Notes: Thanks to Sunglow for hashing it over with me. I was going for humour all the way, but then Jim decided he didn't want to play...
"Hurry up, Jim, you'll miss the best bit!" Blair called over the back of the sofa to Jim, who was digging around in the fridge for two more beers.
"That's why we've got a remote control and a video player." His voice was slightly muffled until he emerged from the frigid depths with his prize, "Ah hah!"
"I thought you were supposed to do a beer run earlier?" Blair accepted the frosty bottle and moved slightly to allow Jim to flop down next to him.
"I was, but someone decided to distract me." Jim elbowed him and leered playfully, loving the smug grin that curved Blair's mouth around the bottle.
"Yeah, well…" Blair elbowed him back and then snuggled under his arm, handing the larger man the remote control.
"Ready?" Jim tightened his arm around Blair and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
"Uh huh." Blair wiggled closer and waited for Jim to press the pause button. He grinned as the familiar sight of Mel Gibson getting his ass kicked filled the screen and then sighed as Rene Russo joined in, long legs making short work of the bad guys.
"I love that bit."
"Shhh." Jim wasn't going to be distracted again, no matter what Blair was doing with his hand on his thigh, but it was difficult when he could feel every hair stand on end at the tantalizing touch.
"I can do that." Blair pointed out, rubbing Jim's thigh again.
"Do what?" Jim looked away from where Mel was showing off a bullet wound.
"Compare scars. Look, bullet wound from Quinn." Blair tapped his thigh where it emerged from his ratty lounging boxers. Jim loved those; they were just threadbare enough to cling.
"So? I have mine from Zeller."
"And this one." Blair rubbed the faint scar near his eyebrow from the Ventriss case. He scrambled out of Jim's arms and crossed his legs, not seeing the pained look that crossed his face.
"That's not really something I want to be reminded of, Chief."
"Hey, it'll be fun."
"Fun? Are you crazy?" Jim exploded out of his seat, pacing up and down in front of the TV. "The only reason you have those scars is because of me!"
"Not all of them are from the last four years, Jim." Blair snagged his hand as he passed and tugged, tumbling Jim on top of him, "See this one?" Blair lifted his t-shirt and Jim could see a faint line on his side.
"Not noticed that one before."
"And here I thought you'd explored every inch of me…" Blair teased gently, "I got that one from an expedition when I was twenty. And this one?" he held up a finger and Jim looked hard, seeing another line.
"Where's that one from?"
"This one?" Blair twisted his leg so Jim could see the back of his knee, "Rope burn."
"What happened there?"
"When I was a kid a group of us had a motorbike that we used to tow an old go-kart. I got tangled up one day."
"See? You're not responsible for every mark on my body."
"Soooo…" Jim settled into the comforting arms of his lover and licked his neck, "you wanna compare?"
"One with most goes on top?" Blair bargained, angling his head to expose more skin.
"I win either way, Chief."
"That's a paper cut." Jim protested.
"So? Stung like a bitch, and it scarred."
"But only I can see it."
"So we're even?"
"Looks like it." Blair's voice held a tone that indicated he was having an idea, "Unless…"
"Chief, that's disgusting, and you're washing the sheets tomorrow if any of that gets on them."
"I'll put a plaster over it."
"Leave it alone."
"No, this is one time I'm going to beat you."
"I always knew you were competitive, but to pick at a scab just to leave a scar…"
"Hey!" Blair yelped as he was unceremoniously hauled up the stairs and tossed onto the bed. Not giving an inch, he grabbed Jim by the shirt and twisted so the taller man landed on the bed, laughing.
"You don't need to resort to that just to be on top, Babe." Jim reached up and tugged him close, "I said I'd win either way."
"But nothing. Here, let me count them again, just to make sure." Jim stripped Blair of his clothes and proceeded to map his body, using his eyesight and touch to guide him. By the time he'd reached Blair's ass, he was hard as a rock and Blair was panting underneath him.
Following the line of smooth skin from his shoulders, Jim took note of the few blemishes and kissed every one right down to the indentation at the base of his spine. Blair's toes curled into the comforter as faint bristles scraped over the sensitive skin of his ass. Then…
"Ow! You bastard! You bit me!" his head swiveled round to glare at Jim, who smirked at him shamelessly, "Will it scar?"
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