The Last Straw

Slam. The drawer rattled on its runners and bounced back out again as Jim searched through the accumulated crap that was piled in Blair's old room. They'd been 'volunteered' to store temporarily the donations for the latest fundraiser the department was involved in, and Jim was sure he'd seen what he needed buried somewhere in the junk.

Christ knows why anyone would want to buy a painted ostrich egg or a pair of roller blades; oh, they weren't donations, he realised, putting them back in the pile that Sandburg had yet to sort out. Jim huffed in frustration and stood up, hands on hips as he searched with keen eyesight around the room. Damn. They weren't here, and he didn't want to ask Sandburg because he knew he'd be ragged about it. It had been embarrassing enough when he'd first suggested it, and he really didn't want his fantasy held up to ridicule.

Sighing, and knowing he'd have to ask him in the end, Jim left the small room and headed towards the kitchen to search there. The sound of the shower running meant that Blair had finally emerged from their bed and Jim wondered guiltily if his banging around down here had woken him up. They'd had a rough few days lately with very little sleep, much less any sex, and Jim had planned on a little snuggling on the sofa tonight while they watched the game. And if he ever found what he was looking for, perhaps Blair wouldn't be adverse to trying it out. Just to see.

"Yo, Jim, game's on in fifteen. Saved you some water if you want a shower while I make the popcorn." Blair came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dressed in soft sweats and towelling his short curls dry. It had been the haircut two days before starting at the Academy that had been the catalyst for their changed living arrangements; a furious Jim had slammed his partner up against the wall, demanding the reason he'd done it. Two minutes later they'd been rolling around on the floor tearing their clothes off in order to get skin to skin.

"Hey, anyone home?" Jim started when Blair's hand rubbed over his chest and he looked down into sparkling blue eyes. He leant down and brushed a quick kiss over full lips, followed by a lingering caress of his hand over Blair's ass, squeezing gently as he pulled away.
"Only you, me, and a bowl of popcorn, Babe. Meet you on the couch in five." Jim leered playfully and trotted off to the bathroom.

Blair waited for the shower to start and then quickly stuck the prepared bowl into the microwave, setting the timer before retrieving the item that he knew Jim had been looking for. Hiding the packet behind the sofa cushion, he took the popcorn out of the microwave and stirred in the melted butter, deciding not to worry about cholesterol tonight. With any luck, they'd be working off the extra calories later tonight. Grabbing the cooler with the beer and the bowl, he settled himself on the couch, waiting for Jim to finish in the shower.
"Two minutes, Jim, and I'm starting without you." he whispered and grinned as the bathroom door opened and his lover emerged wrapped in just a towel around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his shoulders.

Patting the cushion next to him, Blair encouraged Jim to sit down, and wasn't at all surprised when his lover dropped down and stretched out like his spirit animal, his head resting comfortably on Blair's stomach, his arm curling around his waist. Blair clicked on the remote and the pre-match commentary started.

Two beers and half the popcorn later, Blair snuck a hand down the side of the cushion and withdrew his prize. Jim glanced up and his eyes widened slightly as he saw what Blair was holding. A delighted grin spread across his face, matched by Blair's.
"Ready to try this, big guy?" Blair smiled indulgently as Jim turned slightly and laid his head in his lap, closing his eyes in anticipation. Blair shook his head in loving exasperation at the things he did for Jim, and bent his head to his task.

Jim hummed in appreciation as he felt the first drop on his lips, his tongue flicking out to catch the still-warm butter before the kernel was dropped into his mouth. Watching through his lashes, he saw the fierce concentration on Blair´s face as he manoeuvred the popcorn from the bowl using just a thin tube of plastic. He grinned and bit into the delicacy, tilting his chin to indicate that Blair should feed him another piece.

“I knew it was a mistake to let you watch that foreign advert program, Jim.’ Blair used his fingers this time and moaned when Jim sucked them into his mouth, his tongue laving every trace of butter and salt from each digit. Jim sat up slightly and looked around for the packet that Blair had hidden earlier.
“My turn, Chief.’ He said, eyes still searching. Blair picked up the empty cellophane wrapper and held it up for Jim to see.
“Sorry, Jim, but I had to practice. That was the last straw.’

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