THE ACCIDENTAL OUTING
Written for Margaret's challenge - Blair has an experience that has the potential to make him cringe for years afterward - or not. This is for Margaret, because I love her, even when she spells Patt's name wrong <LOL>.
It was all Jim's fault. I mean, all he had to do was knock before he barged on in Okay, I don't actually have a door on my room; I have a curtain type of thing that Jim rigged up the day after he asked if I'd like to stay on past the one week deadline he'd originally given me when I'd cajoled and wheedled my way into his home. Hey, my place blew up. What was I supposed to do? And over the years, I've gotten pretty good at cajoling and wheedling for things I really want. It's a gift.
Where was I? Oh right, no door. Well, he could have banged on the wall next to the curtain or made one of those loud 'ahem' noises like people do when they want to interrupt you but don't want it to look like they are.
Jim did neither of those things. No, he just barrelled on in through the curtain that's supposed to protect my privacy and invaded it - my privacy, that is. Not that I haven't thought about him invading other things. Man, there's this one fantasy I have Whoops! Not gonna go there. No way, Jose. I mean that's what caused all this in the first place. Fantasy. Well, that and Jim acting like he owns the place (which he does, in a totally literal sense) and walking into my room without knocking, 'ahemming' or doing anything else he could have done first.
So, yes, this whole situation is Jim's fault. Absolutely. No question. Which makes me wonder why the hell I'm the one sitting in here behind my closed curtain, blushing beetroot-red down to the soles of my feet and afraid to venture out into the other room where he is.
Well, it was like this. We'd been at a party for Simon's birthday at the swankiest hotel in town Okay, so maybe not *the* swankiest but it was definitely the most upmarket place Naomi Sandburg's little boy had ever been invited to.
We ate a great dinner, had more than a few drinks then Rhonda suggested some dancing before we all piled drunkenly into cabs to go home. The couples in the group - H and his lady, Debbie, Rafe and his new girlfriend, Melody and Simon and Amy all headed out onto the dance floor.
That left me and Jim and Rhonda sitting around at the table like third wheels on a bicycle. Rhonda looked faintly pissed off, which was fair enough seeing as it had been her idea to do the dancing thing in the first place. She sighed a few times, tapped her fingers in time desultorily to the music and fiddled with her wineglass.
Finally, Jim, being the well-brought up guy he is, stood and asked her if she wanted to dance.
Rhonda shot out of her seat like a shuttle on the launchpad.
I watched them for a while and then I just couldn't anymore. Couldn't watch sweet, beautiful Rhonda being held up close and personal in Jim's arms, in *my* Sentinel's arms, where I'd wanted to be ever since the day he shoved me up against the wall of my office and almost made me part of the University infrastructure.
So I left. Hailed a cab, took the elevator up to the loft, let myself in, went through the curtain to my room and lay down on the bed. I pulled out my favorite Jim-fantasy, and just revelled in it for a while, stroking my hand soothingly over my clothed cock. Soon, that wasn't enough so I unzipped my pants, pulled them down to my thighs, took myself in hand and let the fantasy rip.
I was biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, my eyes clenched shut, as my climax zoomed closer and closer and just as it hit, I moaned out his name and came hard.
Then I opened my eyes and saw him backing out of my room.
"Blair? Are you okay?"
There's a tentative tapping on the wall next to the curtain. *Now* he learns how to knock!
"Yeah, I'm fine, man." 'I'll be blushing till the day I die,' I think, 'but apart from that I'm just dandy.' "Give me a minute, will you?"
"Can I come in, just for a minute? I just want to talk to you, all right?" His voice is hesitant, almost shy.
I look at the damp evidence of my fantasy on the bedspread and grab a dirty t-shirt out of the small pile next to my bed. I lay the t-shirt casually but cleverly over the wet spot then sit back down. After all, he may have seen me whacking off but I don't think he'd be too happy about sitting in the end result of it. "Come on in," I call as if my heart isn't about to drop down into the basement and take me with it.
"Hey," he says as he pushes the curtain aside and comes in. He looks at the t-shirt and plants himself dubiously down on it. "Look," he begins, "I'm sorry-"
"Yeah, well, you should be," I interrupt. "You've got hands, you know. You could have knocked."
"I know," he says. "I was worried about you. Rhonda and I were dancing and then I looked up and saw you leaving. I thought maybe you were sick or something so I jumped in a cab and when I got here I heard " At least he has the grace to blush now. "I thought you were sick," he says, a defiant kind of finality in his voice.
'Lovesick,' I hear my voice saying in my head even as I shake it. "I'm fine, a little embarrassed but-"
"Don't be," he whispers and then suddenly his lips are on mine and he's pulling me against him and before I can stop myself I'm moaning his name again, this time right into his very talented mouth.
An eternity of downright dirty kissing and groping later, I manage to push myself back an inch or two away from him. "You don't mind?" I manage to gasp out.
"Jesus, Blair, seeing you on this bed, coming like that and saying *my* name was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Oh, and in case you're wondering," he leans in and kisses me again, gently and sweetly this time, "I'm in love with you."
Then he pushes me back down on the bed and covers my body with his and I know, without any doubt, that it doesnt matter that I don't have a door for him to knock on. There are no barriers between us anymore.