Author's Note: This wouldn't have gotten posted without encouragement from Maigret, Noon, Heidi, Virg, and Boyd. So blame them.

Story Notes: This was written on irc in response to a challenge: a first time in which the partners are not in the same room, but connect via a long-distance medium. I said to myself, Jim's senses are a long-distance medium.

Summary: Jim gets a late-night phone call. Then he gets something else.

Warnings: m/m

Jim couldn’t sleep. He blamed the noise from the wharf, but it was just an excuse; the wind always brought the same sounds from the nearby water, and it never kept him awake. The truth was - he rolled over with a groan and buried his face in the pillow - the truth was he was embarrassed at what he’d said to Sandburg. It was one thing to joke with a buddy about his near-constant state of arousal, but it was something else to insinuate that he was always horny because he was always around you. “Always up my ass” probably wasn’t the best way to phrase it, either. Score another one for Ellison, you smooth dog, you.

The fact that Sandburg was always horny around Jim didn’t mean he wasn’t always horny when he wasn’t with Jim. He probably was. But surely Sandburg was aware that he got a hard-on every time Jim shoved him out of harm’s way. Jim sometimes wondered if Sandburg got in harm’s way just so he could be shoved out of it, preferably by a full-body-contact tackle to the ground. Subconsciously, of course. Copping a feel wasn’t worth a concussion.

Jim rolled onto his back. He had to get some sleep if they were going camping tomorrow, so he just had to put it out of his mind. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d opened his mouth and heard something damn stupid come out of it. In the morning he’d apologize, Sandburg would forgive him, and they’d move on.

He practiced breathing deeply. After a few minutes, he began to drift off, secure in the knowledge that Sandburg already knew he was an ass.

The phone’s ringing jarred him rudely out of his comfortable place. “Dammit, Simon, I quit,” he mumbled, and picked the phone up. “Yeah, what?” he grumbled.

Sandburg’s low throaty laugh sounded in his ear. “Did I wake you?” he asked, in voice that was about an octave lower than normal. Sandburg never talked to women like that, he realized. He only talked like that when he was coaxing Jim into doing something he wouldn’t normally do.

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, I was just drifting off - what is it, Sandburg? Where are you?” Coming fully awake, Jim listened, and caught the sound of Sandburg in the room underneath his. Why the hell Sandburg using his cell phone? Too lazy to walk up the stairs?

“You know where I am,” Blair said, in that slightly rough, sexy voice. “I bet you know exactly what I’m doing, too.”

Jim listened. Through the phone, through the floor, he heard it: the unmistakeable sound of flesh on flesh, of a body moving restlessly against sheets, of the quickened breath that meant that Blair was...

“Sandburg, stop that,” Jim said, his mouth dry. “If this is about what I said... I’m sorry, really-”

"Shut up, Jim,” Blair crooned. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to listen.” The bed in the room below creaked, and Blair groaned softly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” Jim whispered. His own hand strayed down, taking hold of his growing erection. He thought of Blair writhing against the mattress, hair wild, lips parted and shining. He groaned.

“Are you with me, Jim?” Blair asked softly.

“Oh, yeah. I am,” Jim murmured. Right there, with Blair, smelling his body, his arousal; that wasn’t his imagination; the scent drifted upwards and caressed him, and he stroked himself again, hard.

“Okay,” Blair said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure you were into it.” The phone line disconnected, and Jim blinked. “I know you can still hear me, Jim,” Blair’s voice whispered to him. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be with you? Months. Forever.” He moaned. “Ah, Jim...”

Jim dropped the phone into its cradle and took hold of his dick with both hands. God, it felt like years since he’d touched himself like this, really wanting the pleasure, not just needing the release. “Blair...” he murmured, even though he knew Blair couldn’t hear him.

“Close your eyes, Jim,” Blair said. Jim did. He could almost see Blair: his hands on his cock (his hefty cock, often felt through denim) stroking hard (sound of callused flesh on smooth), his heels digging into the mattress, lifting his hips, strong heady scent of arousal, moaning his name... *Jim*. He matched the motion he imagined from the sounds and scents, arching his hips up, stroking faster, and calling out Blair’s name, loudly enough for the other man to hear him. Blair laughed, breathless and happy, and came hard, gasping. The scent of his release rolled over Jim like a tidal wave and he groaned aloud through his orgasm, imagining Blair’s strong callused hands on his skin.

After a moment, when his sight cleared, he picked up the phone and dialed Blair’s cell number. “God, you’re dangerous, Sandburg,” he said.

Blair chuckled. “I guess that means you got off?”

“Oh, yeah. Tell you what, Chief, next time, can we be in the same room?”

~~end

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