Plain ol' Vanilla

August 9, 1999

Rainier University's long-haired, Anthropology Teaching Fellow trudged wearily up the stairs that led home. The last test was done. The grades were in. Finally, the semester was over! Now he was free to concentrate the bulk of his energies on his research (and his favorite test subject!) and work on his thesis until the beginning of the new term. It hadn't come a moment too soon. He was exhausted, and just a little weary of the thought of school.

He dragged into the loft, locked the door behind him, and dropped his keys in the basket.

"Hey, Teach." Jim smiled at him from the couch where he had taken possession of the remote control to channel surf. "Hard day?"

"The worst." Blair released his grip on the strap of his bookbag, allowing it to crumble in a corner, tired enough to risk ignoring the disapproving look Jim gave him.

Ellison decided to let the infraction of the house rules slide this once, since, obviously due to fatigue, his Guide was in an irrational state of mind. "But it's over?"

"All but the cleanup: disgruntled students complaining about their grades, angry parents upset about their grades, me fighting to justify that I've given what they've earned and keep from changing the grades. You know, the usual. After that, it's over. Until next time. . ." He wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to take out a beer. Unscrewing the top, he took a long, slow swallow, while thinking, 'Is it my turn to cook? Please, say it isn't my turn! If it is, the fare will likely be delivery pizza, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,' which was the best he could do with the energy he had left or the amount of money in his pocket. So, now, how to approach the subject when you didn't want to cook and didn't have the cash for takeout. He opted for coy. "What's for dinner?"

"Polio Arrosto al Limone." Jim paused, clicking the remote several times. "Oh, with black pepper linguine aglio-olio," he answered distractedly, now preoccupied with the images on the screen. "Garlic basil bread with Romano Parmesan. The fancy Italian salad you like with that strange tasting wallpaper paste dressing that gives you dragon breath all night."

"Grigliata di verdure?"

Jim nodded, not taking his eyes from the set.

Both Blair's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You made Grigliata?"

Jim glanced up at him and laughed. "Would you eat it if I said yes?"

Blair made a small face, then said, carefully. "Of course I would."

"But only 'cause you love me, right?"

He smiled brightly. "I do love you."

"Well, that's a good thing. Isn't it?"

"That's a very good thing." Blair took another long swallow from his beer as he slid into the chair across from Jim. He tried to sound nonchalant when he asked again, "So. . .this is a recipe you got from. . .?"

Just then someone knocked on the door. Jim put the remote aside and went to answer it, returning with a large bag, the logo of a neighborhood Italian restaurant emblazoned on its side.

"Had you goin' there for a minute, didn't I?" he said, and smiled as he carried the bag into the kitchen, placing it on the table.

Blair finished his beer, chucking the empty bottle into the recycle bin. "No. I can't even begin to picture you attempting polio arrosto of any kind."

"Next time I'll just say something simple."

Blair opened the cabinet and took out dishes, then opened the cutlery drawer. "Burgers and fries, maybe; Hoagies, fish and chips, hot dogs and beans, steak and potatoes, scrambled eggs, that's more your speed," he said as he finished setting the table.

"So, what you're saying," Jim took Blair's plate and dished pasta into it, "is I'm your basic meat 'n potatoes man?" He handed it back to him and took the empty one to fill it, and set it down in front of his place.

Blair smiled at the indignant tone. He put his plate down, turned and wrapped both arms around Jim's waist, resting his head on his Sentinel's chest, squeezing hard. "As vanilla as they come," he said, then braced for the outburst. He didn't have to wait long.

Jim grabbed both his arms and halfheartedly tried to disengage his Guide. "Vanilla? What's that supposed to mean?"

Blair laughed softly while fighting to keep his grip. He straightened his expression before looking up into Jim's face. "That's right, vanilla, but you're my vanilla. And I wouldn't have it any other way." Then he raised on his toes and took Jim's mouth quickly before he could verbalize his response.

Ellison resisted for all of six seconds, debating the insult. Well, it couldn't be much cause for concern, the way his lover was kissing him. Still, he felt vaguely offended. As if his manhood was in question. Then it didn't matter. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, his lips opened wider and his tongue kidnapped Blair's and plundered his mouth mercilessly until he felt his Guide's knees begin to give.

The Sentinel pulled back to look triumphantly down into his lover's flushed face. 'So much for that question,' he thought smugly. "Maybe we should eat before the food gets cold?"

"Food?" Blair's pupils looked dilated and his eyes unfocused. "Cold?"

Jim smiled down at his soft, fuzzy, pliant Guide. There was still something to be said for plain ol' vanilla, after all. "Yeah, dinner, remember?" He lovingly placed his lover in his chair and began serving up the rest of the meal.

They ate in companionable silence, finishing quickly since they were both hungry and tired.

It didn't take them long to clear the dishes away, loading them in the tiny dishwasher, wiping off the table and countertop.

"You want dessert, Chief?" Jim asked, switching the machine on.

"No, I'm gonna take a shower, then I think I'll read a little before I go to bed." He stopped at the stairs. "Care to join me under a warm spray, Mr. Detective, sir?" Blair asked in his most enticing voice. "I'll let you wash my back." He added a sly smile.

Jim was in the refrigerator putting the leftovers away and didn't even look up. "No, not this time, babe. I'm gonna eat some ice cream, then watch a little T.V., there's a Jags' game on."

"Oh." Blair said, trying not to let the disappointment manifest itself in the tone of his voice. "OK, then." He made his way to the bathroom, all the while fighting the perverse urge to sabotage the hot water tank so that the next time his Sentinel used it, he'd received a douse of icy water.

Quickly stripping, he tossed his clothes in the hamper and stepped under the hot, steamy spray. Letting the soothing warmth wash over him. It wasn't like Jim to turn down the invitation to share a shower. Maybe it was his revenge for that dig about being vanilla. Well, he hadn't meant it as an insult. . .exactly. Although, most times Jim's tastes did run a little 'Missionary'. Not that he wanted 'swinging from the ceiling' kind of sex all the time, just a little wild, off the-beaten-path (so to speak) encounter would be nice for a change.

Blair emerged a short time later, clean, dry, clad in a ratty old terry-cloth robe that barely reached his knees, and his favorite pair of plaid boxers. He peeked into the living room. The TV was off, but Jim wasn't on the couch. Turning, he found him sitting at the kitchen table, chin on his chest, half-eaten bowl of melted ice cream on the table in front of him, fast asleep.

Sandburg smiled to himself as he walked over and touched him on the shoulder. "Jim, Big Guy, it's time to go to bed."

"Hmm?"

"Jim, you fell asleep at the table."

He opened his eyes a slit. "Fell asleep?"

"Yeah, you did. Come on."

"Didn't finish. . ." Jim said groggily.

"It's okay, babe. It's all melted, anyway." He tried to haul Jim out the chair, but found himself gripped around the waist instead. "Jim!" He squeaked in protest as he felt himself turned then shoved between his Sentinel's open knees, his butt resting against the edge of the table. Jim trailed light kisses across his jawline and down the exposed column of his neck as he eased the robe from his shoulders and let it fall.

"Can't let it go to waste," Jim said as he reached for the bowl of soupy ice cream, his mouth quickly returning to the task at hand.

"What?!" Blair's hands pushed at his lover's chest as he rose to his feet, closing the space between them until he had Blair bent backwards, lying prone on the tabletop. "What're you doing?"

"Ate all my dinner." Jim took the spoon and dribbled a few drops on the fullness of Blair's bottom lip. "Finishing my dessert," he said just before he swooped in to catch the trailing sweet with the tip of his tongue.

"Jim!"

The Sentinel took advantage of Blair's open mouth to seal his protests with his own lips and let him sample the trace of ice cream on his tongue. Slanting his head to the side, he threaded the fingers of his free hand in the tangle of Blair's curls to hold him steady, and increased the pressure.

'Damn!' Blair thought weakly, 'He has the best kisses! Who would've thought this no-nonsense, hard-edged cop could steal my senses away so completely with just a touch of his lips.' Then Blair felt cool moisture on his nipple a moment before the moist heat of Jim's mouth closed over the tiny nub.

"Sssst!" Blair's breath hissed through his teeth as his body reacted from the impetus his nipples were receiving. Jim knew how receptive they were to any form of stimuli, and he took full advantage now, alternating between one and the other until they were pebble-hard and Blair's body was stretched taut as a bow string.

Blair dimly felt his lover's hands at his waist and raised his hips blindly so he could slide his boxers away from his body. They landed in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Ellison moved on to fill the shallow well of Blair's navel with the sweetened cream, causing Blair to laugh in surprised delight. That laugh was cut short as the Sentinel curled his tongue into a shovel to slowly, sensuously dig deep to scoop the liquid out.

"Ahhh, Jim!" Blair's stomach muscles quivered with excitement. Jim's excavation caused a flashpoint of heat to telegraph its way along his nerve endings, threatening to sear them into uselessness.

Jim raised his head to regard his captive with heavily-hooded eyes. "You like that?"

Blair could only nod weakly and moan, incapable of forming coherent thought, as Jim dribbled more sweetness across his flesh, lapping it away with broad, deliberate strokes of his tongue. That hot, rough tongue that seemed to scorch him as it heightened the sensitivity of his flesh.

"Of all the dishes we have to eat off, I think I like you best," Jim whispered hotly against the smooth, warm flesh of Blair's groin, spiraling his tongue around the delicate swirl of the thick mat of hair growing there.

Next, he used the spoon to drip a thick coating over the engorged head of Blair's cock. He laved it away with the flat of his tongue, leaving a wet, sticky trail in its wake that Blair could almost see steam rising from. He moaned, both hands clenching fistfuls of the robe beneath him as Jim's mouth licked and nipped its way up and around the firm, pulsing flesh, then down its length again and over his scrotum sack, sucking each testicle into his mouth, one at a time, rolling them slowing over his tongue.

"Aww, babe, enough, please! You can't eat me alive! Leave some. . ."

Jim stopped long enough for his heart to beat twice and his lungs to fill once with air, then he turned Blair over, pushing his legs until he was kneeling on the top of the table, his ass uplifted towards Jim's face.

Blair felt a trickle of ice cream across his cheeks followed fast by the heat of Jim's tongue. Broad, sweeping, lapping strokes teased along the crack of ass over the solid flesh of his rear.

Suddenly, Jim's picked up the spoon again and upended it. The Sentinel watched the trickle run its course from the dimple in the small of Blair's back down through the valley between the luscious, round fullness of each cheek. Ellison pulled the mounds further apart, squeezing them briefly while waiting, watching until the milky-white fluid approached its goal. As it reached the pink, puckered opening, he pounced. Catching the trickle with a vast, sweeping stroke, he tormented the intimate entrance to his lover's body with the point of his tongue.

"OH!!" Blair released his grip on the fabric of his robe to clutch helplessly at the edge of the table with both hands as his hips rocked backward to the vibration of Jim's tongue as it worked itself in and out of him in the rhythm of some carnal dance.

Suddenly, Jim stopped. "Something's missing."

Blair sighed as he pounded his forehead on the table once. The only thing missing was consistency of stimuli. His lips had just formed the word, 'please' when he felt a pressure. Cool and wet at first, he thought it was Jim's finger, and rocked back to impale himself, only to be halted by the firm grip of Jim's hand on his hip. "Stop!"

"What? No, lover, come on!"

Jim was inserting something into the tight opening. Something hard and round. . .

"There," he said triumphantly, as he parted his cheeks wide and began to worry the object with his lips and tongue.

The sensation was bizarre, yet intensely erotic. Something foreign and unidentifiable lodged just inside the first ring of muscle. The thing large enough to be intrusive like a plug, larger than a finger, but nowhere near as large as a penis. He didn't feel full, but he did feel braced open. He tested it by flexing his anal muscles. It was solid and unyielding. Blair squeezed it again. The action made him tingle. Then Jim started manipulating it with his tongue again. Blair tensed as he felt it touch him, then begin to circle the article lodged there. It moved a fraction, giving as the pressure of his Sentinel's tongue forced it in a millimeter further. Involuntarily, Blair's muscles worked, clenching around it, but he could neither bring it inside himself nor force it out.

Jim's tongue plowed a path from top to bottom of Blair's crevice, pausing to tickle at the intruder, then continue upward or down. This was repeated over and over until Blair was writhing helplessly with pleasure and yearning for something more - the small mass only intensifying his need to be filled with Jim's hot rod.

Then his lover used the flat of his tongue to push at it hard.

"Urgh!" Blair's head came off the table as his back bent in a bow. The sensation raced through him like molten flame. 'What is he doing to me with his tongue?!' Blair thought wildly. 'What does Jim have in me that's driving me crazy?' Unable to resist the urge, Blair reached forward to clasp his now painfully engorged cock in his hand, only to have it brushed impatiently away.

"This is my dessert. And I get to enjoy it all,"came a gentle reprimand from his lover, who replaced Blair's hand with his own and began to stroke. Long, deceptively gentle, steady stroking from the spasming root of his aching manhood to the bruise-red, trembling head. All the while holding his ass cheeks apart with the other hand and keeping the stimulus of his tongue on the object imbedded in his anus.

Jim worked Blair, bringing him to the edge only to stop mid-stroke and wait.

Blair rocked against the constricting grip. "Jim! Please, I was so close, man! This is NOT funny! Don't stop now!"

"Can't cum yet. Have to beg for it."

"OK! All right!" His breaths coming in labored pants as he moved in time to Jim's strokes. "Please, Big Guy! I'm begging now!"

Jim stopped. "Have to really beg for it. Not with your voice, with your body."

That was what Blair had thought he was doing all along. His grip on the table had turned his knuckles white as Jim began to stroke his cock again. This time slower, harder, taking longer to get from base to tip. And besides circling the item wedged inside him with his tongue, he began to tug on it gently with his teeth.

"What is that? What're you doing to me, man!"

Jim nipped sharply at the fullness his left cheek. "Quiet! No talking!"

"Jim, please!" Blair lowered his forehead to the table beneath him, helplessly pushing his hips back toward the torturing talent of that tongue.

Jim had Blair's balls in his hand now, rolling them slowly, firmly. When he felt them recede, heralding the coming of Blair's climax, he sped up his strokin, taking the object lodged in Blair's anus with his teeth, he tugged. As it popped free, Jim replaced it with a hard thrust of his tongue accompanied by a firm, downward stroke of his cock. Blair came with a mindless howl guaranteed to shatter glass, then melted into a boneless heap on the tabletop.

"Bring your legs down," Jim whispered, leaning over his lover as he gently pulled Blair's feet to the floor. "Still with me?" Jim asked. He was somewhere behind Blair, off to his left.

"Barely," the young Guide whispered, his face resting on his robe, not wanting to move, ever again. Blair felt the slick wetness of a finger inserted inside him. He jumped in surprise and tensed for a moment.

"Hurt?" Jim whispered, his voice soft and close to his ear.

"No." He stirred, not willing to rouse from the post-coital languor. "Mmmm, tired. That was too good."

"But there's more." Jim pushed the finger in as far as it would go, felt a slight resistance, turned it slowly, then brought it out slowly. He did it again. "Come on, lover, let me in." He repeated the sensuous stroke, finding the bump of Blair's prostate with his fingertip.

Blair jumped again as pleasure once again began washing over him in waves. "Enough," he murmured, then moaned helplessly as his hips started blindly pushing in time to his lover's manipulation.

Jim smiled as he added a second finger. "But there's a little more ice cream left. We can't let it go to waste, can we?"

"Freezer." The fire Blair had thought banked, slowly beginning to flare to life again. "Tupperware."

"Not enough for the freezer." Jim licked at the soft spot between Blair's ear and shoulder and traced a pathway with teeth and tongue guaranteed to crumble his defenses. When he felt the tense muscle of his lover's sphincter beginning to give, he added a third finger.

"Aww, Jim, that feels so damn good!" Blair murmured, then relaxed completely, letting the afterglow of the climax finish taking him away.

"Think how much better this will feel," Jim said as he slid his fingers away.

Blair felt Jim's cock head worry at the already buzzing entrance to his body. Then gradually, Jim agonizingly slowly pushed into him, filling him inch by heated, rock-solid inch. He jumped as Jim slid to the hilt, and he felt Jim's hand reach beneath him to stroke him again.

"Yes," Blair breathed, as he rose slightly to allow his Sentinel better access to the molten core of his existence.

"Yes." Jim hissed as he applied firm pressure, his strokes timed perfectly to coincide with his hard, languid thrusts until he was rewarded by the slow refilling of Blair's penis.

Jim quickly changed from long, lingering strokes (he knew neither of them would last long) until he was pounding into Blair. Plowing him like a razor sharp blade through stone hard soil.

Blair whimpered as he felt his lover's testicles slapping violently against the back of his thighs, the power of his thrusts causing the table to shift and sway, the force lifting him up on his toes. Always the gentle lover, this was something new and different, hot and wild. He was going to be so sore in the morning, but now. . .now all he could think of was Jim's tight grip on his hip controlling his movement, and Jim's fist around his cock, milking the pleasure from him, and that super-heated, steel rod of flesh - that seemed to extend all the way up into his chest - pounding into him, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He felt as if he were on the down glide of an exceedingly-high, excessively-fast roller coaster ride. He was in free fall!

Only capable of moaning till now, Jim's lovemaking caused feelings so intense to surge inside Blair, they where finally forced to explode from his lips in a cry of near agony. "Damn it, Jim," he panted. "Shit! Oh, man, like that! Fuck me hard, like that! Again! Again! Don't stop, please, don't stop! Harder! Please! Make me scream! Oh, lover! Make me come! Oh, damn! OHHHH!" Trembling, suddenly, one moment he was clutching the table, begging; the next, his climax hit him violently, causing his sphincter to spasm fiercely, pulling Ellison deeper inside, closing tight and hot around him, making him helplessly follow in ecstasy as he cried out his lover's name.

"What was it you had inside me before?" Blair asked when he could speak again.

A large, dark red cherry, complete with stem, plopped on the tabletop next to his head. He turned to eye Jim curiously.

His lover shrugged. "Something to help liven up the plain ol' vanilla."

Blair groaned. Every muscle he owned ached. What had he said about swinging from the ceiling? Be careful what you wish for.

Jim turned and lifted him in his arms. "How about that shower now?"

Blair nodded as he curled around his lover's body, resting his head against Jim's shoulder. He smiled impishly against the warmth of his skin. "I thought dishes went in the dishwasher."

"Not this one. The label reads 'hand wash only'. And that's what I intend to do."

Blair pulled his head back to look at his partner suspiciously. "Jim, you said shower, right? Just a shower? Water, soap, get clean, that's all? Then go to bed. I'm wiped, man! I swear!"

The smile his lover gave him sent shivers of apprehension down his spine. "You know me, anal retentive. Need to make sure the job is done before I put it away," he said as they ascended the stairs. "I used the ice cream for lube. Wouldn't want to leave any in there. No telling what could happen."

"Jim, I never said you were anal!"

"Have to check all the nooks and crannies to be certain I haven't missed anything." He snagged the bottle of oil from the night stand as they went by and pushed the door open with his foot.

"What's that for?!"

"Cavity search. Years of police work has taught me to be thorough."

"Jim?"

"You never know. I might have to insert a probe. Flush everything out of there."

"Jim??"

"And, there've been complaints about my modi operandi."

"Jim?!"

"So, I have to keep practicing, until I get it right, or it falls off. Whichever comes first."

"Jim!!"