Hide and Seek
Category: Established Relationship
Summary: Jim tries to find Blair's new tattoo.
A/N: Had to post an entry to this challenge as it was too delicious to pass up.
The bullpen was shaken by the loud roar, "You got a WHAT?" All eyes turned to one Detective James Ellison who had just returned from a weeklong police conference that he had attended with his captain and friend, Simon Banks.
"Would you keep it down?" hissed Blair Sandburg, his partner, Guide, and lover.
Jim took two deep breaths and said in a much softer voice, "Please tell me that I didn't hear what I thought I did. I just imagined that you just said that you got a tattoo."
Blair shook his head and smiled, "Sorry, Big Guy, no can do. I did indeed get a tattoo last week while you were away in Seattle."
Jim could feel his blood pressure begin to rise as he envisioned dirty needles, shady practitioners and the like. He said, harshly, "Do you have any idea how dangerous that could've been? Suppose you were marked with a dirty needle. No telling what kind of diseases you could've picked up."
Blair said, smiling at Jim's Blessed Protector routine, "Can it, James. The person who gave me my tattoo is an old friend who's been doing this for years."
Using his senses and his hands, Jim catalogued his Guide. He was able to determine that he wasn't being lied to and that there was no scent that indicated contamination or disease coming from his lover. He asked, anyway, "You saw the needle being removed and sterilized before it was used on you?"
Blair sighed, saying, "Yes, Jim, I made sure everything was done right. Now don't you have some work to do?"
"Yeah, yeah, getting on it," Ellison said, thinking to himself, but don't think that this is over with, Chief.
For the rest of the afternoon, Blair literally teased the hell out of his Sentinel. Every so often he would look up and see Jim staring at him with a very speculative look on his face. He murmured, Sentinel-soft, "Trying to figure out where it is?"
Jim stiffened, and blushed, realizing that he'd been caught out. He asked, "Did you say something, Chief?"
Blair gave him his most wide-eyed innocent stare, and answered, "Who me?"
Jim glared at him in response, and when Blair merely chuckled, he started slinging papers around on his desk in disgust.
Occasionally, Blair kept tormenting Jim by saying, "You're just going to love the tattoo, James. I just cannot wait for you to find it on me. I'm hard thinking about your hands all over me. You want that, don't you, Pet?"
With each softly spoken word, Jim's imagination soared higher and higher. He wanted to find the tattoo now, but looking at the clock, he saw that there were still a couple more hours until quitting time. He loved it when Blair called him Pet, but he gasped when he heard the endearing term, because it was something that was kept between them during their off hours. His dick went from semi-hardness to full hardness and he had to adjust his zipper just so he could survive.
By some miracle, Jim was able to get his mind back on his work and when he looked up next, it was almost time to leave. In all honesty, looking back on this day, he couldn't fully remember what happened next. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw their fellow detective, Brian Rafe, walk up to his partner. "Hey Hairboy," he called out.
"Hey Brian," Blair responded, "what's up?"
"Just wanted to know how you're healing up. Tatt feelin' all right? No damage or infection?" he asked, seriously, but teasingly.
Blair smirked, his glance darting over to Jim and back to Brian. "It's fine, Bri. No problems at all. I've followed all the instructions. Care to see it?"
A low growl coming from the direction of Jim's desk caught both men's attention. Brian saw the ferocious look on Ellison's face and merely grinned, reaching over to capture one of Blair's curls around his finger. The growl became louder and more dangerous, so when Brian tugged on the curl, which was something that made Blair laugh, the man formerly known as Detective Ellison sprang.
"Mine," he said, physically grabbing his Guide from the interloper, not even giving his lover a chance to shut down his computer. He hustled the younger man out of the bullpen and out of reach of the danger.
The travel back to the loft was quiet, yet very quick. Since Jim had been out of town at the conference, Blair had been using the truck to get back and forth to the station. He saw, that in Jim's current state of mind, that he was in no condition to drive, so he drove them both home. During the trip, they kept touching each other, grounding themselves.
When they made it up into the loft, Blair found himself pushed up against the wall with Jim's hands all over him. He shivered at the sensation of the fingers being dragged along his neck, and when Jim lifted his hair off of his shoulders, he merely said, "Not even close. Use those senses of yours, Sentinel."
Jim growled in response and gripped Blair's hand, literally dragging him up the stairs to their bed. His lover's laughter rang through the open space of the loft, but soon the laughter turned to moaning when Jim's mouth attached itself to Blair's neck.
After putting a well-placed hickey on Blair's neck, Jim pulled back and began to slowly peel off the flannel shirts that his lover wore. First one, then the second, then the third, and then when Jim got to the bottom shirt, he literally ripped it off, producing a satisfying tearing sound. The nipple ring that Blair still favored glistened in the sunlight that was bleeding through the skylight, but there was no tattoo anywhere on the chest. Turning Blair around, he examined the well-defined back, but nothing. Blair merely said, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. So cold."
Jim hissed in disappointment and turned Blair back around to face him. He pulled his younger lover to him and gave him a short, but thorough kiss. When he pulled back, they were both breathing rather hard, and then Blair squeaked in surprise as Jim pushed him back on the bed.
Jim crouched on the floor by the bed and began to remove Blair's shoes and socks. When that was done, he closely examined the feet, ankles, and lower legs. Nothing still. "Geez, Sandburg, where did you hide this thing," Jim asked.
"Keep going, James," Blair said, "it's there." The purr that came from Jim's throat was one of the loudest ever as he pushed himself up to his knees and began to unbutton and unzip Blair's jeans. He lowered the zipper slowly while caressing Blair's cock that rested beneath the red silk boxers that he found, which made his lover moan, the sounds of which rivaled his own purrs.
"Lift," he ordered Blair, who immediately complied. With every inch of leg becoming exposed, he looked for the tattoo, but no luck there. When he finished pulling off the jeans, he lifted each of his lover's legs and examined the backs of them. He couldn't keep from nibbling on the back of the knees and that made Blair arch upwards, his cock tenting his boxers. Jim purred as he watched Blair begin to rub himself.
"Keep going, Lover," Blair gasped, curling his fingers around his throbbing cock. "It's there."
Jim swallowed hard, realizing that the tattoo had to be beneath the underwear. "Oh God," he whispered, reaching up to the waistband of the shorts to pull them down the narrow hips. He gingerly moved Blair's hand, kissing the tip of each finger before finally pulling the boxers completely off.
Jim breathed hard, gasping, "Dear Lord," as he finally saw what Blair had been hiding. The tattoo was exquisite and it was placed high on Blair's left thigh. It was the head of a black jaguar and it had blue eyes, but superimposed on the jaguar was a blue-eyed, grey wolf. He traced the tip of his index finger along the exposed skin, gratified at the hissing of the breath between Blair's teeth.
With a sudden move, he pulled back, tearing his clothes off and immediately pounced his lover, kissing him long, hard, and deep. Their tongues meshed and tangled, and their groins rubbed together, making each man groan into the other's mouth. Blair yanked his mouth away, gasping, "Fuck me, James. Now."
"Oh yeah," Jim said, his voice guttural, as he reached over the bedside table and yanked open the drawer, pulling out the lube and condom. He flipped open the lube and poured some on his fingers. He rubbed them together, getting the liquid warmed, and then immediately set to opening his lover. The moans and groans grew louder in volume with each penetration of Jim's fingers. When they brushed against his prostate, his body nearly lifted off of the bed.
"Now, Jim, now," Blair cried out, thrusting hard against Jim's fingers. He groaned when Jim removed his fingers and fumbled with the condom wrapper. "No condom. Take me now."
"You sure?" Jim panted, as he lubed up his cock.
"Yes, yes, yes," Blair chanted, lifting his hips, throwing his head back in ecstasy when Jim pushed inside.
He wrapped his legs around Jim's hips and began to move with each thrust. Both men were reduced to wordless grunts as they pushed towards completion. Blair was forced over the edge when Jim placed his hand directly over the tattoo. He screamed as he spilled over his stomach and the shocks forced Jim into his own completion.
It took them awhile to come down, but when they did, they snuggled with each other. Before they got too comfortable, Jim lazily reached over and grabbed some tissue and cleaned them both up. Blair sighed at the touch, but when Jim touched the tattoo again, he literally purred. "So, Lover," he whispered, before they dropped off to sleep, "you gonna get you one?"
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