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SOMETHING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO HEAVEN

By LilyK

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It's storming in Cascade. No, not the usual unrelenting rain, but storming, big time. No power. No telephones. No cells. No Sandburg. I'm really starting to panic. I've been home for a couple of hours, fiddling around, cooking barbecued chicken and baked potatoes with green bean casserole, when I finally glance at the time. Damn, 7:30 p.m. Sandburg should have been home an hour ago. What am I thinking? Or not thinking. I had turned down my hearing because the storm outside had started to give me a bit of a headache and focused on the music playing softly through my portable CD headphones. Phil Collins. My kind of music. I can't quite figure out how the kids today can be interested in that noise they call music. One of the guys at the station had flashed a copy of Rolling Stone in front of me just this week. What the hell was a Slipknot anyway? I always thought it was something you used to tie a rope with. Oh, well.

I click off the music, pull off the headphones, and turn down the oven to warm after slipping the meat, veggies and bread in, glad that we have a gas stove. At least the gas is working. I douse the candles that I've lit around the loft and light the battery-operated camping lamp on the kitchen counter before I grab my coat from the hook, then I finally hear him. I focus in on Sandburg's heartbeat. He's trudging slowly up the second floor stairs. I follow the sounds of my Guide's breathing and pulse as he makes his way home. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth and I turn back into the kitchen, grabbing the table settings and getting things ready for dinner. I light the candles on the table again. I'm starving. I'll bet Sandburg is too. The guy loves to eat. I chuckle to myself. But he never puts on weight. He still looks as good as he did when I first met him, over five years ago.

I stop my careful arranging of the knives and forks. Whoa, Ellison, what did you just say? Sandburg looks as good as he did five years ago? Well, for a guy, I add. I think about that for a few seconds and nod. Yes, for a guy. Guys. Don't do guys. Never have. Never will. I like women, warm and fragrant. Round and soft. Not some hairy Sandburg, scratchy and…

Sandburg? Where the hell is he? I focus and realize that there is an incessant tapping at the door. Damn! What was I thinking about? My mind is wandering everywhere tonight. I stride to the door, flip the lock and fling it open. I look at my partner/roomie/best buddy and I start to chuckle. Before me stands one wet dripping package. Then I see his blue lips and shaking body.

"What the fuck are you standing there for, you idiot?" I yell more harshly than I need to.

Sandburg's lips shake as he tries to talk. I look down and see the puddle around his feet growing as the water drips, no, runs from his clothes to the floor. It drips from the ends of his hair, the end of his nose, the end of his chin, the ends of his fingers. Oh, crap.

"S--ss--orry, J--jimm." Sandburg chatters. "D-d-didn't w-want to-o get the flo-o-r mes--sssy."

"Oh, for God's sake, Chief," I grouse as I grab his soaking wet arm and pull him into the loft. Before he can say another word, I'm hustling him through the kitchen and straight into the bathroom, grabbing the lamp so we can see.

Blair stands shaking from head to foot while I strip off his coat and set to work on the buttons of the fifteen flannel shirts he's wearing. He starts to protest weakly, but I slap his trembling fingers.

"Sandburg, let me do this. You're freezing and shaking. You couldn't unbutton these if I paid you." I grumble at my friend. His teeth chatter and his head bobs. I'm not sure if he's nodding yes or just shaking too badly to control it. I grab a towel and throw it over his head, trying to blot up some of the ice cold water before I take his last shirt off. The thought of that frigid water dripping down my own back makes me shiver compassionately for him

I finally reach the last t-shirt and gather it in my hands, bunching it and lifting it over his wet head. It makes me glad that I have short hair. So much easier to take care of and it holds a hell of a lot less water. I grab another dry towel, throw it around his shoulders and rub vigorously up and down his arms. I look at Sandburg's face and see that the lips are now just light blue instead of dark blue like they were before. He closes his eyes as some faint traces of warmth reenter his body.

"Damn it, Chief, was it that piece of crap car of yours?" I ask between clenched teeth.

He nods. "Y-yeah. Alterna-nator. Over on Ramp-part."

"Hell, Blair, that's three miles away. You walked three miles in this storm?"

Blair manages a shrug and says, "No phones. No bus-ses. No cabs."

"Right," I mumble, fumbling with the button of his sodden jeans. The metal seems to have frozen itself together. I tug and pull until the button finally relinquishes its hold and I slide the zipper open. The sound of the zipper makes me flinch and I look up quickly, finding that Blair's eyes are drilled into mine. He tries to back up a step, making a small sound in his throat. I stop, and my fingers hold onto the waistband of his unzipped jeans.

"Sandburg, take it easy. You don't have anything I haven't seen before. Believe me." I chuckle to myself, but stop suddenly, looking into my buddy's eyes. He looks frightened, amused, upset, and interested, all at the same time. And he looks cold, very cold. "Come on, Chief, take it easy. It's okay." My Sentinel voice seems to register because he smiles tentatively and stands still. Well, as still as a freezing body can stand. And Sandburg thinks he's the only one with a calming voice.

I peel the wet denim from Blair's body. He's wearing boxers that certainly are not serving the purpose for which they were intended, and I can see the outline of his dick as the wet material clings to every millimeter. I'm staring at Blair's dick. I shake my head and take a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm staring at Blair's dick, for heaven's sake! Blair stands as if he were carved in stone. I tune into my Guide's body quickly. I sense the rise in his heartbeat. I hear his pulse quicken. When I look into his face, I see that his eyes are screwed shut tightly and I notice that his hands are clenched. Like he's struggling, and struggling hard. For what? For control? To yell at me not to touch him? To yell at me to touch him?

Just before I remove the final vestiges of Blair's clothing and my sanity, I turn on the shower. I run my hand under the spray several times until I'm satisfied with the temperature. Hot enough for comfort, but not hot enough to burn. There's plenty of hot water for a change. I'm glad again for gas instead of electricity. I glance back at Sandburg and rake my eyes over his body. I bite my lip hard, hard enough for pain. Stop that, you weirdo! Oh, God, then I feel it. Shit. I turn my back to Blair, quickly readjusting my dick. What the fuck is this? I breathe in and out quickly. The water is ready. The Guide is a pillar of stone, except for his rapid breathing and his racing heart, and his…oh, shit, his hard-on.

Quickly, I tug the boxers off, throw them to the floor, and turn my back to give him some privacy. "Hey, Sandburg, go ahead and take a nice hard, ah, hot shower. And, I'll, ah, I'll get dinner off. I mean on. You need a good meal in your body…" I stammer over the last word. Oh, crap. His body. "It will warm you right up." I stumble from the too-small, too-steamy bathroom into the relative safety of the kitchen. When I get to the kitchen, I lean against the counter on both hands, breathing heavily, my dick aching. What the fuck have I done? Opened up the proverbial Pandora's box? No, Blair's a guy. He doesn't have one. Good God, Ellison, shut up!

I listen to myself for a change and shut up. As I prepare plates of food, I focus on Blair, hearing him under the hot water, hearing the murmurs of contentment, hearing him sigh as his body starts to warm up and return to normal. I send my senses through the damned walls and focus fully on my Guide. He smells wonderful; he sounds heavenly. Through walls. Damn, I can't taste him. I can't touch him. I close my eyes; he looks fantastic, I just know it, just like I know he tastes delicious and feels warm and soft and hairy and hard. Oh, God. Oh, shit.

"Jim?"

I start as the warm (warm, finally!) hand touches my face. I blink and shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I focus and find myself grinning stupidly into the face of my best friend.

"Oh, hey, Sandburg. Sorry." I give him a casual smile. At least I hope it's a casual smile. I do a quick check of my body and see that my dick has settled back down, for now. "I was zoned for a sec. I'm okay. You hungry?"

Blair's nose twitches appreciatively. "Hell, yes. I'm starved. It smells great."

I nod and smile again. "Sit down. Food's hot."

Blair moves towards me. I step back. Blair stops and raises a hand. "Jim, I just want to help. I'm not going to touch you."

I grimace. Crap. Now I've made him uncomfortable. "No, Blair, it's okay. Really," I remark quickly. "You just sit down and let me put the food on the table. Take it easy for a while. I've made coffee. You want a cup?"

Blair looks at me out of the corner of those ocean blue eyes. God, I love those eyes. I could swim in them forever. He shrugs and nods. "Okay, man. Thanks. Coffee would be good." He turns and after setting on the counter, the lamp that he has so thoughtfully brought with him, he sits at the dining table.

I notice that he's wearing my old ratty gray bathrobe. I hadn't realized that he had fished it out of the trash a couple of weeks ago when I tossed it out, replacing it with a snowy white terry one from the new men's store at the mall. I shake my head at myself. Damn, Ellison, you never even noticed that, one, Blair doesn't even own his own robe, and two, that he's been wearing yours for weeks now. Maybe he's just being frugal. Maybe he's just recycling. Maybe he wants to be in something of yours. I groan out loud. Blair hears because I see him swivel his head and look at me questioningly.

I smile and put the full plates on the table. Blair grins up at me. "Oh, Jim, this looks great. Thanks." I make a quick trip back to the kitchen for the coffee. Blair is sitting, looking at the food, but not eating.

"You're not eating, Chief." I watch Blair as he grins at me.

"Man, don't you know anything about manners? I'm waiting you for to sit, you dummy. The candles makes me feel kind of formal, you know?" Blair's smile makes me hot. Honest to God, I have a fucking hot flash. Am I old enough for hot flashes? Do men have them? I sure as hell do.

I manage to pick up my fork and we eat. The food is good. At least Blair keeps telling me how good it is. I just eat the whole damned plate, never tasting a thing. I watch him constantly. That must be the reason why I drop at least three forkfuls of food on my shirt and into my lap. Blair ignores my slovenly eating habits and clears his plate like a starving man. I am a starving man. I'm starving for my Guide. I want to gobble him up right here and now.

Whoa! What the hell was that, Ellison? Good God, I'm losing it. Totally losing it. Get the padded room ready. I jump when Blair's hand touches my shoulder.

"Jim? For God's sakes, what the hell is wrong with you tonight? Are you finished? I'll do the dishes."

I nod stupidly. I look at my clean plate. When did I eat? I am fucking insane. I sit quietly at the table, hands folded in front of me, fingers locked together. I never move the entire time Blair clears the table, runs the dishwater, washes, dries and puts away the dishes, pans, silverware and cups, every damned one of them. I'm still sitting like a statue when Blair comes back to the table and pulls a chair around to sit with his knees just inches away from my thigh.

Blair's hand touches my arm. "Jim, please tell me what's wrong. I'm getting scared. Did I do something wrong?"

I shake my head slowly, meeting his eyes. They are so blue I feel myself sinking. Oh, shit. I force myself to focus on his words, not on his body. "Blair, I'm really sorry. I'm not sure what's wrong. It's just that…" I stop. I can't say it. Can't say what? Hell, I don't even know what to say. I don't know what to do. I don't know a hell of a lot of anything these days.

Blair runs a hand through his still damp hair. "Okay, Jim. Let me think. Maybe it's the storm. Your Sentinel instinct to protect the tribe might have been alerted. You can't go out and patrol, so maybe you're concentrating too much."

Blair stops and I think how right he is. I am concentrating too much and it's not on the tribe. It's on him. On Blair. My Blair. Wait. Is he mine? What the fuck have I ever done to deserve him? Even as a friend, I suck big time. I've abandoned him, I've betrayed him, I've treated him like crap. Do I even deserve to ask him to be my friend, let alone be my lover?

I suck in my breath sharply. My lover? I want Blair for my lover? I change that to a statement. I want Blair for my lover. My life partner. My everything. Blair hears my breathing and sees my body tense. He stands quickly, knocking the chair over.

"Jim! Are you in pain?" He puts his hands on either side of my face and forces my stiff neck to turn towards him. He leans over and our faces are inches apart. "Jim, damn it, answer me. Come on, Jim, focus. Listen to the sound of my voice."

I listen to my Guide. I listen to his voice. I close my eyes and it flows over me and through me. It calms my senses and excites my body. I feel another hot flash that radiates from his warm strong hands pressed against my face and ends up in my groin. Before I can stop myself, I moan softly through dry lips. And before I can stop myself, I feel myself rubbing my cheek against his hand. Rubbing the warm hand. Closing my eyes and smelling. I turn my head and without even thinking about it, I reach up with my hand and take Blair's wrist. I pull my face away from his hand and press my mouth against his palm, kissing first and then licking with just the tip of my tongue. My eyes are still closed when I lick each finger in turn until I finally suck his thumb into my mouth.

Everything is focused on my mouth. I suck a finger. My dick is hard and pulsing. I hear a soft, soft voice calling "Jim!". I force my eyes open and look at Sandburg. His face is covered with a light sheen of sweat. There are beads of it on his upper lip. He's trembling and the robe he's wearing has fallen open. I suck each finger in turn, slow and hard and long. I reach for his other hand after I have totally slobbered the first one and ravage the second. As I scan his body, I hear his heart thumping wildly. I hear his blood burning in his veins. I see his excitement poking out through the opened robe. I taste his skin, reveling in the Blair flavor. The thought flashes through my muddled mind, if his fingers taste this good, how wonderful will the rest of him taste? I smell his arousal, the musky, hot pheromones pouring from his body.

I release his fingers and slide an arm behind his body, resting it lightly on his waist. I'm issuing the invitation. He has to RSVP. I watch as Blair sucks in his breath and freezes for a long heartbeat. Then suddenly, he's in my lap. My arms hold him close and his hands are on my face. He looks into my eyes, and whispers, "Oh, Jim!" Only Blair could say my name so sweetly. Then his lips are on mine. Yes! His lips are on mine! Soft, warm, wet. Wet tasty Blair. His tongue laps across my dry lips. I extend another invitation, which he readily accepts. I open my mouth and his luscious tongue enters, tentatively, then more boldly as my body responds and the moans and whimpers in my throat tumble out one on top of the other. I couldn't stop the noises even if I wanted to. And I don't want to stop anything. I want everything to go on and on and on.

When my lover (my lover, there, I've said it!) finally lets me breathe, I follow willingly as he tugs my arms to stand. I follow willingly as he tugs my arms to walk up those stairs. I follow willingly as he tugs me towards the bed and tosses back the comforter and blankets. I follow willingly as he strips me slowly. My eyes never leave his face, just as his are locked on mine. Have I said anything? I have no idea. Has he? Only my name, over and over, like singing or praying. I can't speak. I can't think. Then I do something I've never done before. When he guides me to the sheets, I give myself over to my lover fully and completely. No woman has ever had me the way I'm letting my Guide, my Blair, have me. I've never experienced this before. Never. And I don't just mean letting someone screw my ass. I mean letting someone into my heart.

Blair's mouth is all over me. His hands touch everything. His fingers explore everywhere. I am shaking, sweating, crying. Yes, Jim Ellison, tough asshole, is crying. Blair kisses away the tears then he kisses away my inhibitions. His fingers and tongue make me scream over and over. The orgasm that rips through me makes me yell to the heavens. Nothing ever prepared me for this. I can hardly breathe. I certainly can't think. I let my body speak for me. My dick pulses hot semen in geysers everywhere. Blair crows with delight, kissing and licking away the traces. My beautiful Blair.

I feel Blair direct me to my stomach. I pant furiously and look over my shoulder at him as he sits back on his heels, slathering lube on his dick. His hard-on is beautiful, just like he is. I can hardly focus, but I find myself rising to my elbows with my ass sticking in the air, begging. I'm begging! Oh, shit, then he's pushing in and then he's moving. My mind screams with delight. My body shivers with delight. My voice shouts as he hits my prostate and my dick jumps and, for the first time in my life, I experience having not one overwhelming orgasm but two in the same night.

My body freezes while I come in spurts once again. My muscles squeeze Blair's dick and I press back so that he can bury himself in my hot body. Blair's fingers dig into my sides as he howls through his orgasm. I focus what little senses I can muster on the erection in my body, relishing the feel of the come, fiery and wet, coating my insides. I can feel each pulse of the hot semen over and over. When I can no longer hold myself up, I finally collapse, taking Blair with me. He lies like a blanket over my back. I shake and tremble just as Blair had shaken and trembled earlier when he was freezing cold. I am not freezing cold, I am so hot and happy and sated and loved that I feel my eyes start to tear up again. I am some tough guy.

Blair gently removes his softened dick from my body as tremors still rack through me, and he slides up beside me. I am like a beached whale. I can't move. My limbs are useless. Blair laughs and lifts my arm, melting close to my side. He tugs my head onto his shoulder and wipes the wetness from my face. I muster enough strength to open my eyes and lift my head to gaze into the face of my life.

I look at my mate with as much love as I can possibly convey. I smile from ear to ear as my eyes drink in the sight before me. He is one wet drippy package and he is absolutely breathtaking. "Oh, God, Blair. I love you," I blurt out.

Blair laughs that deep Sandburg laugh that shakes the bed. "Geez, Jim. I love you." He hugs me tightly and lightly slaps my bare ass. I shiver at the sensation and grin like an idiot as the come dribbles between my cheeks. It's warm and wet and sticky. I've been marked by the Guide. I chuckle and I wrap an arm around my lover and settle my head back on his shoulder. I kiss the warm skin under my lips and fall asleep.

The End