Beginnings Part 4
A/N: Blair's conscience & libido go
stream-of-consciousness. Takes up where NB3 left off.
Is it wrong? It probably is. I shouldn't even have to wonder -- my finely-honed moral sense ought to kick in and tell me and be done with it, right?
But unfortunately my moral sense has taken New Year's Eve off, leaving me with just my physical senses... senses which have apparently made New Year's resolutions of their own to try to live up to Jim's fine example and have catalogued all the details of the strange episode with Jim's nightmare. Fantastic.
So... is it wrong to be trying to relive those sense-memories, to be taking physical pleasure from my unexpected late-night encounter with him, which was supposed to be about comfort and friendship?
Should I really be lying here, stroking myself as quietly as I can while I remember the sight of his pale skin glowing in the low light of the loft, remember the feel of his skin under my hand, the strength in his body as he held me tightly for a few delicious and treasured moments...
I probably shouldn't be tugging on my nipples through my thin T-shirt as I try to inhale any bit of his scent still clinging to the fabric -- I can smell him, but I don't know if it's real or just a memory...
It's not like I mind jerking off to remembered and fantasized images of my partner. I mean, nothing new there, that's for sure. What is making me twitchy is that he was seriously upset, still caught up in his nightmare even after waking, and worried about me, and here I am, turning it into something... else. It's like I'm taking advantage of him -- but that's silly, isn't it? I mean, he's not even here.
Even if I'm doing my damndest to pretend that he is.
It can't be right that I'm here trying hard not to moan as I roll my balls between the fingers of one hand and fist my cock with the other, with him upstairs trying to get back to sleep after I sent him into nightmares... and even in his nightmares he looks out for me, worries about me, in his wholesome and platonic way, and I pay him back by sliding a finger into my ass as the image of him looking at me all needy and vulnerable plays back in front of my closed eyes...
No, it can't be right. He's probably up there, still tense, having had a piss-poor start to the new year, and here I am enjoying his pain -- but I'm not, really I'm not, it's just, god, how can I help but do this, he was worried about me, and he needed me, and he is just too damn gorgeous for me not to react to a middle-of-the-night visit, even if he's hurting, still up there hurting...
Maybe he's even reaching out for me now, in that painfully-platonic buddy way, sending his senses down here to make sure I'm OK, make sure that I at least have gotten back to sleep... but maybe he's too much of a gentleman, maybe his moral code wouldn't let him spy on me, hopefully he long ago decided not to snoop down here and to leave me some privacy, because otherwise he must realize that no, I'm not asleep, I'm down here biting my lip and imagining him letting me console him by giving him a blowjob and not just a glass of water, he must be able to sense that I've been hard since I was sitting there on his bed with my Sentinel half-naked both physically and emotionally and holding on to me, he can probably hear me nearly panting though I'm trying not to because this can't be right, can it --
Oops. Guess it's a moot point now...
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