janedavitt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
janedavitt) wrote2007-02-12 11:35 pm
janedavitt) wrote2007-02-12 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
The Sentinel 'Confession Time' Jim/Blair NC17
This is a snippet that isn't even a proper drabble; 250 words of Blair's thoughts watching Jim interview someone.
Which, in canon, can verge on pornographic, or maybe that's just me...
ETA and it turned into a longish fic. Wow.
If you want to read it all at once, it's on my web page here:
Confession Time
Confession Time
Jim's hands are planted firmly on the table, nowhere near skin, nowhere near clothing. But his lips are close enough to the suspect's ear that Blair knows each word Jim's whispering, just loud enough for the tape to catch, is felt as well as heard.
And Jim's smile, the little catch of amusement darkening his voice, is like the scrape of a blade.
He's invasive, threatening, totally overwhelming like this. And now one hand is caressing the chin of the man who thought he could kill children in Jim's city, tilting the man's face so he can smile down into it, each word bringing Jim's face closer, closer, until the parody of intimacy twists past the point of endurable and the man cracks, babbling, trying to free himself from the promise of pain in that smile.
And Blair bites down on his knuckle, needing the gag of bone and skin to silence him, needing the pain to ground him, because Jim's killing him here and the thick, strong pulse of blood in his cock is shameful enough, given the cause, that he'll sleep alone tonight, a self-imposed exile Jim will worry over without asking him why.
Jim's never like this with him in bed or out of it. But Blair sometimes wonders what it would be like to stare up into Jim's eyes and see no mercy, no hope of release.
He thinks he'd like it and that stopped scaring him a long time ago.
Pity it would terrify Jim.
Continues here.
Which, in canon, can verge on pornographic, or maybe that's just me...
ETA and it turned into a longish fic. Wow.
If you want to read it all at once, it's on my web page here:
Confession Time
Confession Time
Jim's hands are planted firmly on the table, nowhere near skin, nowhere near clothing. But his lips are close enough to the suspect's ear that Blair knows each word Jim's whispering, just loud enough for the tape to catch, is felt as well as heard.
And Jim's smile, the little catch of amusement darkening his voice, is like the scrape of a blade.
He's invasive, threatening, totally overwhelming like this. And now one hand is caressing the chin of the man who thought he could kill children in Jim's city, tilting the man's face so he can smile down into it, each word bringing Jim's face closer, closer, until the parody of intimacy twists past the point of endurable and the man cracks, babbling, trying to free himself from the promise of pain in that smile.
And Blair bites down on his knuckle, needing the gag of bone and skin to silence him, needing the pain to ground him, because Jim's killing him here and the thick, strong pulse of blood in his cock is shameful enough, given the cause, that he'll sleep alone tonight, a self-imposed exile Jim will worry over without asking him why.
Jim's never like this with him in bed or out of it. But Blair sometimes wonders what it would be like to stare up into Jim's eyes and see no mercy, no hope of release.
He thinks he'd like it and that stopped scaring him a long time ago.
Pity it would terrify Jim.
Continues here.