Blair Sandburg sat and stared at the screen feeling slightly pissed off and more than a little disheartened. The rectangle of virgin white glowed, seeming to tease him with its pristine surface. The quarter inch black line of the cursor blinked off and on like a small heartbeat. God, it almost matched the beat of his own heart. There had to be something freaky in that. He would quite happily strangle the annoying teasing little line at this stage of the game. The thought of the steadily throbbing black line being choked back to a flickering, struggling flutter before being extinguished forever made him feel slightly better.
His shoulders slumped and he leaned back with a sigh, his hands falling away from the keyboard. No, it didn't. Killing the cursor wasn't going to help. Neither was getting up to get another cup of coffee, or going to the bathroom again or looking for another book under the excuse he needed it for background research. He'd been sitting at the table for over an hour staring at the laptop screen. It was late afternoon and this paper *had* to be written today. He'd put it off as long as he possibly could and there was no putting it off any longer. He had all the information. He knew the material. He snorted. Knew it backward, forward, up, down and sideways! So why was this so difficult?
He ran his hands through his hair, fingers tightening in the long strands and pulling in frustration as if he could pull the information from his head. His finger's tightened to the point of pain in disgust with himself. He was smart, ranked right up there in the genus level, for God's sake. This paper should have been a no-brainer. Where the hell was that flash of creativity when you needed it? That little gem of inspiration?
A soft whisper of sound from behind reached him just before he felt his partner's nose nuzzle his ear.
"What's the matter, babe?"
The breath from the sleep-roughened voice tickled his neck, sending shivers down his spine and causing his cock to give a slight throb and take interest in the proceedings. His hands shifted, releasing his own long curls to reach further back to run lightly over the close cropped hair of his roommate. He loved the feel of the soft, short hair as it caressed his fingers, tickled his palms. His heart raced as he tilted his head to bare his neck. "God, I've been searching for you for an hour and there you were, all this time."
"Searching for me?"
The murmured words from the lips brushing his neck interested his cock even more and he had to shift positions just a little for comfort. "Ummmm," he managed, his IQ having shifted into regions further south.
"I was just napping on the couch. You should have called."
His earlobe was brushed with the tip of a scorching tongue, barely giving him warning before it disappeared into the furnace lit between the lips devouring it.
"Oh, God," he whispered, his breath disappearing along with his thought process. What was it about this man that could do this to him? No one else had ever had that power. Ever. Why Jim Ellison?
Turning his head, he claimed his partner's mouth, his tongue exploring the heat within. He'd always heard that hell was the one that was hot.
When they broke apart, Ellison's voice carried the lust he could feel in his own soul. "Why were you searching for me?"
It took a second for him to find the breath, "Inspiration," he breathed.
The loft had darkened when Blair Sandburg lifted his head off the hard surface of the table, grimacing at the sticky, wet slurp that accompanied the movement of his bare skin peeling away from the tabletop as he raised up. "Jim?"
Jim Ellison appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, a wet wash cloth in one hand, a lazy contented smile on his face. He stopped, leaning his free hand against the door frame to stare at his partner. Sandburg lay propped up on one elbow, his free hand playing with the white puddle on his stomach while a small smile played along his lips. "Do you have any idea how you look?"
Sandburg looked up with a grin, his hair falling into his eyes. "Like the morning after the night before?"
Ellison shook his head as he moved forward. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'completely desirable,'" he told him as he pushed his friend back down and gently cleaned his partner's body.
The younger man laughed up at him. "You've got it bad if you think I look desirable right now, Jim."
The cop shrugged bending down to prop on one hand to give his lover a slow kiss. "Never denied it, Chief. Never denied it." He brushed his lips against the soft lips of his partner. "You said I was your inspiration? You've got it all wrong, babe. *You're* the inspiration." He started to stand up then froze, his eyes widening as he stared above his partner's head. "Ahhh, Sandburg?"
The graduate student twisted his head around to try to see what his partner was staring at. From his angle, all he could see was his laptop sitting at the end of the table where it had been shoved when his partner had pressed him down before undressing him. He tried to read what was on his formerly empty screen. It was now covered with typing. The angle was wrong and all he could see were letters. "What the hell? I didn't write anything. That was the problem."
"Looks like you did," Ellison said. "But I think you may have to redo it. I don't think they're gonna accept that particular paper of yours, Chief," he said, nodding at the screen.
Sandburg rolled over to sit upright and squinted, since his glasses had been misplaced in their lovemaking. About three-quarters of the entire screen was covered with letters, line after line of the letters y, h, g, n and other random letters. "What the ." His voice trailed off in puzzlement as he sat up and pulled his laptop toward him. "What *is* this?"
"It's the report of our lovemaking, Chief," Ellison said with a grin.
"What?" Sandburg looked up in confusion.
The detective reached down and pulled several long curly hairs free from the keyboard. "I guess we didn't push it quite far enough away." His left eyebrow shot up in speculation as he stared at the blank look on his partner's face. His eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on the bottom of the Microsoft Word screen. "Two hundred and thirty-six pages! If you can do that well typing with the back of your head, I wonder how you'd do with other parts of your body."
Sandburg stared at him in righteous indignation, at least as much righteous indignation as a man can having sitting naked on a tabletop smelling of sex. A look of pure devilment entered his eyes and he grinned. "Well, at least it wasn't a short story."