By Caro Dee

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A/N: Set during Insatiable I (which can be found on my website), it's an expansion of a small snippet after Chapter VIII. A grateful thank you to Senbeta for the polishing. NC-17.

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Tonight it's Blair's mouth driving me insane. Some nights, it's his voice, quiet and intimate in the confines of the truck. Others, it's his hair, curling wildly around his head. Still others, the warm sparkle in those too blue eyes. Most of the time, it's his scent -- sleep smell, exercise smell, mmm... post-jerking off, pre-shower smell -- but tonight, it's that damned mouth.

Blair's bent over his book, tiny flashlight lighting up the page just enough to read, but not enough to draw attention. We're parked in an alley at one a.m. across from Hannigan's Saloon where Derrick might show up tonight to meet a potential customer interested in stolen guns. Derrick didn't show last night or the night before, but maybe we'll get lucky tonight. I'm bored and Blair's getting a lot of reading done.

We pretty much talked through the first couple of hours of our shift, but even Blair will eventually run out of interesting facts and anecdotes. So the dark cab is filled with the sounds of our breathing and fidgeting and Blair turning pages and occasionally humming sounds of interest. I pretend to stare straight ahead at Hannigan's but I'm watching out of the corner of my eye as Blair meditatively chews his lower lip.

I want to bite that lip like a ripe peach and lick the juices from his chin. That image makes my cock twitch hard and I shift a little to try and relieve the pressure. I've been hard for the past hour and it's a good thing Blair's flashlight is too weak to reach my crotch.

I know that we're not ever going to happen but I can't help wanting it. That's not going to change either. Suddenly, the truck is too small and Blair is too close and I have to get out of here.

"Gotta make a pit stop, Chief," I say, sliding out of the car and moving further into the dark alley beyond the street light to take care of business. Dialing down my sense of smell, I pick a spot and pull out my dick. It feels so good as I slowly slide my hand along its length.

I can see Blair shifting around in the cab. He leans against his door and, from the angle of his body, I can tell he's thrown his legs up onto my seat, taking advantage of the opportunity to stretch out. Part of me grouses because I don't want the shit from his shoes on my ass, the other part loves the fact he's in profile and I can keep staring at that mouth while I jack off. My hand speeds up; I've got as much time as it takes to piss to get off here.

Then, because it's Blair's mouth that has me going tonight, I imagine I have Blair here in the alley -- maybe he's a hooker or maybe he's just Blair -- on his knees in front of me, and I slip my cock right past those beautiful lips and into that warm, wet cavity. Blair's tongue curls around my cock and then begins to lap rhythmically against the head.

I run my finger through the small amount of pre-cum and spread it around. I want to dial up high enough to feel the sperm wriggling but I can't risk it on the job. But the evaporation against the night air is cool and a nice counterpoint to the imaginary heat of...

I've... I've got my hands wrapped in that hair and holding his head still, as I rock over and over again into his sweet mouth. He's making happy, humming noises. That's it, Blair... that's it. Suck me, baby.

In no time at all, I'm panting and oh-so-close, eyes glued to Blair waiting for me in my truck. He's leaning forward, hair falling over his face. I zoom in through the gaps to the sweet silhouette of his mouth and speed up my strokes. Even though I know I'm running out of time, it feels too good. I can't help taking an extra minute to hover on the edge where it's so fucking intense that nothing else matters.

I'm staring right at Blair when he lifts up his head and squints back in my direction. I know he can't see me in the dark, but I can see him and just for a second our eyes meet and oh God, I'm coming -- I'm coming and looking into Blair's eyes. Then Blair turns back to his book and I finish alone, pouring myself into my hand instead of his mouth, the pale, milky streaks hitting the brick wall and clinging to the rough pitted surface.

Another half minute spent savoring the last shivery, exquisite sensations and I know I've taken too long. I pull out one of the single-use baby wipes I've learned to carry with me and do the mop up, tuck myself back in and head back to the truck.

Blair looks up and smiles. "Took you forever. Your kidneys must have been floating."

I can't smile back at him because I'll break into a super-sized, shit-eating grin I have no explanation for. Because I can't tell Blair that every inch of my body is buzzing and he's the reason. So I snort and mumble, "Yeah well, now I'm good for the rest of the night."

Except ten minutes later, I realize I really do need to take a piss now and I can't. Not for at least another hour. Goddamn stakeouts. It's going to be a long night.

Fin

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