breakfast of champions
by Pares

There's a long, wide line of sunlight striping the floor under the skylights. It reminds me of a train, sort of. Like when an Amtrak passenger job passes you by, and the sunlight bounces off of the silver siding right into your eyes, and it's a big rushing, glaring blur with deep shadows in between the cars.

The window frames break the light up like that.

"You see that, Jim?"

"See what, Blair?" He's playing with my hair, petting it, winding it around his fingers. I'm sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the TV and he's half-lying on the couch.

We're sharing a bottle of beer, which he happens to be holding right now, and every now and again, he'll tug a curl just a little too hard.

He doesn't want me to fall asleep.

"The way the sun comes through the skylight. Doesn't it look like a train to you?"

"Sure, Chief." He's humoring me.

Thanks to the Beer for Breakfast, I'm a little fuzzy, so I don't mind.

In fact, I am well and truly fucked, in the best sense of the word, and I can hardly hold my head up.

It's about 10 AM now, and we've been up *all* night.

Up. All night.

I'm about ready for a nap.

Jim's still a little wound up.

He comes about once for every three times I cross the finish line.

"You don't see it, do you, Jim?"

"Blair, all I see is the back of your head," he replies, and he nudges me with his nose so my head falls forward. He pushes my hair to one side and starts kissing the tender skin behind my ear.

*wow*

oh, that's nice. nice. mmm hmmm.

He stretches out an arm and curls it around my chest, tugging me up to my knees. He's sitting up now, propping me between the V of his thighs.

"Come up here, why don't you, Sandburg..."

I'm putty in his hands, man.

He scoots back and arranges me on the couch. You wouldn't think so, but our couch is wide enough to spoon on, especially if you're *really* friendly.

And Jim's a hell of a friendly guy, once you get to know him.

He's easing my boxers down, and I feel I should make at least a *token* protest, because, seriously, I am *tired*, okay? Punchy, even.

"Jim, this is nice and all, but I have *got* to get some shut eye..."

My arms feel heavy, my eyelids, they're stuck half way, like a garage door on the fritz. It's a *nice* warm cozy drowse, though, and mmmm, taking a nap in the sun would only be *almost* as nice as lying here in Jim's arms, with his knee between my thighs, and his breath in my hair.

***

Sandburg's in La La Land.

I tug on his earrings with my teeth.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Chief. I want to try something."

"Go right ahead," he mumbles. "My body is your body. Go crazy. Just let me get a little," and he nearly unhinges his own jaw yawning, "get a little... rest..." he sighs, and snuggles down, closing his hand over mine where I'm hugging him across the chest.

I lower my head and close my teeth on his shoulder, tense my jaw.

"Owwwwww," he complains. I smile against his skin, kiss the spot I just chewed on, ruck his T-shirt up so I can palm his nipples.

"Mmmmm. Feels niccccce..."

No doubt about it. Blair is well and truly out of it.

I slip his boxers down his hips, and he doesn't say anything. I know he's still awake, and he tenses a little, interested despite the all-nighter we pulled.

Who knew I'd find out that sleep deprivation was an aphrodisiac? Maybe it's some kind of Sentinel thing. Whether it is or not, I love it when Blair is like this. When his head his heavy and his shoulder's are relaxed, when he looks like he's gonna drip right out of my arms like candle wax...

I jerk my own boxers down my hips and prop his thigh up with my knee.

I slide a finger into him, gently, but he's still relaxed from last time, which was maybe an hour ago, and plenty warm and slick for what I have in mind.

***

jiiiiiiiiiim

O, man, he's got his finger on the inside. Looks like the lights just came on in the ol' House of the Rising Sun.

Vroom *vroom*. Gentlemen, you may start your engines....

He sneaks right in, and moves around like he owns the place.

I think he's using Tantric Sentinel Sex Tricks or something. They must have a special handbook somewhere-- *god*. God, god, when he does that it just makes me *shimmy* all over.... Man, Jim.

"Jim," and my voice is still husky from the forty-five second nap I took about half an hour ago, and Jim rotates his wrist and I arch forward and moan so softly *I* don't even hear it.

But Jim does.

"I told you you'd want to be awake for this."

Sure Jim. Awake. Not a problem. I'd open my eyes, turn my head, but it's like I'm drugged... I can only respond to Pure Sex. Sorry, Jim, just the way I'm --

"Ahhhhhhh.... Jim..."

Jim skips directly to what feels like three fingers, and I'm hitching my hips now, rocking a little, not very much, I admit it, but I don't have a whole lot of get up and go right now. It's enough that my previously sleepyhead dick has enough go to get *up*.

I'm hoping we won't need a condom for this, because I really, *really* don't want Jim to get up right now, and I'm sure as hell not going anywhere.

Jim tugs the arm I've been resting on out from underneath me, and I hear him tear the packet and spit the wrapper out. Thank you, Jim, for Being Prepared.

Meanwhile, the fingers inside me are twisting and rubbing and *ohhhhhh* oh yeah... there, Jim, so good...

Well, it's not the Gettysburg Address, but I don't think Jim is expecting a lot of witty urbanity just now.

"Maybe... maybe now you could... could you touch me now...? Jim?"

But he ignores my pleading, and my dripping cock, and concentrates on working his way inside me with little digging rolls of his hips.

"N-n-niiiice, nice, very nice.... but I really think I'm gonna need a little more stimulation here..." And I reach for my neglected dick and Jim pries his hand off my hip and tucks my hands under my ribs.

When I move to reclaim them, Jim shushes me and starts licking the back of my neck.

God, my spine turns to taffy when he does that.

I moan a little, just for effect mind you, I'm not whining here, hey, I'll take whatever he gives me, and start to rock back against him, but he holds my hips still, and just slips into me, real slooooow.

***

He's lolling around like a ragdoll, and I'm careful to keep it rock steady and slow. Slower than old ladies in rocking chairs. Slower than the long hush of passing cars. Slower than the minute hand on the kitchen clock.

I want to take my goddamned time for a change.

We've become regular connoisseurs of The Quickie.

I've done him ten minutes before leaving for work, ten minutes before he leaves for work, in the ten minutes it takes the spaghetti to be al dente when it's his turn to cook.

They're fun, I'm not saying they're not, but when the weekend rolls around, I want to *feel* him.

I love the skin at the back of his neck, and the tough soles of his feet, and the soft, sweaty creases of his knees. I like the callus on his index finger from the way he holds his pen; I can feel it when he strokes me, when he cups my face, when he runs his hands through what's left of my hair.

I like the way his skin is iridescent at the bend of his elbows, how it's firm and pliant and easy to touch.

The small of his back is nearly hairless, but as you follow the crease of his ass, the finest soft fur shadows the skin there.

He practically slips into a coma if you lick the skin behind his ears, and he holds me so hard when he comes he's left bruises.

Hours of fun to be had in Blair Land.

And I want every minute I can get.

***

I'm fading in and out-- I'm close to falling asleep, actually, but I don't think Jim would appreciate that, so I try to concentrate on the slip and slide, the old in and out, and then he lifts my leg up and kind of tickles the crease of my leg where it's all sweaty, and then his fingers slip down between my legs and he starts stroking the soft skin between my balls and the back door he's filling *so* nicely and

--And my eyes fly open and I *YELL*, I am braying like a *mule*, and so damned loud I worry I'll strain something.

I'm coming so hard Jim has to strap his arms around me to keep me from rolling off the couch.

I only have one good spurt in me, I mean we've been at this for a while, right? And while I'm still twitching, a gale force ha Ha HA just belts out of me like I'm being turned inside out with belly laughs.

"Jim, Jim, that was... o my god!" And I'm giggling like a lunatic, panting and working for every breath I can sneak in between chuckles.

I'm still shuddering and giggly when he pulls out, and I wriggle around to face him and brace my hands on his shoulders, laughing so hard I'll probably be sore later.

In fact, I have another fit, and this time I'm a little worried that my spleen might come unmoored or something, and I'm gripping Jim's shoulder's convulsively.

"What did you *do* to me Jim?" But Jim starts rubbing my belly very lightly, and I calm down a little, slowly relaxing.

Gradually, I'm rolling to a halt, and quieting in the circle of Jim's arms. He's nuzzling me and licking my hairline.

"God, Jim, I *love* you..." and he just wraps me *up* and whispers:

"Good."

***

I've never seen anyone come laughing before. In fact, I don't think I've ever even heard of it happening. But it doesn't really surprise me. Somehow, Blair laughing during sex seems completely in character for him.

That I get to be the one who can do it to him... for him... well, it pastes a big smug grin on my face, I'll tell you that.

He's mashed his face against my throat, and his breath is warm and humid against my skin.

I finally wore him out, I think.

*That* is a rare occurrence.

It's another first for me. I don't think I've ever fucked someone unconscious before.

If I'm lucky, I'll get to do it again soon.

Blair's heart rate eases into Dozing Anthropologist, and I shrug him a little closer, rest my chin on the jumbled curls on the top of his head.

I listen to him breathe for a while... sometimes I can hear each of his alveoli expand and fill with breath, but today, I can only hear his heartbeat. My senses usually dull a little for a while after I come.

I haven't told Blair that, but it occurs to me that I should.

I should probably keep him in the know with what goes on with my Sentinel abilities, and now that we're sleeping together, I feel a little bit more guilty about holding things back.

And hey, the tests he'll have to run won't be the kind I'll mind taking.

The thought makes me smile, and I tuck Blair a little closer.

"Good night, professor."

And I sleep.

END