Chapter Eleven

"What's that?" The earsplitting racket caused Jim to jerk awake.

"'sthe phone...get it...can't..." Blair's voice was muffled by the pillow.

Right. Phone. He got out of bed. The apartment was flooded with early afternoon light. He had to squint to find the beast.

"Uhhh...Sandburg residence."

"Dr. Ellison? It's Simon Banks."

"After all we've been through together, Simon, you might as well call me 'Jim.'"

Simon chuckled. "Suits me. Just wanted to tell you that Bob copped a plea. He'll be away for a good long time anyway. So...you don't have to come in, and no one has to know you drove that car. Work for you?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"How's Sandburg?"

Jim looked towards the bed. All he saw was curls on top of a blanket cocoon. "Fast asleep. Which I was."

"Sorry." He didn't sound apologetic. "Look, let me know how he gets on, and if you'll need someone to check up on him."

"I'll be around, but...thanks again."

"Not a problem. He's a tough little guy, but tough doesn't always help. Okay....I'll talk to you again."

"Bye, Simon."

There was no use going back to sleep. He was amazed that he'd slept...he checked the clock over the stove...four hours as it was, and without a bit of weed. Somehow, all the *things* - the feelings, the sounds, the light - hadn't kept him awake while he had Blair in his arms. Maybe it would work again.

Blair had stolen all the blankets, but Jim wasn't cold. He lay down beside him and wrapped himself around him. And found himself looking at a pair of open eyes. "Who was that?"

"Simon. Simon Banks. I thought you were asleep."

"Was. Longest I've slept in...I can't remember." He stretched. Jim could feel the heavy cast next to the nothingness. "Oh, that feels good." He squirmed out of his cocoon and hugged Jim. "Yeah. It's been too long since I've done this."

Jim smiled at him. "It does feel good. *You* feel good." He let his hand drift over Blair's face, touching his lips, stroking the heavy stubble on his chin, tracing the shape of his eyebrows, and following the long curls to his ears. "Why two earrings on one ear?"

Blair chuckled. "It was on leave. It was a few weeks before, well. Bunch of us from my OCS class, those that were still alive. We'd gotten wasted on stuff I'd rather not think about now - I put too much up my nose those days. Henry had these earrings he was going to give his girl back home. But then...someone had the bright idea of piercing my ear. Except, I don't really have earlobes...see? Attached. And they had the needle, which they soaked in whiskey, but they got it too high, so they tried again. And Henry put both earrings in. Said I was prettier than his girl anyway. God. I soaked my ear in alcohol for a week. Tied a scarf over it." Blair grinned, then sobered. "Henry died two weeks later. Damn." He buried his head in Jim's shoulder.

"He was a good friend?" Jim fought hard to control his jealousy.

Blair's voice was muffled. "I hated him. He was a bully and a rotten commander, and he got fragged by his men. But...I wouldn't let them take those earrings off even in the hospital. It's a little mutilation next to my big one..." He clung to Jim, who stroked the ear in question.

"It's okay. It fits you...because you aren't like anyone else." Blair made a sound. "No, I don't mean that. It's...something else about you. Look at me, beautiful."

"I said..." Blair's eyes blazed.

"I don't care. You *are*. You're very beautiful." He took a deep breath, and leaned in to kiss Blair again. His lips were soft, sensuous and they responded passionately, just like before the gunshot, which felt like it had happened days earlier.

And again, they ground their bodies together. Jim felt Blair's arousal next to his, separated by the layers of sheet and blanket and underwear, and suddenly, it was not enough. "I want to see you, Blair. I want to see all of you."

"Are...are you sure? Last time..."

"Yeah. I'm not going to live my life afraid of...these damn senses. I want to *use* them. I want to use them on you."

Blair nodded. "But...you'll see." Jim let go of him, and he unrolled himself from the rest of the covers. He took a deep breath and gave a shaky smile. "Here goes." He pulled himself upright and took off his tank top. Jim licked his lips. There were those nipples again, in their nests of swirling hair. "You okay?"

Jim nodded, unable to breath but still together. "Go on."

"Okay." Blair closed his eyes as if screwing up his courage, and wriggled out of his boxers, tossing them and his t-shirt over the side. He lay back on his pillows, and closed his eyes.

Jim, lying beside him, stared. He'd seen pictures of naked men - even had a couple of magazines hidden in his luggage, and he'd caught glimpses in locker room showers over the years, but never before did he give himself license to *look*.

He started at the beauty of Blair's face - the strong lines and sensuous features - before letting his eyes trail down the sturdy neck. His shoulders were heavy and broad from moving a wheelchair and using the crutches he saw propped against one wall, his chest muscled beneath the layer of fur. He wanted to taste those nipples so badly. He could feel himself getting lost in them again, so he quickly moved on, past a stomach that was not quite flat but far from fat to Blair's hips and what lay between them. He...let that go to look lower. This part hurt. One leg ended above the knee in a twisted scar, shiny with callus. The other one was complete, but covered in plaster from below the knee down. That was his fault.

He looked up again. Blair's eyes were open now, and he squirmed under Jim's gaze. Finally, he let himself gaze at the place between Blair's thighs. The hair was thicker there, surrounding Blair's penis, which was responding to him, echoing his own need, and also the heavy sacs beneath it. It was long and dark with the blood filling it. Jim felt his mouth go dry at the sight.

How long had he wanted this, waited for this? Forever.

"You're making me feel...whole. Attractive."

"You are.

Blair's eyes were wet, but he smiled, too. "Do you want to touch me?"

"May I?"

"Please."

It was harder than turning the ignition key that morning, but he made himself...no, *allowed* himself to touch it. It was silky smooth and hot, and heavy in his hand, and it felt both similar to and different than his own. He began to stroke it, first gently and then harder. Blair moaned.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, no...go on. Feels good. Take off your shorts and...and I'll show you."

"Okay." He tossed his underwear next to Blair's and lay back down again. Blair touched him...and everything turned dull and far away. He tried to pull away. Then it all came back, blinding and deafening, and Blair's gentle hand was painful and he gasped and pulled away.

"Jim...Jim...Jim...take it easy."

"Can't...too much....too much input." And then it was all dull again. "It's gone. Oh, God. I'll never...never...."

"You *will*. We'll just take it slow. We have time."

"Do we?"

"Forever if you need it." Blair looked at him, and Jim could see the truth shining in his eyes. "But it won't take forever. I promise."

"You and your promises...." Jim lay back down and waited for the world to gain color again.

"Yeah." Blair began to stroke Jim's face softly, letting him get used to the touch. "Just let it happen. Let it flow. You want some weed? Would that help?"

"No...it puts me out. I don't want that now. Just...keep doing that."

"Okay." Blair turned his attention to Jim's body, touching lightly at first, and then becoming firm, teasing his nipples but moving off before Jim could focus too tightly. Jim found himself relaxing, enjoying it, regaining the arousal he'd lost.

Then, Blair began kissing him - on his face, his chest, his stomach - while his hands moved ever more intimately until they were grasping him once again. This time, everything stayed the way it was supposed to. He fought not to lose himself in Blair's touch.

Blair must have sensed this, because he began to talk...nothing real, just reassurances that he was doing fine, that he was beautiful, that everything was fine...but it was enough to keep him part of the world.

Then Blair engulfed him in that mouth, and Jim was ready to faint from the sheer sensation. He fought to keep control of who and where he was, to not lose himself. As it was, he exploded in mere moments, falling back on the bed in mingled disappointment and relief.

"My God. I actually...in your mouth...I'm sorry. I was too fast."

"What for? Next time...it won't be so new. This time was fine...wasn't it?"

"This time was miraculous. I...I think I could love you, Blair."

"Yeah. I think...I think I could love you, too. I think I want to. I think, maybe, I do."

Jim wanted to shout, to cry, to...he reached for Blair again, taking his length in his hand. "I know how to do this. May I?"

"Yes...oh...yes..."

Jim grinned a little. This wasn't like masturbation, but it was close enough. He knew what felt good - and he discovered that by listening to Blair's heartbeat, he could figure out what felt best to him, and used that knowledge.

He still felt awkward and amazed that he was finally handling another man, giving that other man pleasure, but that only made it better when Blair came to completion all over his hands. And that was fine, and it was fine that Blair laughed afterwards when Jim licked him clean, or they tasted themselves in each other's mouths. It was even finer that when Blair laughed, he sounded like dark, bittersweet chocolate.

Later, Jim rose to get a wash cloth and Blair followed in his wheelchair and they wrapped Blair's cast in the plastic cover the doctors gave him and took showers. Jim insisted on washing Blair's hair for him, and they got silly, tossing lather around. It had been a long time since Jim had allowed himself to do that. He wasn't used to hearing his own laughter, but Blair's was so infectious he had to join in.

Simon showed up around dinnertime with a couple of pizzas and a six pack of beer. Maybe it was just that he was a good cop, maybe it was that he'd also served in 'Nam and knew that sometimes men needed each other, maybe it was that they hadn't made the bed, but Jim could see that Simon had figured things out. And that was fine, too, because he didn't seem to care, and that was more of a revelation than even Blair's mouth on him.

Instead, Simon took them to Jim's hotel room and helped them to pack and bring Jim's things back to the Loft, and then watched some television with them before going home to his wife and baby son.

And that night, Jim slept again in Blair's arms and knew he'd sleep nowhere else.

Copyright 2000 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates

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