Blair's heart sank as he contemplated the terrifying sight of Jim with the field journal in his hand and knowledge in his eyes. He pulled up short and dropped his backpack beneath the coat rack, shutting the door behind him. "How much did you read?" he asked quietly.

"Enough," Jim said, tossing the journal onto the coffee table and rising easily. "Enough to wonder how much of you being here with me has been a lie. Hell, how do I know what you've been thinking this entire time? What else have you been hiding from me?" The thin edge of anger was there in his voice, sharp and calm, primed with hurt.

"I never hid anything from you," Blair shot back, hands stretched out in front of him as if to ward off the suggestion of such a thing. "The key was available to you anytime you wanted it. All you had to do was ask." Inwardly, he began to chart a strategy of denial, deflecting the question with misinterpretation. It was a way out, one that would allow Jim to put the whole thing aside and never mention it again. But curiously enough, Jim didn't seem to want to do that, and the tension in the room became thick and nervous between them.

"You know that's a lie," Jim said calmly, as though he'd just mentioned the score of the ballgame, or the price of coffee. "You know it, I know it. This is about you hiding from what you want, and keeping it from me so you wouldn't have to face it. You lied to yourself, and so did I, and now I want to hear a little truth."

Jim was moving forward in an altogether normal way, but suddenly it seemed predatory to Blair and he took an involuntary step back. Too late; Jim had him cornered, backed against the door, looking at him as a hungry cat might look at a potential kill. Hands on either side of Blair's body, Jim leaned forward and their gazes locked, shades of blue darkening in surprise, reflected against a blue mirror of determination.

"I want to know if you thought of me at night when you were fucking that endless parade of girls," Jim said, and his voice was almost a purr. "I want to hear it from you, Chief. You were going to tell the world everything you knew about me, but none of what you wrote was what you wanted to know, was it?"

"I couldn't give that part of this away," Blair answered, fighting the urge to reach up and draw his fingers down that twitching muscle in Jim's jaw. "I had to keep something for myself. Something no one else would understand."

"Not even me?" Jim's question was wrapped in velvet, but it crackled with static.

"You felt it too," Blair breathed. "You knew, Jim, I know you did, and I knew, but we pretended, oh hell, don't tell me you didn't because I saw you watching, I felt it every time I turned away. I know you wanted me. Want me."

The observation had the desired effect, and Jim's hand wandered into the short, soft hair, shorn for his sake. "How about that word, Sandburg? Dominion. You know what it means, don't you?" His fingers curled around the strangely bare nape of the other man's neck, and Blair's eyes fluttered closed.

"Of course I know what it means. I wrote it. There was nothing else that fit..." Long fingers were stroking up into his hair, and the sensation sent a streak of pure desire through his body, focusing all his attention on that one point of contact.

Wild thoughts ran through Blair's mind, descriptions, word patterns, things like primal and elemental and fuck, he's touching me, he's touching me. He gave himself over to the cravings of his nervous system, to the electrical storm just beneath his skin everywhere Jim's fingers were leaving their imprint.

"So tell me, Chief. How did you mean it?" The words were spoken against his skin, and Jim's unbelievably soft lips were against his forehead, making it difficult to remember what he'd actually meant, when he didn't want to be talking at all.

"Ownership," Blair answered, and his body quivered with the implications.

"C'mon, genius. It means, 'absolute ownership'." Those dark blue eyes were gleaming wickedly. "Is that what you wanted all along? To be owned by me? Do you have any idea what that would mean?"

Was it what he wanted? Hell yes. It was all he wanted, it was the one thing he would never be able to get enough of. Sensory assault, he thought, wondering how Jim could bear it, if what he felt was remotely so beautiful.

"I have a feeling you're about to show me." I hope.

"Well then, your feeling would be right," Jim said, hand flat on Sandburg's chest, pushing, pinning him in place. Jim's eyes narrowed, long enough for Blair to think about running. The urge to flee was overpowered in a millisecond by a more persuasive need, and a tiny voice in his mind whispered to him. Stay and see.

Before he had time to debate the wisdom of it with himself, Jim was on him, almost as close as his own skin, and he was speaking again, the sound of his voice vibrating all the way down Blair's spine.

"Is this what you think of me?" he said softly. "Some mindless animal, looking to own you?"

"No," Blair hissed, "it's what I feel. C'mon, Jim, I know you better than anyone alive. Now we're through playing like it's not gonna happen, so just do it, all right?" His body was through waiting; it had begun to surge forward, striving for even closer contact with the heat source directly ahead. "Isn't that what you want?"

Jim's body was answering that call. His hips swayed forward and he pushed his groin against the center of Blair's body, sinuously rubbing in an addictive rhythm. "Maybe it is what I want," he answered quietly, and the admission sent Blair's mind reeling into numb submission to the truth. "So you should be a little more careful," Jim went on, lips brushing against Blair's ear as he spoke, "because you might get what you wish for."

Blair shivered and reached up to gather two fistfuls of Jim's shirt. "What is it going to take?" He turned his face up, eyes narrowed, skin flushed with the possibility of danger as he tested the new limits, probing them with just the hint of a dare.

Jim's hands closed over his fists and pried them off the shirt, pushing his wrists up, asking no permission. He pinned Blair's hands to the wall, holding him in place easily with brute force. "You don't want to do that, Chief. Because I'm not exactly in control right now." Raw and on the edge, and so close to falling into what they both wanted...and yet, he was still holding back, and Blair could feel the need in him, thrumming like some sort of magical song.

"Good," Blair said, voice rising. "I'm sick of you always being so fucking repressed. Be out of control. Do it." The challenge was clear, and every hair on Blair's body stood on end. "Let it go, man. Just--"

His next words were swallowed, devoured by the lips covering his own, by the kiss he'd known was coming but could never have prepared for. He exhaled a long breath of satisfaction between Jim's parted lips as Jim moved forward, pressing the length of his body to Blair's, deepening that hungry kiss with growing urgency. That mouth took all he offered and sought more, exploring him with a wanton need that rippled through him, pulsing in his cock, beating with the erratic pattern of a heart out of control.

A hand ripped at the buttons on the fly of his jeans, tugging his shirttail out and delving across his stomach, digging for one thing only. And as it closed over him, and Jim's tongue flickered over his, the world exploded into bliss and perfection, and rational thought deserted Blair completely.

**********

His tongue touched Sandburg's, and Jim became lost in the rough feel of it, the texture of it against his own as he searched deeper inside that space that was so rarely silent. The sound of tearing cloth penetrated his lust-hazed brain, and he tore himself away from Blair's mouth.

"Sandburg," he growled hoarsely, as thumbs raked across his nipples, "you ripped my shirt."

"In the way," Blair panted, struggling to catch his breath in that moment's respite before returning to his exploration of Jim's mouth.

The edges of the tattered fabric slid sensuously over Jim's arms as he shrugged off the useless shirt, making him harder than he'd ever been in his entire life. Blair reached to pull the garment away, but Jim needed those hands to be busy in other places. He shoved his lover hard against the wall, giving him access to his body even as he yanked Blair's shirt free in turn. The cloth parted like tissue, releasing bare skin to his fingertips, revealing the heat and the smell and the soft hair of Blair Sandburg. Speech fled, leaving him with nothing but moans coming from somewhere deep in his throat. And somehow, Blair had figured out what he needed and was giving it to him, with little circles across the tip of his cock.

A deep growl made its way up from his throat, and he gave the sound up to the air, let Sandburg hear him the way he was hearing Sandburg. Only it was different, because he heard everything - from the soft sounds of suckling as that lush mouth lapped at his right nipple, to the surge of blood through his partner's body, to his strong heartbeat, sending that blood into the engorged shaft nestled against his palm.

"Jim," Blair gasped, and it made him crazy, sent him back up to that lush mouth, looking to capture the wonder behind the way his name sounded on those lips. He tasted it, mixed with the sweet-sharp flavor of blood, and he lapped at the bite he'd inflicted as Blair's body arched against him, inviting him, demanding everything he'd been holding back.

He unleashed his strength, wrapping his arms around his partner and fitting their bodies together completely, joining them at mouth and belly and cock.

Instinct pulled him, drove him down, and he yanked Sandburg's jeans lower as he traveled south, as he settled on his knees and opened his mouth to worship the man who had not-so-suddenly become the center of everything.

"No, no," pleaded a voice from a tunnel somewhere above him, and he rubbed his face against Blair's cock, needing the feel and the scent of it. "No, Jim, wait. Not here."

"Too late," Jim said, licking just a little, smiling as Blair swore a string of reverently filthy words.

Blair reached down and hauled him up with surprising strength, shoving him backwards, and a wrestling match ensued as they tumbled to the floor. Tangled together, arms and legs twined, they grappled for position as Blair tried to drag him toward the bedroom. Jim's focus narrowed to the beads of sweat dotting Sandburg's upper lip, the smell of arousal filling the air around them. Sandburg rolled sideways, tugging Jim along, and they crashed into a table. Jim swatted aside the lamp as it fell, breaking it in midair, shielding Blair from the shards of ceramic and glass as they rained down.

"Enough!" he snarled, dragging Blair into a half-sitting position against the couch, taking a dark delight in the wide blue eyes that signaled Blair's capitulation. His hands closed on Sandburg's hips as he crawled down the slender body, and found his target.

"Jesus!" Blair's body bucked up wantonly as Jim drew his tongue sensuously down the length of that tempting cock. He slammed Blair's hips back into place with an unyielding grip, holding him steady. Jim took the twitching, swollen shaft into his mouth, tasting it, knowing what Blair wanted as surely as if he'd been giving detailed instructions all along. It was so clear, so perfect, and he moved slowly, knowing there wasn't much time, waiting expectantly for the taste of Blair's completion.

Something about the vulnerability of the man beneath him, the rapturous expression on his face, the offer given and accepted and displayed by Blair's trust and need, struck hard at Jim's core. The power of giving his lover pleasure sparked through him as he watched Blair's lashes flutter against his cheeks, saw Blair's throat working to give voice to formless words. It was so easy to see, after so long; he would do anything it took to claim his guide. Anything.

Sandburg cried out, hands clawing at the floor, and came with a shuddering moan, pulsing into the wet, ready depths of Jim's mouth. Jim swallowed and gentled his hands, aware there would be bruises on Blair's body tomorrow, curiously satisfied by the thought.

With regret, he released the sated organ and spread his fingers across Blair's thighs. He looked up into passion-dazed eyes, communicating with his gaze, and the truth shimmered between them. To own is to be owned...and the moment he had taken possession of his lover, he had given up everything of himself in return.

Jim pulled himself to his hands and knees and slowly ascended Blair's body, hovering over him, nestling his face in the curve of Blair's neck. He was burning with want, and he added the salt taste of skin and sweat to the experience already catalogued by his tongue, marking a path of kisses and following it by bites, not gentle, but harsh enough to cause shuddering gasps.

"Now, Jim." Not a request, but a command, spoken low. Shaking hands traced Jim's spine, sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans and pushing.

"Hmmm?" Jim nuzzled the hollow of Blair's throat, licking away droplets of salty sweat there, absorbed in the fluctuations of the heartbeat underneath his lips.

"I need you inside me now."

He raised his head, kissing the curved line of Blair's jaw, the corner of his mouth. "Be sure, Blair. No going back from here," he whispered, reveling in the sharp intake of breath his words produced.

"I'm sure." Soft, and urgent.

"We need -"

"Table, by my bed. Same drawer as the key was in." Blair's low chuckle acknowledged the irony. He lifted his legs and skimmed off his jeans, tossing them aside. Jim reached down a hand and helped him to his feet, clasping and touching as their mouths fused again. Jim's last inhibition melted under the direct contact of Blair's nude body, warm and compliant and ready to be taken.

They drifted into the bedroom, fell headlong into the unmade mess of sheets and comforters, and Jim pitched blankets to the floor as they settled into the center of the bed. Even as he shifted to the side to retrieve the small tube from the bedside table, Blair's determined hands stripped away the remaining clothes between them. Lips descended over a nipple, sucking hard, tongue performing a talented maneuver, and Jim grunted his approval, threading his hands through Blair's hair, head thrown back, body taut.

Blair backed away, eyes shining, and was turned on his stomach within moments by Jim's uncompromising strength. "Yes," he said, in a tone layered with subtle shadings of ecstasy. His movements became frenzied as he was pinned by Jim's larger body, and he was touched, prepared; Jim stroked deep into him with unerring precision, finding and brushing against the spot of pleasure in the tight passage, and Blair gave a choked cry, thrusting back onto Jim's fingers.

Too much...Jim shook off the feeling of overwhelmed pleasure with effort, pouring his concentration into touching the man who trembled beneath him, body begging for his entry. Jim's hands were everywhere, caressing the long muscles of the back that flexed and stretched with such grace. His release was too near, and watching Blair's body brought him too close; he closed his eyes, willing away his climax.

"Jim," Blair moaned, lowering his head onto his crossed arms. "Do it, please," he hissed, breath coming in shallow pants, muscles reduced to quivering impulses by Jim's relentless touch inside him.

Jim enclosed his waist with one long arm and settled a hand on his ass, steadying him, positioning himself at the small opening, pressing and invading slowly. Blair's low, guttural moan inflamed him, and he eased in, fingers curling around Blair's hipbones. Blair writhed beneath him, but he stopped the motion with a harsh gasp. "No," he said, and Blair stopped immediately, becoming still beneath Jim.

Sudden understanding washed over Jim. Blair was his. Irrevocably, totally his. No more barriers to break, no more doubt or need to question. Nothing but the trust between them, the trust that enabled him to take what he needed because it was given freely...

Jim stroked in deeply, hips moving in a small oval, joining him even more fully to Blair. His hand moved over Blair's shaft, animated and talented. The moment couldn't last; he was too far into a place of pure ecstasy, surrounded by heat and the demand of something he should have acknowledged long before.

He sank his teeth into the joint of shoulder and neck, and came with a long, low growl, shaking with the effort of not biting harder, of not becoming so lost in the pleasure that he would be blind to Sandburg's needs. The hand on Blair's cock stilled, pressed gently against his hip, flexing there, and they leaned together for a moment before Jim lowered them both to the bed, spent and exhausted.

Jim raised his head and kissed the bite he'd created, sending a tremor through Blair's body and a sympathetic shiver through his own.

"Damn it," Blair mumbled. "I didn't want our first time to be half in the living room and half on my dirty sheets."

"Hey, Chief," Jim protested mildly, running his hands over the chilled skin of Blair's back, "you take your opportunities where you can, right?"

"Hmmm." Blair sighed, and kissed his jaw. "I wonder if it'll be like that every time? It was so..." He hesitated, and Jim chuckled.

"Whatever it was, if it makes you search for a word, it's pretty powerful."

"We have a lot to talk about," Blair began, recovering a little of his usual need to dissect and discuss, but Jim cut him off, capturing his lower lip and pulling it gently into a kiss.

"Later. This is my domain, remember? And right now, I want some quiet. And a shower."

"And then we talk about it," Blair said firmly.

Jim grinned. It was his domain, all right, but there was no question who had dominion.

End

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