It gets him bitten, Blair's teeth fastening onto his shoulder with a fierce, determined desperation, but it's worth it because Blair has to move one hand to make room for his mouth on Jim's skin and the displaced hand ends up on Jim's back. Blair's fingers claw and shred at spine and skin -- oh, perfect, yeah, get that itch right there, will you, Chief? -- and Jim groans in ecstasy and rewards Blair with a flick of his thumb over the slippery smooth head the next time he's up there.
Then he makes another slow pass of his clenched fist down and up and down -- agonizingly slow, glaciers would overtake him in a race -- and Blair detaches his incisors from Jim's flesh for just long enough to curse him, making 'sadistic son of a bitch' sound like seduction and compliment rolled up into one tight bundle.
Blair's face is flushed, hot, and strands of hair lie glued to his cheek. He's Vitamin C, chicken soup and aspirin, flannel-wrapped, take three times daily (going to take him, have to take him) and bottle this and the world would rejoice, because Jim is feeling no pain.
If he ignores the kneading of his shoulder, the clawing of his back and the way that Blair is biting him again, somewhere around his left nipple, tiny, sucking, viciously exquisite bites in time with his awkward, frenzied attempts to fuck Jim's hand and interrupt the gently remorseless rock of Jim's wrist.
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It gets him bitten, Blair's teeth fastening onto his shoulder with a fierce, determined desperation, but it's worth it because Blair has to move one hand to make room for his mouth on Jim's skin and the displaced hand ends up on Jim's back. Blair's fingers claw and shred at spine and skin -- oh, perfect, yeah, get that itch right there, will you, Chief? -- and Jim groans in ecstasy and rewards Blair with a flick of his thumb over the slippery smooth head the next time he's up there.
Then he makes another slow pass of his clenched fist down and up and down -- agonizingly slow, glaciers would overtake him in a race -- and Blair detaches his incisors from Jim's flesh for just long enough to curse him, making 'sadistic son of a bitch' sound like seduction and compliment rolled up into one tight bundle.
Blair's face is flushed, hot, and strands of hair lie glued to his cheek. He's Vitamin C, chicken soup and aspirin, flannel-wrapped, take three times daily (going to take him, have to take him) and bottle this and the world would rejoice, because Jim is feeling no pain.
If he ignores the kneading of his shoulder, the clawing of his back and the way that Blair is biting him again, somewhere around his left nipple, tiny, sucking, viciously exquisite bites in time with his awkward, frenzied attempts to fuck Jim's hand and interrupt the gently remorseless rock of Jim's wrist.