elmyraemilie (elmyraemilie) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-05-23 21:43:00 |
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Current mood: | tired |
FIC: The Sentinel, Jim/Blair, PG-13
Title: Juicy
Author: elmyraemilie
Fandom/pairing: The Sentinel, Jim/Blair
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I make no money from the writing and posting of this story.
Warnings: none
Summary: Blair loves fruit. Jim loves Blair.
Author's Notes: Posted to the 852 Prospect archive in April 2005. I've read over it; I'm happy to say I've gotten better in the past two years. A very short story, posted as a response to the call for oldies but goodies.
The door clicked shut gently behind him, but the paper bags in his arms crackled like thunder in the quiet loft. After a morning of cleaning and chores, he'd left Jim stretched out on the couch, half watching a John Wayne movie, half dozing. Blair didn't want to wake his lover if the doze had developed into a full-scale nap.
It had been a crazy week. They were both mighty glad to leave the station behind for a couple peaceful days of weekend. Jim felt particularly sleep-deprived; the woman downstairs had her baby last Tuesday, and though every night Blair slept on, oblivious, Jim knew the child's nighttime feeding schedule down to the minute. Even the white noise generator couldn't completely camouflage that healthy, hearty cry.
Jim's subconscious recognized the Guide; that explained why the man didn't stir as Blair eased the bags onto the counter and started unloading his bounty. Maybe he'd gone a little overboard, but every stand at the farmers' market offered something tempting, something he couldn't resist. Fresh asparagus, tiny green buds plump at the tips of slim stalks; Silver Queen corn on the cob with its mane of tangled brown silk; tomatoes so succulent and full that their skin was taut over the luscious flesh beneath. He stole a peek over the back of the couch. Jim slumbered unperturbed.
Filling the sink with a slow stream of cold water, he washed his treasures as silently as he could. He spread the vegetables on a terrycloth towel to dry; the fruit he piled in a colander. It looked like some still life from the Renaissance with the grapes draping down the sides and the pears and nectarines perched in the middle. Blair put it in the center of the table and stood back to admire the effect before he ruined it by grabbing one perfect, baseball-sized nectarine. He took a paper towel from the kitchen and sprawled out the other couch to watch the tail end of the movie.
Jim floated gradually to consciousness with his Guide's heartbeat in his ears. He tracked Blair's movements from the door into the kitchen. His nose told him there'd been a visit to the farmers' market; the musty brown paper bags all the stands used gave it away as much as the sharp, sweet tang of the produce. He heard Blair tiptoe over to the couch, so he kept his eyes closed and his breathing regular. It was pleasant to lie here and let his hearing and his smell tell him the story of Blair's afternoon. Drifting just beneath full wakefulness, Jim reveled in the peace of his home.
The creak of the couch springs and the shift of Blairscent told him his partner had finished putting things away. Overlaid on the beloved, familiar, soothing scent of his Guide was the aroma of a nectarine. It smelled luscious--sun-warm and savory sweet, an indefinable tree-ness to it. He nudged up the dial on scent just a little to better appreciate the bouquet.
As he dialed up scent, Blair took a big bite of the fruit. Jim's mind was flooded with Nectarine, just like that, capital N--the scent was so strong he could taste it. His mouth watered, and he began to consider really waking up. A moist rustle tickled his hearing; Blair's tongue was trying to contain the juice as it threatened to dribble down his chin. Jim pictured his partner's face, eyes closed, relishing the fresh, ripe fruit. The next slurpy crunch provided Jim with the mental image of Blair pulling a bite of golden-yellow pulp away from the pit, lips wet and sweet with nectar.
Perhaps he wasn't completely awake yet, but parts of him were well on the way to full activity. The succulent sound of the next mouthful was followed by what had to be a little moan of pleasure. Jim's eyes drifted open a tiny bit; he peered through his lashes just in time to see Blair's tongue trace a decadent path along the bitten edge of the fruit. Jim watched him shift his treat into his other hand to lick the juice from his fingers, lapping at the crevices between them and sucking on the tips.
Jim longed to reach down and shift his filling cock. When Blair took another bite of nectarine and leaned his head back against the couch, revealing the drop of juice that had escaped his lips as it trickled down his neck, it was more than he could stand. He shifted up onto his elbows and watched as a slow, sexy smile crossed his lover's face.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hey yourself." Jim stretched and sighed with pleasure as he shifted his hard cock in his boxers. "Must be some nectarine."
"Oh, man, these are great. Right up there with sex. Want one?"
"Well, to be honest, I think I'd rather share that one with you."
"I dunno. It's pretty good. You might have to come and get it." Blue, blue eyes twinkled over the brilliant yellow flesh of the fruit.
"How about this? I'll come over there. . ." Jim slid off his couch to sit next to his lover. ". . .and I'll feed you the rest of that nectarine." He gently lifted the sticky fruit and held it to Blair's lips. With a sideways glance at Jim, he took a bite. Smiling at the wonderful flavor, he started to wipe his mouth, but Jim stopped him.
"Oh, no, Chief. You get to eat the nectarine, and I get to lick your lips." Licking. "And your fingers." More licking. "And anyplace else you happen to get juicy."
Blair took a big bite of nectarine. Its sweet liquid dripped down his chin. Tilting his head back, he smiled at Jim as he chewed. "You have yourself a deal."