Jim paced himself by the smaller man, watching him. Blair ran hard, feet pelting across the ground, head bent and teeth ground together so tightly they almost splintered and broke. He shouldn't have been out of hospital. Or Rafe. Hell, half of them belonged in beds, being cared for. But they were running instead.

The Germans had returned in force, taking Saint-Nizier inch by bloody inch, blasting their way through the hastily erected barricades and the tired fighters behind them, once-living people reduced to bloody rags trampled under uncaring boots.

So they were running. Deeper into the mountainous territory, towards Vassieux, Vercors, needing to warn the resistance cells there by word of mouth, because the radio was left in thirty sparking pieces when the operator was cut in two by a schmeisser.

They finally made it into Vassiex, not quite the band they had hoped, bearing fresh ammunitions and hope, but a dusty, gasping motely group of rebels, nothing but the shirts on their backs and sometimes not even that.

The pressure off, the danger at bay for now, Jim swept his lover up into his arms and carried him into the house someone had secured for them. He didn't know who - Simon perhaps, Joel or Megan, it didn't matter. Blair didn't protest the motion, clinging to him as his legs wobbled, the adrenaline rush fading and his tired and battered body making its complaints known. Megan scavenged a battered old kit from somewhere - everything they had was lost at St. Nizier, save for the ever-present weapons - and followed them inside, gentle hands professionally checking over the healing wound in Blair's shoulder and pronouncing it sound.

When she had finished, Blair had recovered some of his spark, trailing cheeky fingers over Jim's thigh where he was seated beside him, bigger and smaller, varying the pattern, scampering up and down. It had been a long two days.

With a knowing smile and an exaggerated rolling of her eyes, Conner left them to it, gathering up her kit and heading outside, where others still needed her care.

With a strained grin, Jim gently disengaged his lover's hand, resting the curled fingers on the flat plane of Blair's stomach. Blair blinked up at him surprise, then let out a startled yelp as his pants were whisked away.

To his disappointment, Jim then got up and disappeared. There was the creak of an ancient faucet, the splatter of water into a basin, then Jim reappeared with a damp cloth. Helping the Maquisard out of his shirt, Jim gently ran the cloth over the revealed skin, carefully wiping away the dust and sweat.

Blair sighed happily and enjoyed the sensation. Sex it was not, but it felt so good to be clean again that he didn't object.

He giggled and shifted a little as Jim danced the material over his ticklish ribs, then the sound became deeper, more passionate as the water trailed scorching fibres to his groin

With a growl, Jim shucked his own clothing and settled himself over his lover, straddling him, careful to rest his weight on his own heels and not the smaller man. It had been a long two days for him as well. Blair grinned gaily up at him, hair mussed and face flushed. His penis bobbed slightly like some fairground toy as Jim shifted his weight, rocking the mattress and Ellison found himself drawn to the motion, intrigued. Shifting back, he took a hesitant lick, drawing back as Blair's hips jerked up convulsively. Rocking back onto his heels again, he studied his lover's face, noting the wild eyes alive with an indescribable ecstasy with some sadness. How long had it been since Blair had been pleasured? Given something for him and him alone?

Resolve firmed inside him. Today.

Dipping his head, he licked again, again, the smaller man's taste exploding over his tastebuds in a rainbow of sensations. Tastes were colours were scents were sounds and he opened his mouth wider, wanting more and more. He rubbed his tongue along the underside of the other man's shaft, trying to imitate the motions Blair had used on Jim himself. He didn't know how successful his attempts were, but he judged them to be pretty close by the strangled mewls escaping Blair's throat, the way his head thrashed from side to side in pure carnal pleasure.

Pulling away with difficulty, Jim replaced his mouth with his hand, sliding it up and down the slick shaft as he shifted up to capture his lovers nipples, lovingly treating each pebbled mound to a gentle tongue bath. The mewls above his head began to take on a note of urgency, and he shifted further, the light fur on the Maquisards chest brushing like a cat against his cheek as he made his way to his lover's lips.

Blair latched eagerly onto him, hips jerking spasmodically into Jim's firm grasp, his own hand rising to trail down Jim's chest. Slender fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking, caressing, one firm pump, two, and the world dissolved into a haze of bright light and primal howls.