Is Fair Play

Is Fair Play - Laurie

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Note: This story is a sequel to Turn About…

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Jim hooked his partner around the neck and pulled him close to his chest; despite letting out a squawk, Blair didn’t resist being snuggled up into Jim’s personal space.

“Sandburg,” he whispered. “I’ve been planning my retribution for weeks now, ever since my long day of following your commands. This time, you are ‘mine to toy with.’” Then he proceeded to give Blair a pretend noogie, to satisfy any watching eyes that it was the usual horseplay going on between them.

Predictably, Blair whined, “Not the hair.” But… his protest was a sham because his captive pressed even closer to Jim’s body; Jim started making plans for an immediate exodus from the bullpen.

The rich, drugging smell of arousal wafted up to Jim’s nose, causing him to deeply breathe in Blair’s scent, and he had to rein in his desire to continue to run his hands through Blair’s hanging, tempting curls.

Before he did something he -- and Simon -- would regret, Jim gave a final rub to Blair’s scalp and turned him loose. Blair yelped to continue the charade, but the touch on his head had been sensual -- a lover’s touch, not a bossy big brother’s love tap.

Jim gathered his coat and Blair’s, handing the leather jacket to its owner before walking over to Simon’s office and knocking on the door. At Simon’s command, he opened the door and stepped inside, to let his captain know he was going home early. Through the blinds he could see his partner fidgeting. Blair was clutching the dark jacket; Jim supposed his lover was finding it a poor substitute for being able to lay his hands on Jim himself. Hang on, Chief. We’ll be home soon and you can touch me to your heart’s content.

After their lovemaking, Jim didn’t know how Sandburg had any energy left to even open his eyes, let alone launch an attack on Jim’s ribs.

“Chief, if you don’t stop trying to tickle me into making me spill what I’ve got in mind for you tomorrow, you’re going to be one sorry sadist.” But Blair didn’t stop and Jim lay still and let his lover’s devilish hands whisk lightly over his torso. Blair was tickling his way right into the trap Jim had decided he deserved.

Jim finally grabbed Blair’s hands and tsked, tsked at him. “I’m not laughing, Mr. de Sade, because I dialed down my sense of touch, and I don’t feel a thing. But you, my little tormentor, you can’t do that, can you? I think I’m gonna go tit for tat here; let’s see how long you hold out when I tickle you.” Jim quickly straddled Blair’s thighs and held both his prisoner’s wrists in one hand, then he began his own inquisition.

Blair rapidly started howling with laughter and gasps, wriggling like an eel on their bed, but the stubborn little shit wouldn’t call uncle. Jim finally changed his touches to heavier strokes on Blair’s naked skin and thickening penis, and the laughter died and the moans began.

“Tomorrow, Blair,” Jim crooned to his lover, while he worked on building Blair back to orgasm. “You’ll find out soon enough, tomorrow.” Before long, Blair’s body shook and he cried out, helpless, as he was made to come, Jim holding him down tightly till Blair’s body collapsed against the sheets. Jim kissed him on the forehead and covered them both up, as Blair slid without protest into sleep.

“G'way,” Blair mumbled and tried to pull the pillow over his head to stop the annoying pats on his face. Dimly, he heard the overly saccharine tones of his early-bird-lover.

“Nah-uh, Sandburg. You’re my boy for twelve sweet hours today. And now, time to get showered and dressed. We start as soon as you’re out of the bathroom. You’re going to fix me your banana pancakes for breakfast, and then I’ve got a long list of chores for you to do. But I’m making a game out of it. Should be fun, at least for me.”

Blair blinked his eyes open to see the smirking expression that went along with the sugary voice of his lover. His unruly dick, already stiff from the usual morning hard-on, gave a lurch at the thought of being under Jim’s command for the whole day. Jim pulled the covers off of him, and then reached down and polished the head of Blair’s penis. Blair closed his eyes again and sighed contentedly.

“Be a good boy for me, Blair, and,” Jim stroked Blair’s dick knowingly, “you’ll be rewarded. Give me lip, and I’ll let you go hard and wanting. You going to cooperate?”

Eyes half open, Blair watched his dick receive another stroke; he spread his legs, hoping Jim would want some before-breakfast exercise, but Jim just laughed at him and stepped back from the bed.

“If you want to be fucked today, Sandburg, you’ve got to get up and follow my rules. I followed yours when I lost my bet and now it’s your turn.” Jim reached down and pulled Blair up from the bed and turned him in the direction of the stairs. Blair felt a sizzling swat on his butt that finished waking him up and left his nerve endings tingling for a good five minutes after he got in the shower.

Blair had been annoyed, amused, aroused, and then aroused to the tenth degree by Jim’s antics during the morning spent doing chores at the loft. After he’d gotten dressed in his jeans, thermal and flannel shirts -- and since he was at home -- his earrings, nipple ring, bracelets and necklaces, Jim had explained to him what exactly he was to do this morning.

Breakfast had been fun; Blair enjoyed cooking, so making the banana pancakes hadn’t been any kind of hardship at all. Jim kept making suggestions to himself out loud, making sure Blair heard all the options for sexual positions that he might put Blair in later today. Blair had to keep adjusting his jeans and he knew without a doubt Jim was aware of the effects his words had on Blair. It was all Blair could do, not to squirm too much on the hard kitchen chair, as Jim debated the relative merits of Blair with his legs over Jim’s shoulders or on all fours, while Jim fucked him.

Consequently, Blair’s pump was already primed when Jim outlined the little game he wanted to play with him while Blair toiled to do chores this morning.

By early afternoon, Blair was naked, and the bathroom was clean, the kitchen floor mopped and swept, the bed made, laundry carted downstairs and upstairs and folded, breakfast dishes washed and put away, furniture dusted, windows washed, and the floors vacuumed. After each chore was completed, Jim had removed an article of clothing from Blair, and then proceeded to kiss and touch him till he wanted to scream from frustration.

Each time at the height of his arousal, when he wanted to jump on Jim’s leg and hump him, if he couldn’t have Jim’s hands or mouth or ass, Jim would turn him so that Blair’s back was to Jim’s front, and take Blair’s hands captive and just hold him till the greedy and panting noises Blair was making had died back down to whimpers. Then the bastard would calmly tell him which task was next and how his shirt, or pants, or necklace would be removed when that particular job was completed. He would adjust the room temperature up another notch, so Blair didn’t even have cold air to dampen down his libido.

Blair had never, ever cleaned anything in a haze of lust before, and he cursed his decision to wear jewelry this morning. Jim had left taking that for last; being naked wearing only his bracelets and necklaces made him feel even more wanton.

Jim’s eyes had branded Blair all morning during each and every chore done to Jim's exacting standards, and he was perspiring, and flushed, and hard, and dying to come.

Finally, after stumbling through the last chore on the list Jim had named, he told Jim he was done.

Jim plucked off his ankh necklace so he was down to just his nipple ring; he licked his lips, waiting for Jim to administer the coup de grace -- or shove him into a cold shower.

Jim walked around him, eyeing Blair from his toes to the tip-top of his hair. Then the prick resumed the damn ritual he’d invented this morning and brought him back to wordless noises and sobs. But there was a god and his name was Ellison, because Jim lifted him up and sat him on the counter, spread Blair’s legs widely apart and proceeded to give him the blow job of the century.

When Blair had re-grown his spinal cord and could sit up straight again, Jim lifted him down from the counter and told him not to shower, but to get dressed in exercise clothes. They were going to Wonderburger, and afterwards to the gym.

Several hours later they returned, Jim in a wonderful mood and Blair again harder than petrified wood. Jim had taken on the role of Blair’s trainer and had him using the machines, and doing exercise routines, and then he'd accompanied Blair on a run. Afterwards, he'd made Blair spot for him while he lifted weights, and watching Jim’s muscles pump up had made Blair very glad for the roomy sweat pants he was wearing.

Jim had been scenting him all afternoon; apparently the combination of pheromones, perspiration and the smell of Blair’s semen, some of which Jim had rubbed into the skin of Blair’s penis, was acting like catnip to a lion – if lions liked catnip, which maybe they did, but had anybody ever done any real research on this topic? He thought he might look into it, but right now, Jim was advancing and looking ready to pounce on him.

Pouncing was fine by him. He welcomed pouncing. Pouncing – God, Jim was licking his neck, and then his sweatshirt was being pulled off of his body. The rest of his clothes were quickly stripped away, and he was naked and Jim wasn’t – the feel of Jim’s clothes against his bare skin was intoxicating -- and Jim was giving him little bites on the neck and licking his nipples and he was so grateful for pouncing.

He tried to articulate this to Jim, but the words weren’t that intelligible and then he was bent over the table and Jim was fingering his ass with cold, cold lube and then he was lost in the sensations of being fucked. His mind went on a kaleidoscope ride with the sensations of Jim’s dick plunging into his ass, the feel of clothing against his naked skin, the submission he felt to Jim’s taking him. His world narrowed down to this moment: Jim fucking him was his universe – his existence. And when he came so blindingly hot – a new galaxy was born, spiral arms flung out in helpless rapture.

Jim didn’t let Blair get dressed the rest of the afternoon, just wrapped him in a blanket and tucked him next to him on the couch, while they watched Little Joe and his family tame the west. Again. Still, this was Jim’s day, and Blair wasn’t going to critique the actions of white settlers who had driven the Native Americans from their homelands. Not after Jim threatened to gag him.

Jim idly played with Blair’s hair, and his wandering hands would meander into the folds of the blanket and tweak, touch or twist various and sundry bits and pieces of Blair’s body. He kept Blair at a low level of arousal, till they’d watched several episodes, and laughed uproariously when Blair recounted the plots back to him in an entirely new format.

As the sun was setting, Jim got both of them to their feet and explained the plans for the rest of his twelve hours. When Blair started to protest, Jim reminded Blair that he was Jim’s boy to do what he liked with for the next several hours. And what he liked was for Blair to get cleaned up and dressed up for an evening with him out in Cascade. Their first stop would be at the mall – where Jim intended to buy Blair a few outfits that didn’t scream Good Will bargain. Then they were going to eat at that new expensive seafood restaurant that Simon had been raving about. Then… well, they’d see then. Maybe a late evening stroll by a beach. Jim’s twelve hours would be over by that time, but he told Blair he hoped they could agree to finish the day with a look at the sky and the ocean.

Blair gave him an enthusiastic kiss, the blanket falling unheeded to pool around his feet.

“Love you, Jim,” he whispered, arms tight around his lover, and smiled when Jim replied, “Me, too.”

Jim gave him a light noogie on his head. “No, you dork. I love you, Blair Jacob Sandburg. Now get going, we’ve got an agenda to complete here.”

Blair reluctantly let go of Jim and obediently headed to the bathroom; he congratulated himself on another well-laid plan.

I wonder if Jim knows I rigged that bet yesterday so I’d lose. Maybe I’ll confess my sin after our walk on the beach tonight.

Of course, if he did, Jim might think he deserved a spanking… thinking about the tingling his butt had felt this morning from Jim’s swat… maybe that would be a good thing.