breathed deep, memorizing the scent, because he knew he'd be associating it with Blair and sex for the rest of his life.
Thankfully, the room finally fell silent for a moment and then the next song started up. More slow, dark music like before, with a rhythmic complexity that was hypnotic. Jim almost cried out with relief when Blair sat up and shifted his weight a little. He grasped Blair's thighs and gave a tiny shove with his cock.
Blair moaned and smiled. "Slow, Jim...match the music. Nice and slow." He started to rock his hips gently, barely moving, but creating sensations that nearly drove Jim wild. "Come on, move with me..." Blair murmured, guiding Jim's body with his hands.
"God, Blair," Jim moaned, fighting to control his body's urges. Sweat gleamed on them both, reflecting the candlelight.
"Yeah," Blair panted, "yeah, that's good. That's perfect. Keep going just like that..."
Jim kept his focus by running his hands over Blair's skin, and Blair clung to his shoulders, baring some of his weight on his arms to keep from hurting himself. He tried to kiss Jim, but they were both breathing too hard, so he settled for pressing his forehead to Jim's temple.
"Oh fuck," Jim groaned as it became too much and the situation threatened to undo him. His whole body screamed for release and he could feel it building inside. "I'm think I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."
"No, no, not yet, Jim," Blair gasped, pressing his fingers over Jim's lips as if stopping the words would stop the action. "You've gotta wait until the end of the song. You have to ride the whole thing out."
"Are you serious?" Jim panted. "There's no way."
"Yeah. Yes there is, just take deep breaths...focus on my breathing and slow yours down, nice and deep."
Jim tried to follow Blair's instructions, willing his body to calm down. "Easy for you to say, Chief, you're not about to lose it."
"Says who?" Blair grinned. "I am right on the edge, man. You are fucking amazing. I don't know why in the hell we didn't start doing this sooner."
The effort of talking left them breathless, and they lapsed into silence again, moving steadily with the music, bodies taut with restrained passion.
When Jim was certain he couldn't take another second more, the music picked up in tempo and the rhythm changed just slightly...and Blair was doing the most amazing things on his lap as he followed the change of the music. Blair was writhing against him and Jim pulled him close, wanting more of that.
"Now?" Jim groaned, "Is this the end of the song? Do we get to come now?"
"Oh yeah," Blair mouthed, jerking his hips faster and faster as the pace of the music increased to a wild tempo. "Fuck yeah," he cried out as he came hard, clutching Jim's shoulders with white knuckled hands and losing control of his movements.
Jim growled with relief as he let go and allowed Blair's crazed fucking to wrench the climax out of him. He held Blair's hips in a powerful grip, not willing to risk losing that incredible heat until he was good and ready. It was long and intense and the drums of the music pounded with his pulse in his ears, drowning out everything else but the weight of Blair's body on him.
When his head cleared and his muscles relaxed, Jim moaned slowly and opened his eyes. Blair was slumped limp against him, panting raggedly. Jim reached up to rub his back, and they sat like that for nearly the entire next song before either one of them ventured to move or speak.
"Holy fuck, Jim..." Blair mumbled. "I think you killed me."
"Hey, all I did was sit here and be hard, and take deep breaths, and do what you told me. If you're dead, it's your own damn fault."
"Yeah...but what a way to go..."
"No shit," Jim agreed. "I've gotta admit, you were right...You are that good, and it was totally worth my while. I like you when you're wild and free."
"Told you so..." Blair said smugly.
"You had help here, you know."
Blair smiled broadly. "Yeah, good help."
Another few tracks played while they sat there in a post sex haze, neither one of them feeling compelled to move in any way. It was nice, and it gave Jim some time to adjust to the fact that he'd just screwed a guy, and his roommate...and his partner. At least one of those things was going to get him in trouble, he just knew it.
He was distracted from these thoughts by the sound of soft snoring coming from somewhere just under his chin. He shook Blair gently. Nothing happened. He shook a little harder, but that only changed the pitch of the snoring.
"Blair," he said, shaking some more, "Sandburg, come on, wake up...my legs are going to sleep."
Blair mumbled and groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I can't feel my legs, man, check and see if they're still there."
Jim pushed Blair to the side, watching him fall limply onto the cushions. He stood up and fastened his jeans. "Come on, Chief, bedtime. We've both had a long day. Time to sleep it off."
Blair gurgled something and waved a hand at Jim. It was clear that the alcohol had finally taken its toll on him. Jim grabbed Blair's arm and pulled him into a sitting position, so he could get a shoulder under him and hoist him off the sofa.
"Putting you to bed."
Jim straightened up and shifted Blair's limp form into a better position for carrying. "Hey," Blair mumbled drowsily. "You wanna come sleep in my bed?"
"No," Jim told him, thinking of the state of Blair's room. "You want to come sleep in my bed?"
"Ok," Blair smiled. "Then we can talk about what kind of steaks to get."
"Yup. And what kind of beer." Jim headed up the stairs with his cargo and dumped him into the large bed. Blair was snoring again before Jim reached the top of the stairs to go back down. As he was blowing out the candles, Jim had a feeling that things were going to be ok. Ok in a way that he hadn't felt in quite a while.
Past Life Regression by SassyInkPen: email@example.com
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