Night Moves (Sentinel Sonnets 26-33)

by Kass

A PWP, in the form of an eight-sonnet series. Set sometime during the week following the episode "The Debt," in which Blair made Jim breakfast to apologize for his monkey trashing the loft, and Jim made that "courtship ritual" comment.
Jim and Blair belong to Petfly; the sonnets, however, belong to me.

*"Courtship ritual"? What does he think,
I'm trying to seduce him? -Don't get tense,
He only made a joke. At my expense,
It's true, and yet - I'm turning pink -

He's not far off the mark, if truth be told.*
Blair stared into his tea; a pointed cough
From Jim shook him alert. "Hey, sorry, man."
Jim watched him blush; Blair shivered. "Kinda cold,"

Rubbing his arms, his motions brisk.
*There, that'll fool him, kiddo,* Sandburg thought.
"You're cold? That's funny," Jim said. "Me, I'm hot."
His voice caressed Blair's eardrums like a whisk,

Half-rough, half-quiet. Blair's palms were all wet.
And then he woke: in bed, but drenched in sweat.

"God damn," he said out loud, and sighed, and flopped
Back on his mattress. *That's three dreams this week,*
His helpful brain supplied. *Man, he would freak
If he knew how I savored every copped

Caress, the tests excuses just to touch
His ears, his hair, brush past his skin.
I can't believe the mess I've got me in,*
Blair thought. *He'd kill me, thank you very much.*

Blair sighed and settled in, went back to sleep.
This time the dream was different. Breakfast, gone;
No jokes, no instant replays, just Blair, on
His back, a kiss, a tongue thrust deep.

Asleep, Blair sighed; Jim heard it like a bell,
Gritted his teeth, went down the stairs to yell.

The sight he found stopped him short at the door:
His temporary room-mate, bare, sheet tenting,
Spread out across his bed, nipple ring glinting.
Jim'd never really looked at men before,

Which gave him no good reason just to stand
Against the doorframe, watching, but he stayed.
Blair's arms were all akimbo. In the shade
Cast by the moon Blair moved, and clenched one hand

Into the sheets; the other touched his chest.
He gasped, then started talking. "Oh," he sighed,
And Jim tried hard as hell to override
The stirrings in his groin. "Mmm," then, "the best,"

And his thighs parted as his voice kept sighing,
And Jim was hard as Blair. He felt like crying.

"Oh God, like that," Blair slurred. Jim closed his eyes,
Then opened them again, and it hit him
Like freight trains when Blair twitched and cried, "Oh, Jim!"
Jim groaned out loud, in need and in surprise.

The sound shook Blair awake. "Huh?" he said, odd,
Then realized Jim was there, and cringed, and turned
To hide the painful spots where blushing burned
His cheeks. "I'm sorry," flat, "Oh God, oh GodÂ’—

I woke you up - you saw - " he stopped. "I'll go."
Jim's silence lengthened. He could smell Blair's fear.
"Sandburg, shut up," he said, surprised how clear
His voice could sound. Jim blinked. He didn't know

Whether to kick Blair out (Lord, what a week) -
Then he opened his mouth, began to speak.

"You, lying there," Jim started, voice pitched low,
"All wrapped up in your sheets" - his quiet pacing
Didn't mean his heartbeat wasn't racing -
"Touching yourself, letting your hand go

Where you imagined mine -" (and Blair was shaking)
"May be" - and Jim got quiet, Blair had to lean -
"The most erotic thing I've ever seen."
Let out a breath that he'd forgotten taking.

"Really?" asked, and "Really," Jim concurred.
"So you won't kick me out?" Blair ventured, shy.
Jim laughed, a deep low chuckle, rich and wry
And thought of Langston Hughes, and dreams deferred,

And asked, "You want some company?" Blair said,
"Oh man, oh yeah," and fast, Jim joined his bed.

At first the kiss was gentle, Jim uncertain,
But then he heard Blair whimper, full of meaning,
And Jim resolved that he would have Blair keening
(So fuck research, to hell with Richard Burton)

And so Jim raked one nipple with his finger
And smiled to hear Blair's breathing going ragged
Then grazed it with his teeth, their surface jagged,
And paused to sniff and taste, let himself linger

Until he felt Blair straining for release
And deftly moved away, leaving Blair cursing,
And Jim attacked one nipple, almost nursing
And felt his limbs go heavy, warm, at peace.

He raised his head. "Tell me," voice thick as cream,
"Tell me what I was doing in your dream."

The blush spread from Blair's face down to his chest.
"You touched my nipples, just like that," Blair choked,
His throat tight with desire. His hard-on poked
The air insistently, but his request

Was almost silent. Still, of course, Jim heard
"And then you sucked my cock," and, without thinking,
Jim licked the tip, then took him in, like drinking.
From Sandburg's mouth came not an English word

But something like a blessing, quiet, pleading.
Jim pulled away. "You like this?" and his breath
On Blair's tormented body was like death
(The little kind). Blair's wave of needing

Came off of him in quivers. Jim said, "Tell."
"Oh, please," Blair wailed; Jim took him in; Blair fell.

The feel of Blair, head thrown back, body sighing
Sent Jim over the edge. They came in tandem.
Then Blair lifted his head, smiled "That was random,"
And Jim discovered that his eyes were crying

Although the rest of him felt happy, sated.
"That was incredible," Sandburg amended.
Jim moved to hold the man that he'd befriended
Realizing that the glow had not abated,

That all his skin sang out at Sandburg's touch.
"Yeah, Chief," Jim said. He thought. "I mean, I felt
The blood beneath your skin." Blair seemed to melt.
"I didn't think that I'd like it this much."

Almost asleep, Jim's face began to burn
When Blair whispered, "Tomorrow it's my turn."

The End