|
I'm Too Socksy. Jim was already grimacing as he walked down the hall. "What the hell is that kid cooking now?" He opened the door cautiously, holding his breath as his eyes watered from the fumes. In a flurry he raced over to the stove and removed whatever was slowly simmering, slamming the lid down on top of it with a bang. "Whew!" he breathed out, and then made the mistake of breathing back in. That was the last thing he remembered for a while. 000 Blair could hear the music as he came down the hall. He frowned a little as he juggled the washing basket on his hip, fumbling for his keys to unlock the front door. Jim didn't usually like his tunes so loud. The young man took an appreciative sniff as the door swung open. "Mmmm, that smells great!" he said enthusiastically to himself. Putting the basket on the table near the door he moved to check on his soup, stopping in surprise when he saw it had been shifted to the cold burner. "Hey!" he said angrily, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "Who's been messing with my soup?" Looking up to the top level Blair could see moving shadows on the wall so he tromped to the stairs. At this point he didn't even care if Jim was entertaining up there on his big wide bed, this was more important. Blair called ahead of him as he stomped up the worn wooden treads. "Hey, Jim, why did you mess with my... soup?" He stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth still open on the last word. Jim was emerging from the walk-in closet, dancing fiercely to the rhythmic beat of Right Said Fred's version of I'm Too Sexy. The dancing itself might have been enough to cause Blair's total shock, in fact it surely would have been, but as it happened it was Jim's apparel that pushed him over the edge. Or lack of it. The big guy was wearing a white sock wrapped around his brow like a rakish bandanna. He was holding a white sock in one hand and waving it wildly as he bopped. A third white sock was covering his rampant erection, swaying gaily as Jim strutted and gyrated to the beat. Blair gasped for oxygen just as his brain was yelling at him to start breathing again. "J.. Jim?" he stuttered. Jim's eyes focused on the young man and lit up. A feral grin broke out on the dance-sweated face and without missing a beat Jim swung over to him, wide chest gleaming in the dim afternoon light, narrow hips jerking and thrusting to the pulsing beat. Blair backed up a step, forgetting that the stairs were behind him, and swift as thought Jim whipped the sock out and looped it at the nape of the young man's neck, tugging just firmly enough to restore his balance. Heart beating double time from his near miss and the shock of the sight before him Blair automatically reached out, hands clutching tight warm skin and sliding over broad shoulders. "Yeah," Jim groaned, slipping the sock down Blair's back and tugging the ends rhythmically. The sock covered erection grazed Blair's jeans and he jerked backwards again. "Jim?" he gasped in shock as the big man began dirty dancing with him, pushing the white sock and it's occupant against him and then twisting away. "What the hell are you doing?" The stretched white sock slid to his hips and Jim threw his head back and groaned in pleasure as he tightened his hold, grinding his hips into Blair's. With shock Blair felt his own imprisoned cock respond to the pressure, urged on by the driving beat and the sheer overwhelming sexuality of the man dancing mindlessly against him. "Jim, you have to stop, man," Blair groaned. "Something is wrong here." Jim had now dropped the sock and was holding Blair's hips, grinding and gyrating against him as the dance version of the song went on and on. "Um, this should not be happening," Blair groaned again as his own hands caught Jim's narrow hips, sliding over firm sweat slicked muscle, almost involuntarily cupping tight hard buns. "Oh, god you are hard," he gasped, throwing his own head back now. His clothes were in the way but he couldn't have moved to shift them if he wanted to. His brain was in the way too and he hastily buried it under mounting sexual delight. Plenty of time to worry about all that when he finally achieved his primary goal here, which was to get Jim to move just that bit harder... yeah.. right there, like that, don't stopdon'tstopohgod... With groan Blair collapsed against Jim's rigid chest, just as the other man bit down hard on the anthropologist's neck and came. Ignoring his wet sticky pants Blair held Jim close to him, running his hands over the damp muscled back and whispering soothing words. Jim was obviously coming down from whatever high he had been on, and just at that moment the song finally ended and the loft was plunged into silence. Jim was almost unconscious on his feet as Blair maneuvered him to the edge of the bed. Then all he had to do was release him, and the big guy was toppling onto his back. "Blair?" he said groggily. Trying desperately not to look at the body he had just taken advantage of Blair shook out a folded quilt and threw it over Jim. "I'm here, Jim," he said guiltily. With a muffled curse he pulled the sock from Jim's brow and tossed it across the room. "What happened, do you remember?" "Remember?" Jim mumbled. "Remember what? And what the hell is that stuff you are cooking? It smells awful." Blair sniffed and then stiffened in shock. His soup! Swiftly he raced down the stairs and tipped the cool concoction down the garbage disposal. He then opened the French doors and let the damp evening breeze waft into the loft. Without pausing to change his uncomfortably damp clothes Blair skipped back up the stairs to check on his friend. Jim was sitting on the side of the bed, quilt modestly covering his lap, head in his hands. "What the hell happened to me?" he was groaning, running his fingers through his ruffled hair. "Um, I think you got high on my soup," Blair said hesitantly. Jim turned accusing bloodshot eyes on his and Blair hurried into speech. "I swear I had no idea it was anything more than innocuous, Jim, I swear. I did a little shopping in this Asian foodstore and picked up some vegetables. Or maybe it was the spice," he mused, perching on the end of the bed. "I don't care what it was!" Jim roared and then winced, cupping his head in his hands again. "What did it do to me?" Blair crossed his legs, desperately wishing he'd changed before coming up here. "Why? What do you remember?" he asked innocently. Jim frowned, creasing blood shot eyes. "I remember... music... and dancing... and..." A look of horror crossed his face and with a gulp he delved into his quilt covered lap with one hand. His face was ashen as the hand emerged, one damp smelly sock dangling from his fingers. "What did I do?" Jim squeaked, horror melting into mortification. Blair hastened to reassure him. "Nothing too bad, Jim," he soothed. "You were high, that's all. You danced a bit and then collapsed." Jim surveyed the soiled sock still dangling from his fingers. "Uh huh. And at what point did dancing and collapsing involve me ejaculating into my sock?" he asked, voice raising until the last word was a bellow. Blair ducked his head and then realised his mistake as Jim cursed. A gentle hand swept his hair aside and touched his neck. "At what point did it involve me biting you?" he asked in more hushed tones. "Aww, I'm sorry, Jim," Blair hastened into speech. "You were really turned on and you were dancing and you pulled me to you and I got excited too. I didn't mean to take advantage of you." Jim took a sniff of the air and his face tightened. "Did I hurt you?" he said, stone faced. "No!" Blair exclaimed. "It was great! Except for the fact that you were incapable of rational thought," he finished miserably. "I am sorry, Jim." Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm the one who should apologise, Blair. I grabbed you." "But it was my soup." "But I wouldn't let you go." "But I enjoyed it." Jim looked at Blair, who looked back at him. "You enjoyed it?" he said incredulously. Blair shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "It was pretty hot." "I wish I remembered more now," Jim teased and Blair relaxed. "Well, I guess that could be arranged," Blair said, a little shyly. Jim smiled slowly. "Okay, Chief." He gently cuffed his guide's shoulder. "But next time you wear the socks, okay?" Blair grinned mischievously. "Deal." The End.
|