Title: Some Like It Hot

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Email address: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Fandom: The Sentinel

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Status: Complete

Date: 11/24/00

Category: Plot What Plot, First Times

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own 'em, not me. They make the money, not me.

Notes: This is PWP, no more, no less. If the smell of garbage is a possible squick, pass this one by. But trust me, Jim had no such trouble overcoming that obstacle.

Summary: Blair comes up with a rather unique solution to Jim's problem with his senses.

Warnings: m/m

*****

Some Like It Hot

By Silk

Okay, I fell into a dumpster full of fresh garbage. Wet, aromatic garbage. Is that any reason to turn a guy away? Because he *smells* bad?

Yep. It's good enough reason for a Sentinel, man. Those hyperactive senses kick in and he's ready to heave his guts out on the sidewalk here. Thanks, Jim.

So I'm doing the usual, giving him the old pep talk, "Dial it down, Jim." I realize it's not a solution to the problem, but maybe it'll get us through the next few minutes, right? But Jim is giving me his pinched look, like the entire contents of his face have been sucked out by aliens or something. "Sandburg," he growls at me, "you know there's no way in hell you're getting in my truck like that, don't you?"

Righttt.

I try the puppy dog look. It works about 90 percent of the time. But not this time. Nosirree.

"Jim, do you have any idea how long a walk it is back to the loft?"

Jim nods. "Exercise'll do you good, Chief."

"Uh huh."

Pause.

"I got a better idea."

Jim is looking at me with a mixture of disdain and laughter. Imagine his surprise when I...

...start stripping off the offending clothes. One by one. I unbuckle my belt, and my jeans slip to the level of my crotch.

Now I've got his attention. Does he know he's staring? I never knew blue eyes could look so hot.

It's a good thing we're in an alleyway. Nothing but garbage cans and the garbage that goes in 'em. Not a soul in sight. 'Cept Jim. And his radioactive eyes.

I move towards the truck, and Jim gets between me and the truck, as if he's planning to physically bar me from getting in. I shake my head. That wasn't my intention.

I slide between Jim and the truck, leaning on the side of it. I give my hips a twist, and my jeans fall to my ankles. I kick off my shoes, and balance on one leg to pull off my jeans. Jim is a statue.

Make that a *hot* statue.

I begin unbuttoning my shirt. Flannel, of course. Keeps a guy warm and toasty. This is starting to feel like a fucking striptease now. I'm really getting into it. Even if it is *Jim*.

I think I *like* the way he's looking at me. It makes me feel...like he wants to eat me. Oops, bad choice of words. My cock just got the message that it's been sprung from prison, and it's heading for them thar hills at the speed of light.

Jim is swaying. Closer. Closer. Close enough to...kiss. Fuck, where did that come from?

I must be pretty potent if I can seduce a Sentinel through this stink. Even *I* can't stand the smell of me now. Gotta get the rest of this stuff off *now*.

Hey, Jim wants to help.

He doesn't say a word. He just rips my shirt off, popping the remaining buttons. After that, he ignores my startled cry of surprise to pull my long-sleeved thermal shirt over my head. Damn, he's seen the nipple ring. I haven't been wearing it since the weather got colder. But this morning, for some reason, I felt like dressing up, I guess.

Now I'm naked to the waist. The only thing I'm wearing now is a loose pair of boxers that hide way more than they reveal. Lucky me.

I've gotten so accustomed to the silence that it doesn't occur to me that Jim said something. "What?" I query dumbly.

"I said...*everything* has to come off, Sandburg."

Jeesh, the least a guy could do is call you by your first name when you're standing in an alleyway, up against a truck, with your naked butt about to hang out.

I hook my hands inside the waistband of my shorts and slowly lower them to my ankles before kicking them away, too. As improbable as it sounds for someone like me, who is *always* cold, I am now hotter than a pistol. Heh.

"Jim?"

"Don't talk."

Jim takes huge handfuls of my hair and pulls my face up. I think I'm blinking stupidly at this point. He's so close, he's a blur. All I can see, all I want to see is that mouth. He kisses me, but God, there has to be another word for this, this consuming, exulting, possession.

I can't breathe. I don't want to breathe. Our mouths open, what air we have left, we share.

His leather jacket is open. My hands slide under his polo shirt, palming his nipples until they peak to chiseled points. He's still kissing me; he's changing angles, but he doesn't stop. It doesn't feel like he'll ever stop. Oh, God, I don't want him to stop.

How can we get so lost in a kiss that we forget about the fact that I'm naked? I don't know. I'm afraid to let go of him for fear he'll come to his senses. Ha! Senses! That's how this whole thing started.

His jeans-clad leg suddenly finds the heart of me. Pressing his thigh in between my legs, he starts thrusting. I shudder. I don't want to hump his leg, but I do. I can't help myself.

The urge to come is bubbling up in my throat. Like a scream that's working its way from deep inside. "Jimmm..." I manage to gasp hoarsely.

I know this has been the most glorious ten minutes of my life so far. But I wouldn't give ten cents for that life if I come all over him.

I try to warn him, but suddenly I *get* it. He wants me to come. He's moving harder, faster. Why, why is he doing this for me? He's never given me a single sign that he would be interested in doing the horizontal tango.

Suddenly I don't care about why it's happening. Only that it *is*. I arch against his leg, and that's when I register that he's replaced his leg with his own hardness, struggling to break free of its confinement in those tight jeans.

As soon as I feel *him*, I come. I come so hard, I can't suppress the sound that must strain Sentinel ears. I'm wet. So wet. I've never been so wet. That's because I'm covered in come. But some of it isn't mine. Some of it is seeping through that huge damp spot on Jim's jeans.

Christ, I made him come in his pants. What'll he do to me? What'll he do to me?

Fuck, he just kissed me again. Right before he buried his face in my hair. He feels like he's trembling. Must have come as a shock to him, coming that way. Must have been-

He's muttering something under his breath. Something I can't quite make out. "What, Jim? What did you say?"

He looks at me with those hot blue eyes. Oh, yeah, they're still hot, even if the intensity is turned down a shade now. He cups my face in his hands. I quiver with anticipation. I wouldn't be surprised at anything that came out of that mouth right now.

"I love you, Chief."

Oh, yeah. That was worth the wait. That was worth risking rejection. That was-

Wait, he's saying something else now. "Huh?"

"But you're still not getting in my truck."

"You bastard."

He laughs and sticks his tongue in my ear. I think this could be the start of a whole new relationship for us.