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Tool Belts

Sideburns

This was so cool, Blair thought as he stood before his dresser wearing nothing but a ratty pair of tight, 'washed so many times they were now powder puff blue and skin tight' jeans.

Renovation.

He and Jim were finally going to turn his old room into a den. Blair pulled out a much loved, soft sleeveless undershirt and slipped it on, then walked to his closet. He knew his old tool belt was somewhere in the deepest recesses of the dark hole, he just had to rescue it.

Ah-ha, got it.

With a smirk, he headed into the dining room, dropped the belt on the table, then went into the kitchen.

Not long after it had become apparent that his one week stay with Jim was more likely to be a life sentence, he'd taken his tools and had happily conjoined them with Jim's. He grabbed his hammer that sat next Jim's in the tool drawer, then rummaged under the sink for a few more items he'd need. Once he had it all laid out in front of him, he got his belt and spent the next few delightful minutes slipping all the tools into their slots or pockets in his belt.

When it was full, he admired it for a few seconds, then lifted it and put the belt around his waist. As he buckled it, he nodded in satisfaction that he had to use an extra notch. Belt in place, Blair walked to the head of the stairs and said quietly, "Yo, Jimbo? You ready? Project Chez Ellison-Sandburg is on the landing strip and cleared for take-off."

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep your shirt on, Sandburg. And what's with this 'Chez Ellison-Sandburg' thing?"

Before Blair could answer, Jim appeared at the head of the stairs. Blair stared pop-eyed at his roommate and bedtoy, then his mouth dropped open.

"Um -- Jim?" he finally managed to squeak out. "You're, like, wearing nothing but your tool belt. That could be kind of -- dangerous -- you know?"

"Dangerous? Are you crazy?" Jim grinned, then reached back for one of his tools. He flipped it out of a slot and held it up for Sandburg's inspection.

Blair watched the action and even as his mind registered what the item was, he had the absurd feeling that Jim was some kind of fast on the draw pornographic cowboy hero in a "shot in a garage' cheapie porno flick -- or maybe just -- crazy. No matter. His gaze went back to the item in Jim's hand and he whistled low. He'd had no idea that it could be used for renovation.

Jim started to twirl the item like a cowboy might twirl his gun, and said,

"What we have here, Blair, my main squeeze, is your basic 2.5 ounce flip top bottle of Astroglide. Water based, condom safe. But if that doesn't do it for you, I also have," he slid the Astroglide back into its holder and flipped out another bottle, "your personal favorite, Probe Silk. Odorless and tasteless and just to accomodate you, I have the seventeen ounce pump top bottle."

The Probe Silk went back and with a move so quick, Blair almost missed it, Jim was fanning a deck of -- condoms.

"Um, Jim?"

"Yes, Chief, what you see is what you get. For both our pleasures, I have a ten pack of Pleasure Plus, ribbed just for your cute little ass. For me, well, a three pack of the Gold Coin Condoms. You know how excited you get, and with the Gold Coin, well, even a bupkis like you can get the damn things on."

"Jim? If that's your idea of erotic sweet talk? Well, watching a rerun of SmackDown! has a greater potential for providing me with an earthshattering orgasm. Just thought I should mention that."

"Wait, wait," Jim said, holding up his hand and smirking. He whipped out something else and let it dangle from his -- middle -- finger. "The Zorro, Chief. Just for you," he paused significantly before adding, "to put -- on -- me."

Blair gave a little wiggle of his hips as he quickly adjusted his jeans, which were suddenly a wee bit tight. "O-kay, now you've got my interest. Go on."

Grinning manically, Jim whipped out from a back loop, an item that nearly took Blair's breath away.

"A little something extra for you, Chief. This seventeen inch Dong, apple-cinnamon scented, soft jelly with an AC/DC head. And if that doesn't get your clothes off and your butt in our bed, well, I have this."

The dong was put away with one hand while with the other, Jim flipped out one final item.

"The one, the only, Artillery Shell Butt Plug. With the flip of a switch, I turn you into a puddle of Blairgoo."

Slowly Blair undid the buckle of his tool belt and allowed it to drop easily to the floor. As his fingers grabbed at the hem of his shirt, he said, "Jim, you really know how to stock a tool belt. I'm thinking that the renovation on our den can wait. It's time to renovate -- me."

He pulled the shirt up painfully slow, allowing his skin to be revealed in small increments. The moan from the top of the stairs told him all he needed to know. Blair tugged it off and let his hair fall back before giving his head a slight shake.

"Yeah, Jim, you and tool belts are like peanut butter and jelly. Apple-cinnamon jelly."

He pulled at the button of his jeans until it popped open, then tugged on his zipper. With his eyes on Jim, he began to lower it, one notch at a time.

Jim's eyes were beginning to glaze over as he groaned. Blair smiled.

"Um, Chief?" Jim said, his voice husky.

"Yes, Jim?" Blair said as his fingers started to push at the waistband.

"Did I mention -- I have -- clamps? And -- cuffs?"

"Why no, Jim, you didn't."

"Oh. Well, I have," Jim blinked as curling pubic hair was revealed. Just as the hint of something greater was promised by another wiggle of Blair's hips, the younger man stopped. Jim's eyes bugged out and he said through clenched teeth, "Clamps, Chief -- and -- cuffs--"

Jim licked his lips at the thought of a naked, cuffed Blair, laid out all for him. He jerked his head, indicating that Blair should continue his strip tease, but instead, Blair said conversationally, "Who wears the cuffs and clamps first, Jim?"

"Uh--I, maybe--what was the question again?" a now sweat-soaked Jim asked, his eyes fastened on the pubic hair that tufted up from open zipper.

Blair wiggled his butt, then stepped out of the jeans, glad he'd decided to go commando. As he kicked his jeans away, he looked up, smiled, then held out his hands, wrists together. Jim's eyes glazed over and with a small smile, Blair started up the stairs toward his partner.

The End

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