Sexual Healing - Roxanne

"Oh god..."

Jim rolled over and grabbed another Kleenex from the bedside table just as another coughing spell started and stuff he really didn't want to think about started coming out of his body.

Pneumonia! Fucking, rotten, pneumonia! I don't get pneumonia! he thought sourly as his chest spasmed from the violent hacking. I never get sick. Well, there was that cold four years ago, but pneumonia? How does that happen? Especially in the middle of summer? Shit!

He'd had no idea that pneumonia hurt like this. His chest felt like someone was clawing at his ribs and every time he coughed bitter phlegm rose up in his throat and gagged him. One minute he was burning up and the next he was cold. His temperature had peaked at 101 degrees yesterday, but today it was close to normal.

Jim knew he was a lousy patient. He'd never been good at being sick. Colds were the worst. As a kid, he'd always ended up with strep throat and would have to stay home from school for a week at a time. Even though he was sick, he'd get bored and whiny and end up getting on everyone's nerves. Even the usually patient Sally would eventually tell him what a big baby he was and that if he didn't quit whining she'd give him something to whine about.

"Here's your medicine, Jim."

Jim looked up at his roommate through the tissue he'd just destroyed. Blair stood there at his bedside, ready for work in his navy Dockers and maroon shirt. A bit of white t-shirt showed at the open neck and a few dark chest hairs peeked out from behind that. He looked like any other 30-something professional on Casual Day. In one hand he held a tall glass of water. In the other, two pills lay side by side in his open palm.

"What the hell are those?" Jim wheezed, then lunged for another Kleenex.

"The yellow and white one's an antibiotic and the other's for pain. It's pretty mild, but with your senses..."

He let his voice drift off...the sentence didn't need finishing. They both knew now what kind of havoc medication could play with his senses. Memories of his last cold still haunted him and he couldn't even think about getting on a train anymore without shivers running up and down his spine.

Blair just stood there, patient as ever, holding out the pills. He didn't even try to argue with Jim anymore. He'd just stand and give Jim that look like 'you know you're going to end up doing what I want anyway, so why don't you just skip the bullshit and do it?' Jim thought about arguing just for old time's sake, but he really didn't feel good enough and he'd probably just start coughing anyhow.

"Yeah, yeah," Jim finally growled as he sat up and reached for the water. It really pissed him off that his hand was shaking so much that some of the water slopped out the top before Blair grabbed it back.

"Here, let me," he said in the same good-natured tone he always used anymore as he held the glass to Jim's lips.

Jim took a sip, then Blair's other hand was right there with the pills. He tried a hateful glare which Blair cheerfully ignored, so he opened up obediently and Blair popped the pills in, then returned the glass to his mouth.

"Got 'em?"

Jim nodded then fell back onto the bed in a sweaty heap. He felt like shit and he wanted to take it out on somebody, but Blair was being nice and his chest hurt so damn bad and he'd probably end up hacking up blood and then Blair would make him go to the hospital, so he didn't say anything more. He just let his eyes drift shut as Blair laid a hand on his forehead, checking for fever. Blair's hand felt so nice and cool against his fevered skin.

"You're still a little warm," he concluded, then patted Jim on the cheek and turned to leave.

"I'll probably be at the station all day. Call me if you need anything."

"Sure," Jim groaned, afraid that too many words would start the coughing all over again.

After that, he half listened to Blair getting ready to leave. It was soothing in a peculiar sort of way. At least it was familiar...something he still did after all the changes in his life had made him a new man. Sandburg muttered under his breath more than anyone Jim had ever met and his morning routine always contained a rundown of essentials before heading to the station.

"Gun, badge, notebook, pen, keys...shit. Where are those keys? Oh yeah. Bye Jim!"

He heard the soft clink of metal, then the snick of the lock as Blair left him alone in his misery. Jim laid for a while and mused over the changes in Blair since he'd become a detective. Aside from the long periods of unnatural silence and the fact that he smelled like gun oil instead of book dust, there was the fact that he dressed like a grown-up now. For some reason, Jim hated that more than anything else.

He wondered if Blair had always had the ability to adapt to changes in his life so easily or if maybe he'd just finally matured into this quiet, Docker-wearing yuppie. It didn't seem likely that someone could just become an adult overnight...suddenly really wanting to spend his evenings reading the latest Tom Clancy novel or watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire instead of dogging every single woman in the police force or getting really excited and bouncy over the latest issue of Anthropology Today.

Thinking about Blair too much made his head hurt and while the spasms in his chest had quieted down, it still ached with a strange dull pain that seemed to deepen with each breath. But the medicine started kicking in and it didn't take long for Jim to drift into an uneasy sleep.

"Oh fuck! Not the blue dream again," Jim groaned as he opened his eyes in the indigo jungle of his imagination. It wasn't enough that the pneumonia made him feel like someone was tearing his ribs apart from the inside out, now he had to suffer through one more of these damned Sentinel visions. They never made sense and they usually led to something really nasty happening.

True to form, Jim found himself in the midst of the oddest color jungle he'd ever seen. It sure looked like a jungle with lots of palm fronds and ferns and vines and trees and jungle stuff like that. Felt like one, too. The heat was stifling and the humidity immediately began to sap his strength. The sounds were your usual, run of the mill jungle sounds ... birds cawing, insects buzzing, a monkey chattering somewhere, a waterfall roaring in the distance.

He looked around, but there didn't seem to be a panther or any of the Chopec lurking around, but he wouldn't count them out just yet. Time to get his bearings. He should probably move, but he didn't have a clue which direction he should travel in. Maybe he'd head towards that waterfall. It sounded nice and at least it would be cooler there.

Looking down, Jim noticed that he was wearing ripped fatigues, a sleeveless t-shirt and army boots. He wondered briefly if his subconscious had supplied any interesting body paint, but there was no way to tell without a mirror. He did notice that there was no bow and arrows or any other weapons in his hands or anywhere in sight.

He took off running toward the sound of water. The falls he found were about 20 feet tall and flowed into a large blue pond. The mist from the rushing water was cool and refreshing and he knelt down to scoop up a drink. The water tasted wonderful, soothing his parched and raw throat.

Sitting back on his heels, he surveyed the area. There were tropical flowers everywhere. Wild orchids and birds of paradise grew out of the rocks and some purple vines trailed up the trees. The roar of the water obliterated all other sounds, acting like white noise for his sensitive ears. It was the most peaceful place he'd ever been.

Oh yeah, and then there was that wolf.

"Hi, Blair," Jim said congenially. "Don't ya think it's a bit odd you being here? I mean a wolf's not exactly a jungle animal. You don't really fit in."

The wolf stopped it's pacing in front of Jim and said, "Hey, this is your dream, Einstein. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Shit, I don't know. I don't have a clue why I'm even here. Last thing I remember, I was just minding my own business, dying from pneumonia. Next thing I know, I'm dressed like an extra from Rambo and stuck here in this sauna. How the hell should I know what you're doing?"

"Jesus, are you always this whiny when you get sick?" the wolf asked before heading over for a drink from the pond. When he was finished, he turned back to Jim and regarded him with blazing blue eyes.

"Think, man. What do you dream about? What does your little heart desire?"

Jim stood up and walked over to a stand of flowers and bent to smell them. Oddly enough, the flowers smelled like book dust.

Spinning around to face the wolf, he said, "I wanna to see you morph into Blair again. If I hadn't been so horny over Alex that last time I had these dreams, it would have been really cool."

Sometimes Jim wondered why he couldn't ever just keep his mouth shut. He didn't talk nearly as much as Sandburg, but it seemed like he always finished his statements with something stupid. True to form, he'd succeeded one more time in pissing off the wolf.

"Oh yeah! Remind me of that, why don't you? That's an image I want to take to my grave ... you sucking face with Miss 36DD and Don't These Implants Look Natural? You never know when to shut up, do you?"

At least Jim had the presence of mind to look embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he kicked at a clot of dirt.

Giving Jim what could only be termed as a look of exasperation, the wolf shrugged its wolf shoulders and then turned into Blair...a naked Blair...a very alive, very naked Blair. Jim gulped so loud that he frightened the birds. Blair just grinned at his discomfort and wiggled his hips a little.

"Enjoying the show?"

"Huh? Oh yeah...you're naked."

"Real bright, Jim. What'd you expect under all that fur? Armani?"

Jim shook his head to clear it, then muttered, "Why couldn't I dream about a Sandburg that wasn't a smart-ass for a change?"

"Because I'm the Sandburg you want...naked and smart-assed."

Blair waggled his eyebrows suggestively, then sauntered over to stand in front of Jim. He just stood looking up at Jim with his hands on his hips and his dick swinging between his legs. Jim just kept staring at the apparition, his mind racing for something clever to say. Nothing was forthcoming. Eventually...as always...it was left to Blair to fill in the blanks.

"I think this is the part where we do something sex-related."

"Huh?"

"Come on, Jim!" Blair snapped his fingers in Jim's face. "Get with the program. This is a sex dream, Einstein. Let's have some or I'm going back to being a wolf. That is...unless you're into a little bestiality!"

"God, you're a demanding shit," Jim grumbled as he pulled the t-shirt off over his head.

"That's better. Now lose the pants. No...wait. I've got a better idea."

Now Blair seemed more excited. He was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet as he put both hands on Jim's shoulders and pushed him down onto the damp ground. Jim couldn't take his eyes of Blair's dick that was bouncing right along with him.

"There. Just like that," he said as he knelt down in front of Jim. He looked so proud of himself for figuring Jim out. "I think this is something you'll like."

Blair's eyes sparkled with mischief as he took his own cock in his hand and began to stroke it roughly.

"You love to watch guys jerk off, don't you Jim?"

"No," Jim gulped. "I mean...yeah...I guess I do."

There was no point in lying about it. It was his dream. It wasn't like anybody else would be privy to any of his revelations made in it. Besides, it was true. He did like to watch. Always had.

"That's right. Bet you did this all the time when you were in Vice. What'd you do? Hang out in rest stops and monitor the glory holes? Or did they send you to the park restrooms? Bet you volunteered for that assignment."

"Uh..." Jim mumbled, no longer capable of rational thought.

Blair was right, as always. Then Jim thought, Of course he is. He's just saying what you're thinking.

It was all getting a little schizophrenic, but there Blair was, his square hand sliding up and down and over his beautiful dick. Jim had seen some dicks in his time...Blair was right...he did volunteer for those assignments...but he'd never ever witnessed anything like watching Blair pleasuring himself. His hair was wild and sweaty and his face was scrunched in concentration and his mouth...oh that mouth...was open a bit as he panted and moaned with his own gratification.

"Oh god, that feels good. And I know what else you like."

Blair continued to pump his dick with quick, vigorous strokes...hand working in a circular motion that made Jim think of someone unscrewing a bottle. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working though. Jim watched as Blair's dick grew...the head reddening and beginning to leak. He felt his heart rate quicken to match Blair's, then groaned aloud as Blair took one of his own nipples between his fingers and began to play with the nub.

"That's right, Jimmy. Just look but don't touch. That's your style, isn't it? Bet you did a lot of that in Vice, didn't you? Lot of looking? Or were you into letting the pervs off with a warning in exchange for a blow job or two? Nah, not Mr. Law and Order. Bet it got you real hot though...every time they sent you into a gay bar to stake it out. "

Blair's voice was husky with need, but he continued to stare at Jim intently while he spoke. All the while his one hand pumped and twisted and worked the stiff column of flesh. The other moved from nipple to nipple, tormenting them with nimble fingers.

Jim realized that his hands were clasped in front of him and that he wanted nothing more than to grab his own dick and match Blair's actions, stroke for stroke.

"Nu uh! Keep your hands off, buddy boy! I said look, but don't touch."

Blair never missed a stroke as he admonished Jim who suddenly felt like an errant schoolboy. That thought made him harder than ever. He looked back up and Blair was grinning like a madman as his hands kept working, working, working.

"God, you're so easy."

Just as Jim started to make a clever retort, Blair's grin turned into a grimace and come shot out onto Jim's bare chest. It felt like molten lava against his skin, burning the sensitive flesh in its wake. Blair milked his cock, shaking every last bit out so that it landed in huge wet spots on Jim's body.

"Oh my god!" Jim breathed as he palmed his own dick, the single touch enough to make him come, too.

Falling back onto the leaf-covered soil, Jim breathed heavily as he came down from his orgasm. It had been better than anything...any time he'd watched beautiful men jerking off or sucking each other or fucking in alleyways. That had always been hot...dangerous and exciting. He'd been caught at it and privately reprimanded, but it never stopped his desire to watch. But now he thought, Maybe I'm cured. No one will ever be as beautiful or dangerous or as fucking unbelievable as watching Blair come.

When the stars finally cleared from his eyes, Blair was hovering over him, hands clenched on Jim's biceps. But Blair wasn't naked, he wasn't blue and he definitely wasn't amused.

"Shit! Jim, you scared me to death! I couldn't get you to wake up."

Jim blinked some more, but Blair stayed right there, dressed as he had been for work, with nothing but concern written all over his beautiful face.

"I was sleeping," he said. It sounded logical...obvious even, but Blair still seemed more than a little upset. His forehead was crinkled with worry as he looked right into Jim's eyes. Blair brought a hand up to touch Jim's forehead once again, but Jim batted it away.

"Jim, man, I came back to get my checkbook and I could hear you up here moaning like crazy. I thought you were in horrible pain, but when I tried to wake you up, you just...refused. It was kind of spooky."

Blair looked so pretty standing there...his beautiful face a study in compassion, backlit by the sun streaming in through the skylight. For some reason that just made Jim even more defensive.

"I'm fine, Sandburg. I was asleep...dreaming...asleep. I'd like to go back to sleep now if you don't mind."

It was too much. He shouldn't have been so surly. Blair had been concerned and it wasn't his fault that Jim had just been having an incredibly erotic dream and not some fever-induced seizure. But once again, the words had left his mouth before he'd had time to think them through and once again, he'd pissed off his best friend. It was becoming a really bad habit.

"Sure...sure, man," Blair mumbled as he retreated down the steps. "Anything you want! God forbid I care about my sick partner. Nail me to a cross because I'm concerned that he might be having some kind of seizure and came up to check on him. I never should have crossed the threshold of the sacred loft of The Sentinel of the Great City. No need to worry about Jim 'Never Sick a Day In My Life' Ellison. No, sir. Not gonna waste any more energy on compassion. All it gets you is a kick in the teeth for your trouble."

Blair continued the litany of martyrdom right out the front door and down the elevator. Jim tracked him until he revved up the Volvo, then tried to stand up. He had to hang on to the dresser and his legs were shaky, but he managed to propel himself forward. His boxers were soaked in front and he felt thoroughly disgusting so even though he also felt like death warmed over, he had to clean up. Bracing one hand on the wall and holding the railing with the other, he made his way down the steps and into the bathroom. There he shucked the come-covered garment and wadded it into a ball. Jim opened the hamper and shoved his boxers as far down in the dirty clothes as he could reach, then stepped into the shower.

The hot water felt good beating a tattoo against his already feverish skin, but the strain of standing began to take its toll. After a cursory soaping, Jim rinsed himself, then stepped back out into the steam filled bathroom. He dried himself off, then pulled on the brown cotton robe that always hung on the back of the bathroom door.

Since he was up, Jim decided to make himself some tea and toast. It took the rest of his energy, but the hot liquid felt so good as it burned its way down his raw throat. He only ate a couple of bites of the toast before deciding that food was not what he needed at all. Leaving the partially eaten toast and the empty cup on the coffee table, Jim decided to catch a nap before making the hike all the way back up to his room.

He stretched out on the couch and pulled the blanket down over him. That got him another fit of coughing for his trouble. He was seeing spots and his chest hurt like a son of a bitch by the time he finally got his breath back. Sinking back into the pillow under his head, Jim once again closed his eyes on the loft and opened them to the sapphire jungle.

"Hey, you're back," the wolf remarked as Jim stumbled forward over a root that had worked its way up out of the soil.

The wolf had glanced over his shoulder when Jim had appeared and after his casual greeting resumed drinking from the pool of water before him. It looked kind of like the river that Jim and Sandburg had jumped into when they were hunting Quinn only not as cold. There was a different waterfall this time...not as tall and more rough looking. Still, Jim could feel the spray against his face. It felt really good.

"Sandburg, what the fuck am I doing here again?" he growled at the wolf.

The wolf turned around slowly and regarded Jim warily, then once again morphed into Blair. Once again, he was as naked as the day he was born...only a whole lot hairier.

"Gee, I don't know," Blair leered. "You think maybe you've got some unresolved feelings towards me that need worked through? You think maybe this is your subconscious's way of dealing with the fact that you're hot for my bod but you're just too chicken shit to do anything about it?"

Blair took a step towards Jim, who promptly took two steps back. Raising his hands in a gesture meant to calm a skittish animal, Blair again stepped closer to his partner.

"Whoa there, Jimbo. It's your dream. You don't have to be afraid of little ole me. So, what's it gonna be this time? How are we gonna resolve the unresolved? A little more mutual masturbation or you gonna get real bold and dream about me sucking you off?"

"God," Jim moaned. "You're an even bigger pain in the ass in my dreams than you are in real life."

"That's an idea," Blair purred as he sidled up to Jim. "I could be a real big pain in your ass, if you'd let me. Get it, Jim?"

Jim rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, I get it Sandburg. Don't you have anything better to do than bug me when I'm asleep? Why don't you go bother Incacha for a while and let me get some rest? I'm sure he's got some interesting shaman things to tell you about. Maybe you can make some sense out of some of those cryptic little expressions he's so fond of."

Jim knew the diversion wouldn't work. As interested in all things shaman the real life Blair was, he just knew that this smirking, arrogant dream Blair wouldn't be fooled by such a lame attempt to refocus his attention on someone else.

"Damn, you're cranky when you're dreaming. I think I'll just have to try that sucking off thing and see if that cheers you up a little bit. I know how you like to think about my mouth and how great your dick would look sliding in and out of it. How's about we give that a try, Oh Great Sentinel?"

Without waiting for Jim's response, dream Blair dropped to his knees and began to mouth Jim's erection which was now magically free of the jock strap that he was wearing ... the only thing he was wearing, he realized. He didn't really get a chance to process that because the sight of his dick sliding in and out of Blair's beautiful mouth really was something he'd always wanted to see and goddamn, it was better than he'd ever imagined!

And oh, could dream Blair give a wonderful blow job! His tongue pressed in all the right places and the suction in his mouth was incredible. And then when Jim thought his brains were being sucked out through his dick, Blair pressed a finger up into his ass. The finger was slick and hot and Blair was stroking his rectum as he slurped and licked and sucked Jim's dick.

And if the fact that Blair was giving him a blow job wasn't fantastic enough, Jim finally got to dig his fingers right into Blair's beautiful hair. It was absolutely the most wonderful sensation...to be sucked off by beautiful, beautiful Blair while weaving your fingers through beautiful Blair's beautiful hair.

All the hot, moist suction created by Blair's eager lips and amazing tongue soon had Jim coming in torrents. His whole body wracked with his orgasm...spasming and jerking wildly...like the biggest C-4 explosion he'd ever seen right there in his crotch. His vision went psychedelic and all the colors of the universe sparkled in front of his dazzled eyes as his body shook with his climax.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Blair smacked him across the face. It wasn't one of those leading lady in a huff smacks or an ‘I know you like it when I play rough’ smack, either. It was a hard, wake up you idiot slap square across his cheek.

"What the hell?" Jim sputtered, opening his eyes to gaze up at Blair again. "Why'd you do that?"

"Christ, Jim! I thought you were having some kind of fit again. You were all over the couch, making these really creepy noises, like...I don't know what. It was just weird. I don't think I'd better go back to work after lunch. I'm afraid to leave you here alone."

"So you think hitting me is the best way to deal with it? Good thing you chose anthropology over medicine, Sandburg!" Jim growled up at his fully dressed partner...his partner who'd obviously not just given him the blow job of his life...the partner who now clearly thought he was insane.

"When'd you get here," Jim said more quietly as he pulled the blanket up to cover the wet spot on his robe.

"A few minutes ago."

Blair sat down on the coffee table and leaned forward to feel Jim's forehead again.

"Oh man, you're burning up. I think I'd better get you to the hospital, Jim."

Looking past the concern in those bright blue eyes, Jim saw the tormentor of his dreams. Oh yeah, Blair was playing a good game at being the worried roommate, but he'd have to get up pretty early to convince James Joseph Ellison that he was anything but a satyr in navy Dockers.

"Of course I'm burning up. It's 95 degrees in the shade. Now, just leave me alone, Sandburg."

There, that would work...not.

"Jim, you're sick. The doctor said you have pneumonia. Now, that's nothing to mess around with. People die from that. And look at you. You're wringing wet and shaking like a leaf. I don't think those pills are doing you any good at all."

Jim waved away Blair's hand that was just about to move his blanket and sat up. That was obviously not the right move. His head started spinning so bad that he had to fall back down onto the couch before he threw up. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his dry lips.

"Oh yeah. You're in real good shape. Just lay there, Jim. I don't care what you say, I'm calling Doc Hester."

Blair was suddenly implacable in his determination. Striding over to the phone, he kept up his tirade about Jim's state of health.

"I'm tired of this shit. You're burning up...and it's not hot in here. You can't even sit up, let alone stand up, and you're going into these zones that are bordering on the psychotic."

Jim's eyes followed him as he stalked across the room, focusing on the slim hips and the curve of his ass and the legs that were short but would probably fit perfectly around Jim's waist. Blair stopped griping long enough to listen to the recorded message, then slammed the phone down.

"Well, shit! Hester's out of the office today. They're advising their patients to head to 'Prompt Care' at Bayside General."

Jim had managed to gently scoot himself into a sitting position and compose himself enough to reason with his roommate when Blair came back around and plopped down on the coffee table.

"Come on, Chief. You know what it's like there. I'll be sitting in a crowded waiting room with 300 sick kids for 10 hours and then they'll just give me more antibiotics and send me home. I just need to rest. If it'll make you feel better, stay home with me, but I'm not going to the hospital."

Blair's eyes scanned over Jim's face, taking in the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes. He'd never seen Jim look this sick and the fear shined brightly in his eyes.

"Okay. We'll stay here for now," he agreed finally. "But I want you to take a cool shower, then get back to bed. If you get any worse though, your ass is in that waiting room so fast you won't know what's hit you."

"Yes, sir," Jim smirked as Blair stood and offered a hand to pull Jim up.

Somehow, he managed to stand, keep the blanket in front of his lap and get into the bathroom without being majorly embarrassed by the huge wet stain on his robe. At the rate he was going, he'd be lucky to have any clean clothes left by the time he'd recovered.

"Do me a favor, would ya Sandburg?" he called from behind the bathroom door. "Go up and get me some clean shorts and a t-shirt. I've been sweating like crazy and this robes' gotten kind of disgusting."

Blair nodded, making a small happy noise at finally having something constructive he could do for his partner.

The shower did make Jim feel better and so did getting in yet another set of clean clothes. He wasn't hot anymore and the congestion that had been rumbling around in his chest for the last five days felt like it was breaking up. As he stood and shaved, he tried to focus on his inflamed bronchial tubes and see if he could hear them expanding and rejuvenating with each breath. In the end, he realized that the rumbling he was hearing was just the dishwasher.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Blair was there with a glass of juice and some warmed up hot and sour soup. He was just standing there in back of the couch with a glass in one hand and a mug in the other and a funny look on his face. Jim gave him a nod and reached for the juice first. While he drank it down, Blair carried the mug around to the coffee table and set it on a coaster.

"I thought soup would feel better going down your throat rather than something scratchy. Oh, and I called Simon. He said to go ahead and stay home with you today and tomorrow, too, if I think it's necessary. I laid it on pretty thick about the fever and the weird attacks, so he thinks you're at death's door. He also thinks you're contagious and I didn't have the heart to tell him that pneumonia isn't, so I just let him think it. I guess it worked though, 'cause I don't really have the sick time to take, but I guess considering how much time I've already donated to the department, he decided to cut me some slack."

As Jim took up his position back on the couch, he watched Blair talk. He really wasn't listening to the words...something about Simon and staying home and pneumonia not being contagious...he just mostly watched Blair's mouth and Blair's hands and the way his whole body went into the explanation. Then Blair stopped talking and all motion stopped, so Jim knew that was his cue to say something.

"Thanks a lot, Chief. I...uh...appreciate your taking care of me."

Blair looked kind of disappointed by Jim's thank you, but he just turned and went in and grabbed the other mug of soup and the other glass of juice. He carried them into the living room and sat down on the other couch. He looked at Jim over the top of his glass before he started talking like there'd been no gap in the conversation at all.

"No problem, man. Give me a chance to catch up on the talk shows. I haven't gotten to see any since I started at the academy. When I was an undergrad at Rainier I used to go to the student union every day at noon just to watch Jerry Springer. I love to watch the people in Springer's audience come up on stage and fight with the guests. Rosie's pretty tame, but Ricki Lake is actually a fascinating display of exactly how far people will go for a little bit of fame. Besides, I haven't gotten to see any transsexual, nymphomanical kleptomaniacs that are having their best friend's father's babies for ages."

Jim ate his soup while Blair surfed channels, keeping up a running commentary on every program he passed up until he found Andy Griffith on TV Land and settled in for some homespun humor. Blair laughed like a delighted child at Barney Fife and Jim found himself laughing along with him. When that was over, Blair switched to Maury Povich, who was discussing men who other men usually thought were gay. Trent Something, a florist from Newark, was lisping about his sister's sweetheart when Jim finally nodded off.

"Oh fuck! Not again!" Jim gasped as he pulled free from a passionate kiss.

"Way to give a guy a complex, Jimbo," Blair grinned as he pushed his hands up under Jim's favorite Motorhead t-shirt. "Good thing I've got this giant, economy-sized ego thing going here. Otherwise, I might think you would like it when I did this."

And then Blair began to nibble on one of Jim's nipples. He'd bite it, then lick it, then blow on it, then give Jim a little grin and do it all over again. Pretty soon, Jim was squirming all over the jungle floor as Blair continued to torment his tits and start on a pretty impressive hand job.

Something was wrong with it all though. There was talking in the background and the jungle floor felt funny and when Jim opened his eyes, there were four people sitting in a semi-circle around them. The people were all staring at him and Blair with these horrible looks of disgust on their faces. Jim got the impression that they were the kind of people that would rather be watching WWF wrestling rather than him and Blair having sex.

Blair didn't seem to be bothered by the people and just kept slithering up and down Jim's body. But Jim couldn't handle their scrutiny. He heard one of them...the skinny woman with missing teeth and a bad perm...call them perverts. The pimply guy with red hair and an overbite nodded his head in agreement and soon all four were chanting "Sodomites! Sodomites! Sodomites!"

That's when Jim tried to push Blair away. He tried to shove at Blair's shoulders, but Blair had his legs wrapped around Jim's waist and his hands were busy playing with Jim's balls so Jim really wasn't shoving too hard. Maybe words would work.

"Blair, please," he begged, but then he wasn't really sure what he was begging for so when Blair started kissing him, he kissed back.

"I'll stop if you want," dream Blair said as he pushed a hank of hair from his face and shifted into a better angle. "But I don't think that's what you really want, is it, Jim?"

The people quit chanting and somewhere off in the distance, Montel Williams started coaxing Jim on.

"Go on, man. Tell him! Tell him what you want! Audience? Should Jim tell Blair what he wants?"

The crowd went wild. Shouts of "Fuck him, Jim!" and "Tell him you love him, Jim!" rang out through the unseen audience and into Jim's head.

Swept up with the fervor of the crowd, Jim grabbed onto dream Blair harder and ground his pelvis up into his very own succubus.

"God, I want you so bad," he murmured between kisses.

"Tell him you love him, Jim," Montel screamed. "Tell me you love me!"

"I love you, Blair. God, I love you."

"I love you, too, Jim."

Dream Blair's hands glided over Jim's body, again pushing under his t-shirt, stroking the well-defined muscles as he plunged back in for another kiss. His presence felt warm and strong and alive in Jim's arms.

"Feels so real," Jim gasped. "Feels so good. Don't want to wake up."

"Oh man, if this is a dream, I don't wanna wake up, either," Blair moaned as Jim wrapped his legs around his dream lover and bucked up against him. To emphasize his point, Blair slid a hand down the front of Jim's shorts and grasped the growing bulge possessively. Jim moaned appreciatively as his mouth was captured in another hungry kiss.

"Like that, don't you?"

Dream Blair's voice was more sultry than in any of the other dreams and his touch was rougher and hotter. Jim could feel Blair's dick, hard and weeping, as it pressed against his stomach. He dug his fingers into the dark curls and once again thrust up against Blair's thigh.

"Oh god, Blair. These dreams are gonna kill me," he moaned as Blair began to scoot down his body.

"This ain't no dream, babe."

"Of course it is," Jim said as calmly as he could with dream Blair about to give him his second blow job of the day.

"Jim? Jim? Are you okay?"

Blair's voice was sure insistent...adamant even.

"Mmmm, yeah. This is the best one yet."

Now dream Blair had his hand clutching Jim's chin. Geez, he was kind of shaking him. Dream Blair was such a pushy little bastard.

"Jim! Open your eyes and look at me!"

"I see you, baby," Jim drawled. A lazy grin spread across his face. "Gonna turn back into a wolf on me?"

"Huh?"

The grin turned to grimace as dream Blair's grip on Jim's chin tightened. Opening his eyes as instructed, Jim immediately noticed that the hazy blue of his dream was gone. And there was one very solid, very aroused, very real Blair straddling his body.

"Oh shit!"

"Jim? What's wrong?"

Blair's grip on Jim's chin turned into a caress, as he searched for some clue that Jim was now fully aware of what was happening. For his part, Jim was fully aware of what was happening. He just needed a way to make it never have happened.

In an effort to divert Blair's attention from what was potentially a very embarrassing situation, Jim turned his head and coughed. Apparently he was better because his cough sounded fake even to him. It did have the side benefit of causing his body to shift so that his dick rubbed roughly against Blair's ass.

"Nice try, Camille," Blair said in a tone that suggested that it was anything but. "Wanna tell me what this is all about?"

Jim turned back to face his ... what? What do you call a man that's your friend, your partner, your roommate and who happens to be straddling your lap with a woody that's boring a hole into your stomach?

"I thought I was dreaming."

It sounded even lamer when he said it aloud than it had when he'd thought of it seconds before.

"Okay," Blair said patiently. "Did this dream have anything to do with me?"

Jim stared at the pocket of Blair's shirt. The tiniest spot of ink showed through the fabric. He wondered if he should mention it. Instead, he said, "Uh huh."

"Okay."

Blair kept right on sitting on top of Jim, lightly stroking Jim's face, trying to get Jim to look him in the eye.

"Was this dream...erotic?"

To emphasize his point, Blair kind of wiggled his ass against Jim's dick.

That made Jim look up. And not for the first time that day, he noticed what a really beautiful smile Blair had. And what really beautiful eyes he had. And how gorgeous his face looked when he was smiling down at Jim.

"Uh huh."

"Okay. And did...maybe...you want what was happening in the dream to be real?"

Jim could tell that even though Blair was trying really hard to keep up his teasing tone, the last question was deadly serious. It deserved a serious answer.

"Uh huh."

He expected a smart-ass answer...or a funny answer...or even a long and involved answer. What he didn't expect was Blair's beautiful eyes to fill with tears and his gorgeous mouth to quiver.

"Oh Jim."

The words were spoken so softly, so reverentially, so lovingly that Jim could do nothing more than pull Blair down for a tender kiss. Blair came willingly, wrapping his arms around Jim's neck and gently returning the kiss. As they continued to kiss, shyly opening mouths to admit exploration, Jim brought a hand up to cup the back of Blair's head. He finally had his hands in Blair's hair for real and his mouth on Blair's mouth for real and it was better than any dream he'd ever had.

Blair ended the kiss and laid his head down on Jim's chest as Jim continued to card his fingers through the tangle of russet curls. As much as he loved the feel of Blair in his arms, his weight was too much pressure on Jim's already abused chest.

"Come on, babe," he nudged gently. "Let's take this upstairs."

"Oh god, Jim," Blair gasped as he practically levitated off Jim's body. "I'm so sorry. I forgot all about you being sick. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

Jim pulled himself up to a seated position, straightening his clothes as he went. A lazy grin spread over his face as he thought about how he really felt. There were times when Blair bugged the shit out of him. And there were times when he knew he'd give his right ball for some time apart. But most of the time, he really liked having the guy around. He kept Jim alert...on his toes. Jim never knew when Blair would come up with some ridiculous test for him to try or the missing piece to the puzzle that was Jim's mind. He was a companion...a buddy...a pal.

But Blair touched something else deep inside Jim that even Jim didn't really understand. Blair had made that crack about Jim being his blessed protector when they'd first met, but Jim had always known that it was Blair that took care of him. And without even realizing, he'd come to believe that if Blair said it, it was true. Blair was his...what had Incacha said? Some gibberish about finding the light, but the light having to come from within him. Jim had always really hated the way Incacha had talked in bizarre metaphors. Sometimes he'd just wanted to scream "Just say what you mean. dammit!" Maybe this time, Incacha had been right, though. Blair was his light. He made Jim's whole world brighter.

Grabbing Blair by the front of his shirt, he pulled him back down so that he was once again straddling Jim's legs. Framing Blair's face with long fingers, Jim let his thumbs travel over the exquisite mouth, chin and cheekbones. What he had memorized so long ago by sight, he now mapped by touch. Blair was such a feast for his senses.

Blair sat in uncommon silence and let Jim touch him to his heart's content. Soon, Jim's hands left his face and traveled down his neck, raising a path of goose bumps in their wake. Sliding down Blair's shoulders, they once again guided his arms around Jim's neck. His body followed the motion and he was again only a whisper away from Jim's lips.

"You could never hurt me, Blair. You're my light...my life."

"Shit, Jim. Now you're scaring me," Blair said as he reared back to better scrutinize Jim. Reaching up, he laid a hand across Jim's forehead, feeling again for fever.

"Your fever's gone," he said thoughtfully. "How you feeling?"

"Great," Jim beamed. "My chest is still kind of sore, but other than that, I'm doing great. How 'bout you?"

Jim rubbed at said chest with one hand and reached up and ran a finger down the side of Blair's face with the other. He kind of liked the idea of a speechless Sandburg. Easing his hand around to the base of Blair's skull, he gently pulled his Guide in for another kiss.

"Mmmmmmm...I'm doing real good now," Blair moaned between soft kisses. "But let's get you upstairs. I don't want to have to carry you up all those steps when you pass out from my masterful and physically powerful love-making."

"God, you're a cocky little shit."

Jim grinned up as Blair stood and offered him a hand. He couldn't resist the urge and yanked him back down for some more kissing. It felt so good to hold his lover in his arms and it felt so good to kiss and grope him and hell, it just felt so good to feel good again.

"We're not making much progress," Blair gasped as Jim nibbled on his left ear.

"Oh, I think we've made a whole lot progress," Jim muttered between kisses. "But I am getting a cramp in my leg. I'm just not sure I care enough about it to let you go."

Blair pulled back enough to look Jim in the eyes.

"I'm never letting you go, Jim. I was born to be with you...to love you. And I will...always. Now, come on. Let's take this party upstairs before I embarrass myself and either come in my pants or break into song."

"Oh god, Blair," Jim groaned. "What you do to me!"

"Oh, Jim! What I plan on doing to you!"

Dropping a kiss on Jim's nose, Blair jumped up and headed for the stairs. Jim sat a moment to watch the younger man shed his work outfit, leaving a trail of rumpled clothes up the steps. When Jim got to the top step, he had an armful of laundry and look of pure delight on his face. Of course, the fact that Blair was laying on his bed, centerfold style, naked with one leg propped up, didn't hurt a thing.

"So, what's your pleasure, big boy?" Blair grinned, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "See anything you like?"

Jim tossed the armful of clothes over the railing and as he leaped onto the bed, he growled, "Oh, you are so dead, Sandburg."

Within seconds, he had Blair underneath him, his arms pulled up over his head and a major hickey on his neck. It took a few minutes longer to squirm out of his clothes because he kept having to stop to kiss Blair or to pinch a nipple or cup Blair's dick in his hand. Jim ended up getting his boxers caught around his ankles and when he tried to pull them free, Blair took the opportunity to flip him over and drape himself over Jim's body.

"So, who's in trouble now, Ellison, huh?" he purred as he squeezed Jim's biceps, then leaned forward for a kiss.

"I am," Jim murmured. "I am in so much trouble."

"And you love it, don't you?"

"Love you, Blair. Love you."

And then he did.

END

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Author’s Acknowledgements: Thanks as always to my sister for her ideas and support and to Mary for the great job beta-ing. Thanks also to Patt for getting me involved and Lisa for putting it all together.