December 6

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

Author: CaliaDragon
Title: Laughter
Date: December 6
Fandom: The Sentinel/Crime Drama
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Rating: PG
Summary: Jim and Blair spend a little time together when Rafe is stuck undercover.
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Feedback address: caliadragon1@myself.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: This takes place after "Solstice Revelations" my December 1 story. Minor crossover, character only mentioned though.
Beta: Edi the Wonderful

Laughter

Jim couldn’t remember laughing so much and so long until Blair came into his life. The last few months that laughter had been missing, but after the solstice celebration two weeks earlier, that had begun to change. Blair was back to being the live wire that Jim had come to know and love so greatly.

The three men had agreed to take things slow and to get to know one another again. The three men were spending all of their free time together and finding out more about each other.

Tonight Rafe was stuck undercover so it was just Blair and Jim alone in the loft. They were partaking of an annual holiday treat that Blair insisted on watching tonight.

When Jim asked about the tradition the first time Blair had smiled softly and spoke of a holiday spent with a younger cousin in California. They only had one winter together, but it had started a tradition. They would watch the show, and then Blair would call from wherever he was at the time.

Jim looked forward to one day meeting the cousin that inspired Blair to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and not talk about its cultural definitions. Jim just thought it was cute and he knew that Rafe was going to be upset to have missed watching Blair act like a little kid again and listen to his laughter something that had been to short in supply until just recently.

As the conversation between Blair and his cousin was came to an end, Jim listened to the joy in the younger man’s voice and smiled again. “No, I think it’s a great idea. You need a vacation and you can meet my guys. I don’t think they’ll have a problem with that. All right, I’ll ask first, but you have to remember they let me stay, even after they met Naomi. Yeah, I love you too. I’ll call you tomorrow. Be safe little guy.” Here Blair paused to laugh. “Hey a guy has to have his delusions. I’m older than you are, even if you did get taller. Bye.”

After Blair had put the cordless phone back on the hook, he turned and walked back over to where Jim was sitting and snuggled down beside him. “So what was that all about?”

“I want my cousin to come up and spend Christmas with us, if that’s okay?” Blair asked with a smile.

“You know it is, but I assume from this end of the conversation he isn’t sure of his welcome.” Jim said as he leaned down and kissed Blair.

When they pulled apart, Blair grinned up at him. “Nope, but then that’s Xander for you. Do you think Rafe will be okay with it?”

“Nah, call him back and tell him to come on up.” Jim told him. Blair grinned and leaned up to kiss him again.

“I’ll call him later; I want something else right now.” Blair told him a few minutes later. Jim laughed. He could live with that.

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Firefly - Jayne/Simon

Author:Angelee
Title: Snowdrift
Date: Dec 16
Pairing: Jayne/Simon
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jayne, Simon alone in damaged shuttle.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed
Feedback address: angelee79912@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.html
Note: Words you might like to know. Mei-mei- little sister Gorram-damn, Dong ma-understand. Tianna-Oh God. Translations found at fireflyfan.net.
Beta: By my sister Anna. All final errors are mine. With apologies.

SnowDrift

“I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were, Jayne.” Simon told his burly companion.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” Simon replied. Applying the bandage to the cleansed, medicated wound on Jayne’s forehead.

“Really I didn’t. I went snow blind for a second. I swear there wasn’t snow there when I decided to go that a way and all of a sudden there it was and we’d hit it before I could pull up.”

Simon sighed. Looking in to the remorseful blue-gray eyes staring up at him. “I know, Jayne. Don’t worry about it. Mal will find us eventually.”

“Yeah, but it takes time and I know you wanted to spend Christmas with you Mei-mei.”

“I did. I still can. They’ll find us. And besides I can spend Christmas with River when we get back to Serenity . You didn’t mean to get us stuck.”

“I didn’t. Really I didn’t.”

Simon sighed again. “Don’t sweat it, Jayne. I don’t mind spending Christmas with you.”

Jayne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me?”

Simon smiled. “Yes. You.”

“I thought you didn’t even like me.”

“I don’t mind you, Jayne. Dong ma?”

“We don’t exactly move in the same circles you and I.” Jayne replied, stretching his massive bulk in the cramped shuttle. Jayne was big, really big. He towered over all most everyone.

Simon looked out of one of the many shuttle windows. For as far the eye could see there was only snow. Snow, more snow and yet more snow.

The snow had been blowing fast, violently, creating an ever-changing landscape of shifting snowdrifts. Jayne going low to avoid detection after picking up medical supplies for Serenity slammed into one of them before the mercenary could pull up and now the shuttle refused to start.

It could have happened to anyone. It truly could have. Only Jayne seemed to refuse to believe that.

It could have to do with the fact that most people thought Jayne Cobb had not a single whole marble in his bag. Which was not true. He might be a mercenary who’d go with whoever gave him the best offer. He might be gruff, dirty and occasionally uncouth. But what had ended them in a non-working shuttle in the middle of a violent snowstorm could have happened to anyone.

“No, in another world we probably wouldn’t have. But we do in this one.” Simon told him softly.

He sat down opposite Jayne. Legs stretched out along side Jayne’s. The mercenary was big, really big. And the heat coming off of him would keep the doctor warm despite the cold that was starting to seep in from outside. At least along the side where their legs touched.

“Jayne?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m starting to get cold.”

Jayne sighed heavily. “Yeah, me too.”

“Jayne?”

“Yeah?”

“I know how we can keep warm?” Simon told him conversationally.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you trust me?”

Jayne opened his eyes slightly. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Simon said, disappointed.

“Don’t take it personal. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Oh. Alright then. Jayne?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really cold.”

The blue-gray eyes opened all the way as they started at Simon. The Doc was starting to shiver noticeably. Blue eyes meet his hopefully.

“Oh, alright. Come here.” He told him grudgingly, opening his arms.

Simon gave him a brilliant smile as he scrambled into them. “Thank-you, Jayne.” He told the mercenary happily burying himself deep into his burly bulk.

“Yeah, well don’t be getting no ideas there, Doc.”

“Okay. Jayne?”

“What now?”

“I’m still cold.”

The mercenary heaved a deep sigh. “Gorram, what do you want?”

“Spread your legs so I can go between them.”

“What?”

Simon looked up to met outraged eyes. “Spread your legs so I can go between them. “Come on, Jayne. I promise not to compromise your virtue. It’s just that there’s more of you then there is of me. And I’m really cold.” Simon said plaintively.

Reluctantly Jayne spread his legs. Allowing Simon to go between them. “Nice.” Was the comment as the doctor made himself comfortable. “Tangle your legs over mine.” He demanded after a moment.

Jayne rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Simon was practically in his lap. Head tucked under his chin. “Happy, now?” He asked sarcastically.

Simon wiggled happily for a moment. “Oh, yeah. You’re really warm.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m good for something.”

“Tianna, if I’d known you were so warm I’d have gone to you instead of looking for extra blankets back on Serenity.”

Jayne chuckled. “Know how that sounds, Doc?”

Guileless blue eyes looked up at him. “Huh?”

“Doc, you can’t be that much of a innocent.”

Cold hands buried themselves into Jayne’s clothing seeking out skin. “What are you talking about, Jayne?”

The mercenary shivered as they found it. “Damn, your hands are cold.”

“They won’t be for long.” He was told contently. A head burying itself once again under his chin.

Jayne rubbed his face against Simon’s soft hair. “Doc, are you comin’ on to me?”

“And if I am?” Simon said defiantly.

“Then I might be a takin’ you up on it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Simon sighed sadly. “But it’s to damn cold in here. We’ll freeze.”

“All you gotta do is turn on the heaters.”

“Heaters?”

Jayne nodded. “Yup, all shuttles have them.”

“But I thought they weren’t working when we hit the snowdrift.”

“Different system.”

“You made me think we were going to freeze to dead?”

“Never said that, did I?”

“Why did you make me think we didn’t have heat?” Simon asked, pulling away slightly.

“Wanted to see what you’d do.” Jayne replied pulling him back.

“Were you trying to get me into your pants?”

“Hmm, yup.” Came the unrepented reply.

“Oh, okay. Turn on the heat and I’ll see what I can do.” Jayne reached up and flipped a switch. “Oh, you bastard.” Simon said with a smile.

“Yup.”

The small shuttle quickly filled with warmth. “Oh, yeah. That’s much, much better.” Simon said. He turned to Jayne. “That’s not saying that I didn’t like how I was keeping warm before. Okay, let see about getting me into your pants.” The mercenary jumped. “Oops, hand still cold?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Doc.” Jayne complained, half-heartedly.

“Think of it as revenge for not telling me about the heaters.”

“Fair enough.”

“Jayne?”

“Yeah, Doc?”

Simon eyed Jayne’s mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why surely.” The mercenary replied.

Their lips met in their first kiss. At first just a gentle touching of lips. Slowly becoming more heated. Simon opening his mouth wide kissing Jayne hungrily. Slowly he pulled away, biting Jayne’s lower lip.

“You taste good, Jayne.” He said, licking at the small hurt.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm. Can I uncover you? You’ve got way to much clothing on. To hard to reach you.” His hands beginning to unbutton and unzip before Jayne had had an chance to respond. “Nice. Very, very nice.”

Jayne was big everywhere. Simon’s hands went between the mercenary’s legs rubbing hard. Making Jayne flinch Yup, big very big.

“Wow, there Doc. Real sure of yourself, ain’t ya? You sure ain’t sweet no angel.”

“Never claimed to be an angel, Jayne. Sweet or otherwise.” Simon whispered against Jayne’s chest. Mouth seeking and finding a tiny nipple waiting for him to suck.

He did hungrily. Smiling inwardly when Jayne’s big hands tangled in his hair pulling him close against his chest, moving Simon gently against him as the big man sought more contact.

“Tianna.” Jayne moaned softly. “Other one, Simon. Please the other one’s missin’ the attention.”

Simon let the mercenary tug his head over toward the other waiting nipple. “Sensitive, here?”

“Y…yeah.”

Kneading the big man’s chest Simon pushed more of Jayne into his mouth. Licking and sucking hungrily. The mercenary tasted good, so good.

“Let me love you, Jayne. Please let me love you.” He pleaded softly.

“I…”

“Please, please.” Simon began urgently pulling at Jayne’s clothing.

When all the many layers Jayne wore were tossed aside Simon looked at the big body. “Oh, Jayne your gorgeous.”

He had the honor of seeing the big, buff mercenary blush a bright red. “You ain’t suppose to be a sayin’ such things, Doc.”

“But why?”

“Cause we’s fellas.”

Simon ran his hands over the miles and miles of warm flesh that was Jayne Cobb. “Well that’s just fucked up. And I can say you’re gorgeous if I want. And you’re one fine specimen of maleness, Jayne Cobb.” He sighed happily.

The blush deepened. “Doc.” He said self-consciously.

Simon smiled. “Okay, I’ll stop. Lay back, Jayne.”

Blue-gray eyes looked at him distrustfully. “Why?”

Simon urged the big body down. “Because I’m about to give you the loving of a lifetime.”

Jayne smiled as he complied. “Modest ain’t ya?”

“Oh, yeah.” Simon replied. “My mom always said that about me. Simon Tam you are a modest boy, she use to tell me all the time.”

Jayne smiled shyly at him. “Aren’t you gonna take your clothes off?”

Simon thought the shy smile was kinda cute coming from a big, bad mercenary type, as he very carefully laid his body on top of Jayne’s. “No, not just yet.”

“That don’t seem fair.”

Simon smiled. “Don’t worry so much, Jayne. You’re going to like what I have planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” The mercenary said skeptically.

“Hmm.” Simon replied.

With that said proceeded to drive the big mercenary half out of his mind. There wasn’t an inch of Jayne’s big body that missed Simon’s gentle, loving touch. From the top of Jayne’s forehead to his toes and every gorram inch in between. Time seemed to stand still for the mercenary as he gave himself to Simon’s tender, enthusiastic care.

“Simon, Simon. Please you’re makin’ me crazy.”

“Hmm.” Simon replied. Unable to form words as he enthusiastically sucked on Jayne’s big toe.

Jayne glared down at him. “Don’t make me go down there a gettin’ ya.”

Simon laughed. “Oh, alright.” He replied, rubbing his still clothed body against Jayne’s. He kissed the mercenary passionately before whispering into his ear. “Turn over.”

Jayne’s big hands pulled Simon’s shirt free of his pants. “Why?”

“I’m not done with you. I still need the other side.”

Jayne shook his head fighting Simon as the doctor urged him over. “No. You made me crazy doin’ the front.”

Simon kissed him again. “Please, Jayne. You’ll like it, I promise.” He plead, licking Jayne’s lips urgently, hungrily, over and over. “Please. Please.”

The big man sighed softly. “I’m doin’ this against my better judgment.” He said, reluctantly turning over.

Simon kissed the back of his neck earning a shiver. “You’re going to love what I have planned.”

“Hmm.” Jayne replied, burying his head in his arms.

The mercenary’s skepticism didn’t last long. Simon paid just as careful attention to the back as he had to Jayne’s front. Warm kisses followed by loving licks and gentle nibbles made their way all the way down to make their way partially back up. Settling at Jayne’s rump.

For a time Simon lay his head on the warm mounds of flesh. Running his hands over Jayne’s thighs. Listening to the sounds of contentment Jayne was making as he waited to see what Simon did next.

Jayne’s eyes snapped opened when he felt Simon’s hands part his flesh and a very warm, wet tongue invaded him.

“Simon.” He gasped, shocked. “Don’t be a doin’ that.”

Warm puffs of air caressed him as Simon laughed quietly, before the tongue began lapping at him delicately.

Jayne felt his eyes widen at the shock of such an intimate touch. No one had ever done such a thing to him before. Never.

“S…Simon?” He questioned softly. The only response he got was the tongue increasing it’s lapping motion. “Doc?”

Simon smiled to himself as Jayne began moving back and forth as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted more or wanted to get away. Simon thrust his tongue deep, wiggling a hand underneath at the same time. Simon smiled inwardly. The mercenary was hard as a rock. He wasn’t going anywhere Jayne was going to stay right where he was.

Simon gently, insistently encouraged Jayne to kneel up. Allowing him better access to all parts of his body. Simon licked hungrily, making the mercenary moan in need. He pushed closer into the warm flesh, seeking to go deeper. Loving the sounds Jayne was making.

“Simon, Simon, Simon.” Jayne chanted softly.

Simon pulled away. “What, what, what?”

“More, more, more.” Jayne groaned.

Simon wet his finger before gently inserting it into Jayne’s body seekingly. Finding what he sought he stroked hard making the big body under him shuddered violently.

“Like that?” He whispered into the nearest ear, biting the lobe.

“Bastard.” Jayne cursed, pushing back into the finger.

“Nope. Mommy and Daddy where married, I assure you. And you still like it don’t you?”

Jayne refused to answer. Moving his head away from Simon’s mouth almost angrily. So in retaliation Simon added another finger. Chuckling wickedly when Jayne gasped harshly at the intrusion into his body. “You’re no virgin to male loving, so I don’t know why you’re getting all huffy about it.”

“N…never said I was a virgin did I? Gotta get relief some how.” Jayne replied defensively, arching his head back when Simon added a third finger. “Ah, you’re no angel either. Know exactly what you’re doin’ doncha?”

“Hmm, hmm.” Simon replied using his free hand to stroke Jayne hard. “ Yeah I know my way around a male body, but that might just be because I’m a doctor.”

Jayne didn’t know if he should push back or move forward into the maddening hand or those gently thrusting fingers. “Right.” He scoffed. “And here I thought you were all prim and proper like. Purer than the snow out side the shuttle.”

Simon laughed. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Sensually licking at the sweat now covering the big, shuddering body under him.

Jayne choked out a dry laugh. “ Turns out you’re just a slut like me, ain’t ya.”

“Stick’s and stones, Jayne, stick and stones. You’re body is extremely sensitive to touch I like that. I like that a lot.”

Simon withdrew the fingers, but before Jayne could voice a complain he’d undone his pants coating himself with the same cream he’d used on Jayne’s forehead and entered the big mercenary’s body with a gentle shove.

“Ah, tianna.” Jayne moan echoed through the shuttle.

“Oh, yeah. You’re no innocent to this kind of loving are you, Jayne? Don’t think I needed the cream at all, you were so ready for me.”

“You ain’t exactly an angel yourself, Doc?” Jayne repeated in annoyance. “So don’t a be makin’ comments about my experiences.”

Simon opened his shirt spreading it wide he laid his body all along Jayne’s back. “No, angel, Jayne. Not even close to being an angel and you better quit insulting me or I’m going to stop. Do you want that?” Wrapping his arms around the big, very warm, shuddering body under him as he began thrusting-hard.

“Tianna.” Jayne whispered, dropping his head on to the floor of the shuttle and raising his butt to allow for deeper penetration. “Yes. Yes.”

“You like?” Simon asked. Nibbling on the back of the mercenary’s neck as he moved from side to side.

“Tianna.” Jayne repeated. “Yes.”

“You’re a big boy aren’t you, Jayne? I like my boys buff and big all over. Especially here.” He said, stroking hard, earning a harsh moan of pleasure/pain from the mercenary.

“A…and s…slightly s…stupid.” Jayne stuttered hoarsely.

“You’re not stupid, Jayne. Don’t say you are.”

Simon increased the thrusting until he had the mercenary’s big body moving back and forth into it. It was hard, it was fast and it was extremely satisfying to both. Jayne hadn’t been done this good in along time, if ever. He couldn’t last, he knew he couldn’t.

He keened softly as he filled Simon’s hand with his seed. He’d never had a lover that was quite as enthusiastic as the Doc before. He was going to be walkin’ funny for a while. Not that he minded. He wondered if Simon would do him some more when they got back to Serenity? He hoped so.

Simon had found release when Jayne did. Unable and unwilling to fight the spasming muscles yet refusing to pull free of the tight warmth he was encased in.

“Jayne?”

“Hmm?”

“You taste good.” Simon whispered, licking the warm milky fluid from his hands happily. Making soft appreciative sounds.

Jayne gasped, feeling himself harden all over again. It hurt, it was too soon, but there it was. “Doc you’re gonna be the death of me.” He panted.

“No way, baby. I don’t want you dead. I like the way you feel alive and so very warm way, way, way to much.”

“Aren’t you gonna get out of me?” Jayne asked, moving restlessly.

“Why, you want me to?”

Jayne turned his head slightly offering his lips. “Not really, but I want my turn.”

Simon gave him a brilliant smile. “Really?” He asked, before kissing the mercenary. Tugging on his lower lip lovingly as he pulled away.

“Yeah. This ain’t gonna be on of them one-sided affairs, is it?”

“No, Jayne. We will be equal in all things.”

“Well then get out of me. It’s my turn.”

Simon ran his hands lovingly over Jayne’s abdomen going lower to stroke the mercenary until he was rock hard and aching. “I’ll get out, but no way am I done with you.” He told him softly, pulling out slowly making Jayne.

Jayne felt hands caress his back soothingly before parting him one more time, “Simon? Doc, what are you doin’?” He asked nervously.

All he got for his trouble was that evil chuckle before a warm wet tongue began lapping hungrily at him once again.

“No. Doc, don’t.” He protested weakly. “That ain’t right.”

It continued until Simon was good and ready to stop and by that time Jayne was a mass of screaming, ultra-sensitive nerve endings. He didn’t know if he should be disappointed or not, when the maddening tongue moved away.

“Jayne?” Simon laid his head against a warm, quivering flank.

“W…what?”

“How fast do you want to get back to Serenity?”

“Huh?” Jayne replied, distracted by the hand running sensually over his body.

“Well, if you’re in a hurry to get back, I suggest you reach up and turn on the homing beacon I turned off after we hit that big snowdrift.”

“Doc!” The mercenary said, a bit shocked by Simon’s forwardness.

Jayne shuddered violently when Simon mounted him again sliding deep and began thrusting with an enthusiasm that belied the fact he’d already come once.

That gorram, homing beacon could stay off for awhile. A long while. Seemed Simon wasn’t done with him and he still hadn’t had his turn yet.

“Merry Christmas, Jayne.” Simon whispered into his ear, biting it hard.

Jayne grunted a response. It’d be along time before Jayne would even think about turning on the homing beacon. A real long time.

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Star Trek - Kirk/Spock

AUTHOR: Dina
TITLE: Good Things Come in Small Packages
DATE: December 6, 2004
FANDOM: TOS
PAIRING: K/S
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: PWP- Spock gives Jim a gift; they have fun.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine and not making money on it.
FEEDBACK: formerlysane@sbcglobal.ne t Feedback is welcome!
ADVERTISEMENT: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
NOTE: Contains graphic male/male sex. If offended or under 18 years of age, go away!
BETA: The incomparable Jesmihr and Lyrastar. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES

"Whew! I had a good time but I'm glad that's over."

Jim Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise, entered the quarters he shared with his bondmate of three months, First Officer Spock. They had just returned from the ship's Christmas Eve party. Immediately upon entering the room, Jim began flinging off his clothes until he was down to his t-shirt and boxers. Spock found Jim's habit of immediately stripping down to his underwear the minute he was off duty rather endearing.

As Jim yanked off his clothes, Spock crossed to his office to retrieve something from his desk. When he returned, he was holding a small box covered in shiny red paper and adorned with a sparkly gold bow.

"Jim, this is for you. Merry Christmas."

"Aren't we exchanging our Christmas presents tomorrow?"

"We are. But I want you to have this tonight."

Jim grinned in delight as he took the box. He held it up to his ear as he shook it, but there was no sound. Tearing off the wrappings, he opened the small box and pulled out a garment. It was a silky red thong.

"Spock…just what exactly is this for, as if I didn't already know?"

Spock looked apologetic. "I wanted to purchase this item in black but the merchant didn't have your size. And since it is Christmas, the red seemed appropriate."

"I take it you'd like me to wear this for you."

"If it's not an inconvenience."

Jim frowned in mock consideration and then laughed. "Dirty old Vulcan! I'll be back in a few minutes." He took off for the bathroom.

Spock heard the hydro-shower switch on a moment later. He hastened to make his own preparations: changing from his uniform into the dark green silk robe Jim had given him at the time of their bonding, dimming the lights and turning down the bed.

Jim reentered the bedroom area, clad in nothing but the red thong. He posed, leaning against the doorjamb, lightly stroking the fingers of his right hand over his hip. He looked at Spock through lowered lashes, his eyes intent and knowing. Then the fingers teased slowly over the growing bulge between his legs.

Lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed green, Spock studied his bondmate closely. The thong's fabric shimmered slightly where the light hit it and the tip of Jim's erection could be seen at the garment's upper edge. Jim's fingers skimmed up to his own hardened nipple. As he tugged at it gently, he flashed Spock a blinding smile.

"Well? How do I look?"

Jim had been working out rigorously these last few months and all his hard work had clearly paid off. He looked better now than he ever had in his entire life. His shoulders and arms were powerfully muscled and his abdominal muscles were well defined.

Spock had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Even better than I imagined. You look…good enough to eat. I believe that is the correct expression."

"Good enough to eat, huh? Do you promise?"

"We shall see later. But now it will please me to watch you. Please sit down."

Spock sat in a chair as Jim leaned back on the bed, legs spread wide. The Human continued to squeeze and pull his own nipple as Spock watched. Spock loved the uninhibited exhibitionism of his bondmate and had spent hours looking at Jim touch himself. Sometimes Jim merely caressed himself as he was doing now; sometimes he masturbated. Whatever Jim did, Spock always found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Spock recalled a few times when engaged in some innocent pursuit such as making a chess move or working at his desk, he had looked up to see Jim watching him and fondling himself. Spock recalled an incident during the previous week. He was seated at his desk, reading a data pad. A movement near his shoulder distracted him from his work and he turned to see Jim standing next to him. Jim's trousers were open and his erection stood straight out from his body. "Sorry," he panted, "I couldn't help myself." There was, of course, nothing else for Spock to do but eagerly suck Jim's stiff cock.

Spock's eyes devoured Jim as the Human slid his fingers inside the thong and cupped his testicles in his hand. The erect penis was now poking out of the top of the thong, a droplet of clear fluid beaded on its tip. Jim collected the droplet on his finger and hungrily licked it clean as Spock licked his own lips. Spock noticed that the Human's pupils were wide and dark with arousal.

"Turn over on your stomach," Spock said. "Spread your legs. Wider, yes, like that."

Jim turned over slowly and opened his legs. He arched his back and thrust his ass high as he gyrated it in tiny circular motions. Spock could see the red strip of fabric disappear into Jim's bottom and reappear again just above the testicles. His eyes lingered on the dark shadow of the opening between the buttocks.

Jim looked back over his shoulder at Spock as he freed his cock from the restraining thong. Then he slowly ran his fingers over the cleft of his ass and squeezed one cheek. He shoved a pillow under his hips to hike them up more easily. Turning his face to one side, he squeezed and stroked his bottom several times before fingering his anus.

Spock groaned. Jim's blatant exhibitionism always aroused him intensely. Sometimes in private moments, he pondered how it was that he, who once practiced celibacy with ease, could be driven to such desperation. Even if he mated with Jim three times a day, he would still want more.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jim murmured softly.

"Place your fingers…"

Jim cut him off. "No, tell me in other words…go on, tell me. I prepared myself in the bathroom."

Spock knew what Jim wanted him to say. As much as he loved watching Jim fondle himself, Jim loved hearing his Vulcan use crude words to describe various sexual practices. Still somewhat self-conscious at using such language, Spock had nevertheless become more adept at performing dirty talk as his confidence with his own sexuality grew. He most definitely enjoyed the pleasure it gave Jim to hear him talk thus.

"So you prepared yourself in the bathroom, my t'hy'la? Did you put lubricant in your ass so I could put my cock inside you tonight? You're greedy and shameless, always wanting to be fucked. For three point four two months I've fucked you every night and yet here you are, on our bed with your ass in the air, inviting me to fuck you once again.

"But not right now. First let me see you fuck your ass with your fingers."

Jim slowly pushed a finger inside himself. He wiggled it back and forth, in and out. As he moved the finger faster, he began to pant. Spock opened his robe and began to stroke his own hard cock, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His toes curled once and relaxed.

"Come here, Spock."

"Wait. You must be patient."

"Damn-it, Spock, come here!"

"Now, use two fingers, because in a moment I will mount you and give you the fucking you've been wanting all day, " the Vulcan said as if Jim had never spoken.

Jim pulled the finger out and reinserted it, along with its companion. He pulled at his sphincter, stretching and relaxing it. Sweat gleamed on his skin.

Spock stood and his discarded robe fell to the floor with a soft rustle. He sat next to Jim on the bed as Jim paused. He took his erection in his hand to rub it against Jim's bare hip.

"Don't stop. Yes, like that. Continue," Spock said.

Spock watched Jim's fingers, slick with lubricant, thrust in and out of his own anus.

"Do it to me, please," Jim moaned.

Spock replaced Jim's fingers with his own and the effect upon the Human was electrifying. Spock didn't need to move his hand at all as Jim begun driving his body up and down on Spock's fingers.

"Yes, yes…talk to me, tell me what you're going to do to me," Jim gasped.

Spock leaned close and brushed his lips against Jim's ear. "I'm going to fuck you now, hard and fast and deep, just the way you like it. I'm going to shove my cock all the way up your ass and fuck you until you beg me to stop."

"Quit talking about it and do it!"

Jim hissed as Spock's fingers were suddenly removed from his body and Spock pulled him to his hands and knees. The thong was yanked down. Spock rubbed the tip of his cock back and forth across Jim's opening, teasing him. The Vulcan then inserted the tip of his cock into Jim's anus and pulled it back out. As Jim tried to surge back onto Spock, Spock held him tightly so he couldn't move. He continued to taunt Jim, inserting the tip of his penis and pulling it out, again and again.

"Damn-it, Spock! I'm going to kill you if you don't stop torturing me!"

Spock's only response was to slide as deeply as possible into Jim's body as Jim gave a loud grunt of satisfaction. Spock withdrew and thrust again and again and again. He reached around Jim to stroke the Human's erection. Sweat dripped off of his forehead onto Jim's back.

Moaning frantically, Spock rammed himself into Jim so hard that Jim's entire body slipped forward on the bed. The unexpected weight on Jim's back caused one of the Human's arms to give way and he was pitched face first into the abandoned pillow.

Not that it mattered to Jim. He hovered at the edge for what could have been a second or a year until the molten liquid the Vulcan shot into him sent him crashing over the precipice of orgasm.

The external world finally righted itself. Jim tried to extricate himself from under the dead weight of his suddenly boneless Vulcan.

"Move, Spock."

Spock rolled heavily off of Jim, wiping sweat from his forehead. Jim smiled; he loved knowing that he was the only person who could make Spock sweat.

"Jim…. " Spock sighed loudly.

Jim shinnied out of the thong, which was still down around his thighs. He held up the scrap of red fabric and grinned mischievously at his bedmate.

"I know; that was amazing, huh? That's one hell of a gift you gave me. Remind me to wear it under my uniform one day."

"I don't think that would be wise, t'hy'la. It would be most difficult for me to conduct myself in a professional capacity if I knew you were wearing that garment on the bridge. And I seriously doubt you could refrain from teasing me if that situation should arise."

"We're just a couple of seriously horny studs."

"Indeed. Thank you, Jim."

"For what?"

"For making this occasion so memorable."

"You're welcome."

Suddenly the ship wide intercom burst to life with Uhura's lovely voice singing an ancient song of love and joy.

"It's Christmas, Spock."

"Merry Christmas, t'hy'la."

"Merry Christmas, love."


~The End~

Firefly - Simon

by Moonloon

FANTASY

Highlander - Darius/Methos

Author: Unovis
Title: Mud, Mead, and Lice
Rating: R
Pairing: Darius/Methos
Show: Highlander
Date of publication: December
Disclaimer: Characters and universe not my invention, all rights belonging to Davis-Panzer; no profit made from this work
Feedback address: unovis@gmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Note: This is how Brother Mathieu, the priest's man, came to the village; more stories, god willing, will come

+++
Mud, Mead, and Lice
+++

It was the eve of Christmas and an inconvenient time for death: first the priest's mule, and then the miller, though the mule had the grace to expire in the stable, before noon. The miller, God rest his mean and prickly soul, lingered into the small hours of the frigid night, and his distracted son bowed the priest out without so much as a cup of broth to warm his way. As he limped home over frozen mud, under a meager moon, Father Darius composed a homily on the seven acts of charity. Eighth would surely be Offer the poor priest a hot drink, for the love of Michael's flaming sword. A stoup of mulled wine and the loan of a horse and a clay pot with a coal in it to warm his hands on, and maybe a scarf knitted by the wife's own sweet hands... The thought of the miller's son's wife's hands and feet and sparkling eye kept him company the rest of the long walk across the stubbled fields. He was just considering the nape of the good wife's neck when he reached the rectory garden wall that marked the edge of holy ground. Sanctuary, home, and a fire, at last.

He lifted the old iron pike barring the garden gate. Halfway up the path to the low stone house beside the church, he felt it: a strum on his senses, a buzz. It was holy ground, it was winter; the gardening tools were stowed away and not even a pointed stick lay at hand. He straightened his spine and, stepping softly, pulled the latchstring and opened the door. Someone had unbanked the fire and added wood. Someone had pulled out a loaf and a jar of mead. Someone had climbed into his bed and was wrapped in his best wool blanket, snoring like a dog. A long, white leg lay exposed outside the blanket, skinny, blue-veined, and cold. The knee was dirty. The heel was cracked. A louse crept across the ankle; Darius grimaced and caught it in a pinch. He cracked it between his nails, with a perfunctory apology to the god of such small things. He'd dice with his soul on the matter another time -- he had a bigger dilemma on his hands.

Methos, in his house, in his bed, unshaven, unshod, unshriven, and, apparently, verminous.

Darius sighed and took off his cloak. The blanket would have to be smoked, and the mud – and surely those blacker smears were blood – dried and brushed from the bedding. The man would need care, as well. But let sleeping dogs lie. He wasn't tired enough to crawl into bed with that tonight. He prodded the fire. The hearthstone was warm and inviting compared to the chair, but custom won out. He poured himself a cup of mead, and pulled the chair over to sit by his bed, as he'd sat by so many others, to keep watch over his old friend.

In some distress, or he wouldn't be here. In some need, from the state of him. You could have written me, Darius thought. Their last argument hadn't been that bad; about politics, of all things, Church politics. For all the great and lesser sins they'd committed and forgiven each other, to divide over money -- A knot in the firewood cracked, spewing sparks. It was more than fifty years since they'd talked, face to face.

Methos stopped snoring, but slept on. Now he was tight mouthed, with a deathgrip on the blanket. The familiar lines of his face were sharper. A dagger hilt jutted from under the pillow. The sword would be somewhere close to hand; Darius wondered what it took for a barefoot traveler to keep a thing of value and station like that. Methos always managed his arms, with money, without. He kept rubies in the hilt bindings, once upon a time. He had resources, if he could reach them. Darius smiled. He has me.

Darius watched until the fire burned low and the room was lost to shadows. He nodded. He dreamed vividly for 10 seconds, of rubies lying in the hollow of an ivory throat, then snapped awake. He looked toward the bed, where he could just make out the edge of Methos's face. He stared, straining to see that throat again. And from the dark, came a voice:

"Are you looking at me?"

Darius started. "Pardon?"

"Are your eyes open?"

It was the same old magic, a little roughened, but still melting in his ears.

"I know your eyes. I know what color they are in the dark. By moonlight. By candle. By fire."

Darius heard a shift of the sheet, a brush of hair against the pillowslip.

"I know how they look and how they feel, in the dark. On me."

"Be quiet, devil."

"Be merciful, Father."

"It's mercy you've come for? Mercy of my food and blanket. And a bath tomorrow, if you have to break the ice in the well."

"Mercy of your bed and all that should be in it."

"Keep company with your own lice. Whose blood is that?"

A grin, in the shadows. His night vision was growing stronger, or false dawn was here. It was too bitter cold for the birds to give warning. Darius could see the devil sit up and shiver.

"Not mine, Father. Thanks for your concern."

"Yours would be no cause for pity. Have you killed on my doorstep, or led an enemy here?"

"You're in no danger." The grin in the dark, again, but deep cuts along its sides. "Pax, Father. I killed a sheep."

"Liar."

"A goat, then. A chicken. Something without a soul and of no consequence, whose ghost won't haunt the village – Darius, please, come to bed." He opened the blanket on nakedness, on flesh that gleamed in the half-light. Thin, Lord, but still good and familiar, and sweet to hold... A tiny spark flashed against one thigh and the devil laughed. "The lice won't mind."

"They'll set fire to the blanket." It was an old temptation, one Darius had admitted and made his own, centuries ago. If it was a sin, it was a domestic one, and of no danger to the living world. It was a passing vice, as well, here today to drink from the font of his flesh and forgiveness and gone tomorrow with the warming sun.

"And bring the mead."

He'll stay the week, this time, Darius vowed. And took up the pottle and let loose his robe, to reap and spend his Christmas reward.

++End++

FANTASY

Real Ghostbusters - Peter/Egon

Author: Downdilly
Title: Snow Falling Softly
Date: Dec 6th 
Fandom: Real Ghostbusters/Fantasy (but should maybe be in Animated?)
Pairing: Peter/Egon. Ish.
Rating: G
Summary: Christmas is a time for family.
Disclaimer: Real Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters belong to Harold Ramis, Dan Ackroyd, and…DIC (I think).
Feedback address: downdilly@downdilly.com (Yes, there is a website attached)
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: A bunch of implied stuff. Like het. And old age. And death. And slash.
Note 2: For Sharakh. Cause I haven't forgotten or given up yet.
Beta: My evil twin Skippy. Even if she does switch my shampoo for that generic schtuff.

Snow Falling Softly

Laughter rang through the second floor of Ghostbusters Central. Built from a dozen voices from seven to seventy, it bounced off the walls, rattled a few select panes of glass and spun twice around the firepole before echoing up the stairs and outside through the skylight. A gust of wind caught it and swirled it around before passing it along to dance with the snow ever-present in December.

Peter grinned from his perch in the stairwell; close enough to hear and see without intruding on the gathering below. Movement from the kitchen door caught his attention, attracted by the young woman bearing a tray of glasses of a dozen shapes and sizes. Scavenged from the cupboards to accommodate the entire crowd was Peter's guess.

His eyes scanned the crowd, noting who was there and who wasn't, new faces next to old in a comfortable array.

Winston, of course, gray hair and a few more wrinkles showing his age but his stance still that of a much younger man. He sat in the place of honor in "his" easy chair. His smile and laugh were freer this year than last, Peter noticed. Nicole had passed to the other side a little over two years ago; Ray had stood with Winston at the end while Peter and Egon did their best to make her transition easy.

The four Zeddemore boys were all there, along with three wives, nine assorted grandchildren, and of course the Twins, Keshia and Tanika, first great-grandchildren of the brood. Matt said something that set off another wave of laughter while he picked up a glass from the tray now resting on the coffee table. His wife's answer sent up an even louder shout of glee, and Matthew retired to the window ledge, lifting his glass in salute.

Soft footsteps and the rustle of cloth from behind him made Peter turn his head just as Janine Stantz stepped slowly down the stairs. Back straight and head high, still she gripped the rail tightly, careful of every tread as she made her way back to the family warmth in the common room. 

He watched her pause on the step below him and tug her sweater a little tighter around her, shivering from a sudden chill in the warm room.

"Janine," Peter whispered after her, willing her to turn around even though she hadn't answered him for almost twenty years now.

"Peter," Egon's bass rumbled behind him, and Peter caught the slight startle from their former secretary before she shook herself and continued her decent.

"Figures," Peter muttered before turning his head and smiling up at his physicist. He patted the step next to him, pleased when Egon folded his long legs and rested next to him. "How's Ray?"

"Resting comfortably," Egon answered, leaning against Peter for a few minutes while he quietly took in the scene below. "Winston's looking well," he said finally. "And look at Jacob, walking already," he added, gesturing at the curly-haired infant staggering determinedly towards the stairs.

"I bet Janine looked just like that, at that age," Peter mused, "with the hair and skin and all." He shot a look over to where Janine was taking her place at one end of the couch, a jelly glass full of sparkling cider in one hand. "Except for the curls, of course."

Egon hissed next to him, grabbing Peter's wrist. "Peter! Look!" He pointed to the toddler who'd successfully reached the stairs and now sat suddenly on the floor with a squeal and a thump that only some hefty padding made painless.

Peter followed Egon's line and locked eyes with Janine's youngest grandchild. "Egon, he's looking at us!"

"I believe so. Fascinating."

Then, in an unprecedented display of social awareness and pre-verbal communication, Egon Spengler stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes, sending the boy into a fit of burbling laughter that ended with hiccups. Round eyes watched them while the boy tried to cope with the experience.

Struck dumb, Peter could do nothing but stare at his long time companion, then he chuckled. "Egon! You...fraud!"

"True science uses all available tools, Peter," he answered loftily. "Jacob laughed, ergo he saw me to laugh at me. Theory proven."

Metal tapping glass pulled both of them back to look at the crowd slowly rising to its feet, younger helping older and older rounding up children. Young Master Collins was swept into his mother's arms and over her shoulder to rejoin the festivities. On the stairs, Peter and Egon rose as well, Peter leaning on the banister and Egon wrapping an arm around him and pulling Peter in for a tight hug.

The pair received a second shock when Winston's eyes met theirs instead of passing over them as they had so many times, and a slight smile crossed the aging man's face while he mouthed, "Soon."

Winston stood straight in the center of the room and let his eyes sweep across the extended family forty years of life and love had given him before he returned his gaze to two of his oldest friends, standing in the shadows and frozen in the year they'd left him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Winston said solemnly, raising his glass and making sure all eyes were on him while never looking away from the pair on the steps. "Who ya gonna call?"

"GHOSTBUSTERS!"

The glad cry and shouts and cheers built by twenty-some voices followed the trail blazed by laughter to drift over the city and fall softly with the snow. And if a Brooklyn tenor and an Ohio bass blended with them, well, that was only as it should be.

END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Remus Lupin/Percy Weasley

Title: Chocolate Santa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Percy Weasley
Summary: Percy wants a special first Christmas with his lover.
Show/Book: Harry Potter
Date of publication: Dec. 6
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters don't belong to me.
Feedback address: esmithee at yahoo.com
Beta: Many thanks to Chillie!
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note/Warning: Slash, food sex, pure fluff, established relationship. A standalone in my Remus/Percy "Dream a Little Dream" universe.

CHOCOLATE SANTA

"Father Christmas? You're taking this very seriously, aren't you?"

Percy moved the pompom out of his eyes and frowned. "Of course I'm taking this seriously, Remus. It's our first Christmas together. I want it to be perfect."

"Percy..." Remus crossed the room to take his lover of eight months into his arms. "The simple fact that we're together makes this Christmas perfect. You don't have to go all out."

"I want to," Percy said, becoming breathless as Remus nuzzled his neck. "I want to show you what you mean to me. "And now," he whispered, "it's time to open your present."

Remus pulled back and gave Percy that lopsided smile that always made his heart skip a beat. "All right."

Percy stood perfectly still as Remus' hands moved to his throat and started to unfasten the buttons of Percy's costume. He shivered whenever one of his lover's fingers brushed his bare skin under the coat, barely able to contain his excitement and anticipation of Remus' reaction when he saw what Percy looked like underneath.

Finally, Remus pushed it off Percy's shoulders and drew in a sharp breath.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"It's chocolate."

"Mmm hmm."

"And it extends...?"

"Everywhere."

Remus' eyes widened and then a wide smile of delight lit up his face. Closing his eyes, he sighed and inhaled deeply.

"You smell good enough to eat."

"That was the general idea."

"Mmmm."

Percy bit back a moan as Remus licked his collarbone, lapping up the thin layer of chocolate he'd spent hours brushing onto his skin. Percy squirmed under the ministrations of Remus' tongue.

"Be still," his lover said. "Chocolate Santas are inanimate."

Percy squeaked, but remained motionless as Remus made short work of the chocolate on his shoulders and upper arms. His muscles tensed under the strain of not reacting to the quick flicks and long licks, soft, wet teasing nibbles, and rough, wide swipes. He tried not to giggle as Remus' tongue tickled the sensitive hollow on the inside of his elbow and then licked a wet trail down to his hands, squatting down to take Percy's fingers into his mouth, one after the other, sucking them clean as he stared up into Percy's eyes.

His cock was nigh on bursting, tenting the trousers of his costume and just barely nudging Remus' sternum. He prayed that Remus would take the hint, divest him of his trousers, and 'wolf' him down, but Remus had other ideas.

Remus made a show of ignoring Percy's erection, rubbing up against it as he arose. Licking the chocolate from his lips, he circled Percy to examine his handiwork.

"You shaved?"

Percy made a face. "Sticky chocolate and chest hair? Ugh."

"Did you shave... <I>everywhere</I>?"

Percy nodded, apprehensive of Remus' reaction, relaxing when his lover chuckled.

"Your family should have called you Pervert Percy, not Perfect Percy."

"Don't mention <I>them</I> now of all times."

"You never cease to amaze me," Remus said with pleased grin. Then he leaned forward and pulled one of Percy's nipples into his mouth, sucking it to a hard peak. Percy cried out and arched into the touch. Remus pulled away and gave him a stern look.

"I said to be still," Remus said, steel in his voice. "Or I'll have to use the switches."

"Switches?"

"Father Christmas brings coal and switches to bad little boys."

"But <I>I'm</I> Father Christmas," Percy protested weakly. "And I forgot the switches," he confessed.

"I didn't. They're in your stocking."

"Oh!"

"We'll get to them later. Now, be quiet, I'd like to eat in peace. This is your last warning, Percy."

Percy held still as Remus continued, moving behind Percy to trace his shoulder blades with his tongue and lick his way down Percy's spine to the small of his back, dwelling on that one spot that always made Percy almost insane with lust. Percy remained steadfast through it all, thankful for once in his life for his slight build and small frame. He was certain he'd never survive this sweet torture if he had been a larger man.

By the time Remus had finished his back, pushing down Percy's costume trousers to tongue the top of the crease between his arse cheeks, just a quick tease to give Percy false hopes, Percy's legs were quivering. Only the thought of the switches biting into his soft skin, sensitised by the earlier application of the heated chocolate, made him persevere.

Remus returned his attention to Percy's nipples, laving them and gnawing off the chocolate where it had started to harden in places, until they were as swollen and hard as his cock. He made short shrift of Percy's chest and stomach, quickening his pace, no doubt as impatient as Percy to get to the 'main event.' As Remus got closer to the goal, however, he slowed again, pushing down Percy's waistband with excruciating slowness, taking care to lavish every centimetre of skin that he exposed.

Finally, he seemed to be able to take it no longer and tugged down Percy's trousers with a jerk, holding them as Percy stepped out of them before tossing them aside. He clicked his tongue as Percy followed the arc of their flight with a slight frown.

"Not now. Now we're having fun. Later you can tidy up and clean all you like."

Percy sighed wistfully and then bit back a moan as Remus suddenly stroked his smooth legs.

"Hmm," he said. "I'd love to see these in silk stockings. If I'd known about this, I would have put kohl in your stocking as well."

"Coal?" Percy asked in puzzlement.

"Eyeliner," Remus said, looking into Percy's eyes with a smouldering glance.

Percy breath caught in his throat. He'd never considered dressing up like a woman before, but if the mere thought of it brought out that look in Remus' eyes, it would be well worth it.

He yelped in surprise when Remus attacked his legs, licking like a man possessed, from the juncture of his thighs to his knees, from his knees to his ankles, and then carefully cleaning his feet and suckling one toe after another. Finally, only one area was left that Remus hadn't so much as touched.

Remus moved behind Percy and cleaned the chocolate off his arse with long, wide licks. Starting at the top of Percy's crack, he worked his way down, pausing to tease and probe his hole, before continuing on down to his perineum. Then he scooted around to kneel in front of his lover, looking up at him with a sly glance as he stroked the shaved skin around his cock and balls.

Remus gingerly lifted Percy's cock out of the way and sucked one back and then the other into his mouth, laving both until Percy was keening with pleasure, his fingers entwined in Remus' hair. Then he placed his tongue along the underside and licked up the shaft, stopping just short of the glans, repeating the procedure until the entire shaft of Percy's prick was clean. Then, and only then did he actually touch the glans, pushing back the foreskin to get at the chocolate hiding there and then licking around the rim and the head.

Percy was shivering uncontrollably, his erection hard and leaking as Remus licked off the last bit of chocolate from the tip, stopping just as Percy was about to come. He whimpered in protest as Remus gathered him up in his arms and lowered him to the floor, laying him down on the rug before the fire.

Remus stood and quickly shrugged of his chocolate-smeared clothing and then joined Percy on the rug. He rolled onto Percy, holding him down while his hands roamed over the younger man's body. Percy twisted and writhed, his body sticky and slick from saliva and sweat and the remnants of chocolate. Remus broke off the kiss and pushed himself upright, looking down at Percy, his eyes wide and wild and wolflike, reflecting the glowing embers of the fire. Grabbing his wand, he uttered a lubrication spell and began to stroke Percy's cock.

"Now let's pretend I'm the Christmas goose."

Percy gave Remus a questioning look and then gasped in understanding as the older man gingerly lowered himself onto his erection before answering Percy's unvoiced query.

"Stuff me."

END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

The Gift of the Yuletide by Altaira (Part one of four)

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: witch
Title: Yuletide Gift
Rating: PG13 or less
Pairing: SS/HP
Summary: Severus gives Harry's a most desired gift.
Show: Harry Potter
Date of publication: December 6, 2004
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Feedback address: witch_is_in@email.it 
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Note: Mpreg, fluffy, nothing grafic.
Beta: Amanda Claudine

Yuletide Gift

Eyes,
I'm really crazy for eyes.
The first thing I look for in a person are the eyes.
I always did ...
Do you think it is just a coincidence that my husband has the most famous eyes in the whole wizarding world?
No, not really.

His eyes are really fascinating ones, you must admit it.
A deep green rarely seen in human race, his mother's eyes ...

I am the one who has seen them at their best.

Filled with love the fist time we shared a bed .. and our bodies.

Filled with rage when Voldemort stroke his last curse to me, the final move to push Harry over the edge; and finally, getting him angry enough to spoke aloud those two words and rid us all of the Dark Lord .

Filled with surprise when he found himself at our own wedding, without knowing about it, being brought along by my godson and best man ... Draco did use all his ability to fool Harry around, taking him for a shopping race without spilling a single hint of why they *needed* a new dress robe. Then, apparating both of them at the end of the aisle, ready to walk towards me ... stunned and happy, shining eyes filled of emotions too deep to be named aloud .


Filled with tears at our wedding ceremony, tears born from his ultimate joy.

Now I'm looking at his eyes again, they're filled with a new kind of love and happiness,
and I know I'm the one who has given him the gift he longed for all his life.

It is Yuletide, or Christmas as Muggles call it. It doesn't matter the name, it is the celebration of Light upon Darkness.

The time people exchange gifts.

The time to celebrate with family.

The time to *be* a family.

From now on, we will be a family in the full meaning of this blessed word.

Because I love you more than life itself.

Because you love me with all your golden heart.

Because we are powerful wizards.

Because a new life is blooming in me, fruit of you and me.

A child.

Our child.

The living proof of our love, of our strength, of our mutual trust.

Why trust?

The one who needs to ask this is a poor instructed wizard.

Only the deepest trust in his partner will ever allow a wizard to procreate. Male pregnancy is really dangerous and the bearing one will need all the support his partner can provide. I am sure Harry will be at my side all the time.

I trust him.

That's why I have been able to conceive our child.

My gift to him.

My gift to us both.

My pledge of faith in a better world, a world where children will grow up safe, without fearing Death Eaters or the Dark Lord.

Thank you my beloved husband.

Happy Yuletide to you all!

Be Blessed!

END

MOVIEVERSE

X-Men - Charles/Erik

Author: Nick
Title: A New Beginning
Date: TBA
Fandom: X-Men / Movieverse
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Charles Xavier dreads the loneliness of Christmastime and so, apparently, does Erik Lensherr. Will Erik's unannounced arrival at the mansion on Christmas Eve prove to be a relieving distraction or an unwelcome reminder of what they've lost?
Disclaimer: Marvel owns the comics, somebody who isn't me owns the movies, and I own this story. Money is not involved anywhere.
Feedback address: plan9channel7@witty.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/pompadour_slim/
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: The title sucks but that's my absolute Achilles' heel, so we're going to live with it.

A NEW BEGINNING

Charles Xavier had come, in recent years, to dread Christmas. It wasn't just the difficulty of keeping his dead legs warm and well-circulated in the winter, or the emptiness of the mansion while most of the students were away visiting family or taking over ski resorts in large numbers. It was the isolation. Charles felt a little bit lonely a lot of the time, but he dwelt on it rarely. Being surrounded by misfits with their own existential problems - for which they often sought his counsel - was helpful, in that way. He was needed and driven, and happiness, like sadness, came and went. There was a certain kind of balance to it all.

But Christmas was different. He could still feel his children in his mind, when he reached out, but instead of making him feel less alone it amplified that feeling. So much everyday worry was left behind during the holidays, in favor of embracing the spirit of the season, and it was inexplicably difficult for Charles to endure their contentment. When he reached out to the others, the scattered, fearful others, he found that their negative moods were amplified and he was ill-equipped to deal with their pain. They were outsiders, and the holiday season, when everyone else seemed to be warm and happy, was the time of year that they most wished to be 'like everybody else'. His strong identification with that feeling made it necessary for him to shut himself off as completely as he could. He didn't need to encourage their melancholy or his.

Looking out the window of his study was like looking into a film. The lawn was vast and white, rolling and hilly as it wasn't at any other time, and the snow-dusted trees could have been deliberately situated. Xavier entertained fleeting fantasies of tearing off through the snow on strong legs, crunching it down with feet that still filled some purpose, of falling over and laughing in the cold, wet sugar. There was a time, shortly after his accident, when such a fantasy might have torn him to anguished pieces, but now it was no more painful than if he'd imagined himself soaring over the city on wings made of colorful Christmas tissue paper. There were things he could do and things he couldn't do, and there, too, he had found some sense of balance.

Still gazing out the window but no longer seeing, Charles wondered when he would adjust to his isolation as he had adjusted to his injury. He had been paralyzed for longer than he had been alone, but his adjustment to the former had happened so much more quickly. But, then, he had had Erik to help him through it. Exhaling, Xavier took hold of his wheelchair wheels and prepared to turn around, to find something else to do or think about. He knew better than to let himself get maudlin. As he was considering whether reading or watching television - something he only indulged in when the children weren't around to see him do it - might distract him better, a deep voice hedged apart the silence behind him.

"What are you thinking of, Charles?"

"Erik." Xavier deftly rotated his wheelchair so that he could face the intruder he ought to have detected before then. There was blankness in his mind as he looked at the tall figure, clad in casual, smart black, but when Erik eased out of his protective helmet a flood of knowing washed over Charles. He blinked at it, at the tender angst that always accompanied the presence of Erik's mind near his, and he withdrew his consciousness to a respectful distance. The other mutant could be jealously private about his mind, sometimes.

"Gratifying, considering that I was thinking of you." With a small, mirthless but not unkind smile, Erik strode over to lay his helmet on Xavier's desk and glance over his head toward the window. In the old days Charles had loved to have Erik physically near to him, their strong telepathic bond notwithstanding, but now he felt towered over, condescended to. It wasn't his infirmity that made him feel that way; he took no issue with looking up to speak to Jean or Ororo, or even Logan, but he knew that height was something Erik made a habit of using to his psychological advantage. Perhaps he didn't even realize he did it to Charles, or perhaps he made a point to do it to him. Xavier never really knew without cheating, and cheating was something he never considered. Not with Erik.

"How did you get in?" Refusing to crane his neck to see his visitor's face, Charles folded his hands in his lap and watched the fire burning in the fireplace across the room.

"You should think of installing a plastic alarm system. But, then, perhaps you have a maniacal mutant ex-lover with particular domain over plastics hidden away somewhere." A black gloved, long-fingered hand on Xavier's shoulder, and then, "I used Raven to get past the retinal scanners on this floor." Now Charles did look up; he couldn't help it. His dark brows knitted themselves together as he searched the pale face of his ex-lover, a face that was lined with determination even when it was relaxed in sleep.

"Does Raven know that you see her that way? As a tool?" It was a strange thing for him to want to know, perhaps, under the circumstances, but when Erik insisted on erecting his facade of icy indifference Charles invariably felt the urge to dissolve it with gentle logic. Over the years it had grown into something like a compulsion. The silver-haired mutant made a gruff sound, perhaps a snort or an aborted chuckle, and stepped away from Xavier to stand in the center of the room. Folding his gloved hands at the small of his back, Erik arched in that painful, overly erect posture he sometimes adopted that was, though few realized it, a dark mockery of the German soldiers who had terrorized him in his youth.

"She is well aware of what she is to me."

"And what is she, Erik?" Almost unconsciously, Charles wheeled himself forward a few inches, until his ex-lover filled his vision and blocked out all but the strange orange aura the licking flames from the fireplace encircled him with. Choosing that moment to turn, Erik pivoted smoothly to face Xavier, his eyes dark and intent.

"She is... not you."

When the tall, silver-haired mutant whom Charles Xavier had once been very close to considering his husband took two long steps forward and leaned down to clutch possessively at the arms of his wheelchair, the telepath had to stifle a gasp. His brows jerked upward and he shifted where he sat but remained otherwise composed. Holding his gaze willfully, Erik trailed gloved fingers over the knot of Charles' silk tie before fitting one into a fold and tugging slightly. Xavier swallowed and the control he had over his own power slipped for a moment, just long enough to soak him in Erik's longing. It was the most surface of his emotions, almost impossible for Charles not to hear at this distance and at this intensity. The telepath shuddered with the force of it and dug his fingertips into the arms of his wheelchair.

"Erik, I don't know what you think --"

"Yes you do, Charles," Erik purred, tugging again at Xavier's tie and letting it slip onto the hardwood floor of the telepath's study when he had freed it completely. "You know exactly what I think I'm doing." Shirt buttons came undone, slowly, and Charles could only stare at his ex-lover. He tried to feel indignant. He tried to disapprove. He tried to be anything other than fiercely, desperately, embarrassingly aroused.

"I won't forgive you for this," Xavier breathed as the gloves slipped off so that a warm, long-fingered hand could tease its way inside his shirt.

"But you'll do it." Erik's voice was a murmur, almost drowned out by Charles' gasp of objection to those clever fingers' having found his left nipple and pulled, hard, just like old times. The telepath moaned outright when his other nipple was treated in a similar fashion, and he was mortified to feel his typically dormant cock swelling pointedly. Smiling with muted triumph, Erik leaned in to kiss him. Xavier's heart seized for a moment at the thought of the other mutant's thin lips on his and of the way that delicious, painfully missed act would rob him of even the desire to resist. But the kiss landed dryly, almost chastely, on his high cheekbone and he exhaled gustily.

"Yes," Charles found the voice to whisper. "But I won't forgive you."

"Why?" Erik grunted with something like irritation as he reached down matter-of-factly to cup Xavier through his slacks. The telepath hardly had to time to react, hardly had to time register the way his body arched and his stomach flared with erotic pleasure before there was a silky murmur in his ear again. "You want it, or you wouldn't do it."

"Of course I want it." Charles closed his eyes and set his jaw, taking the time he needed to be sure that he was in relatively little danger of thrusting wantonly into Erik's hand. He was in some degree assisted by the unresponsiveness of his legs, but he had learned to circumvent that weakness so well that the threat was very real. When he opened his eyes, finally satisfied with the measure of his self-control, he lifted his face to meet his ex-lover's gaze with as much serenity as he could muster. "Because I'm still in love with you." Erik frowned at him and pulled away abruptly, glancing over the room with a frustrated crinkle in his brow.

"And what do you think of me, Charles? Do you think I'm only here 'to get my dick wet', as Victor says? You don't think I can manage that on my own?"

Of course he could manage on his own. Erik was tall and striking, confident and handsome, if somewhat advanced in years, and Xavier had no doubt that Raven tended to his need as often as he let her. He was also driven, obsessed, and likely found as little time for physical concerns as Charles did. But even if he did sometimes go on the prowl, as it were, a paraplegic telepath who was almost certain to reject him seemed an unlikely target.

So why did the whole situation have an air of detached seduction about it? And then the tightly hinged gate between wanting to know and trying to find out slipped. Erik felt it almost immediately, and turned to glare murderously at him, but Charles was already pulling his mind back and trying to forget what he'd felt. The telepath's ex-lover, usually so controlled and comfortable in his isolation, wanted him terribly and in ways that had nothing to do with sex.

"Erik, I'm --"

"Forget it, Charles," Erik spat, his strong nostrils flaring. "This was a mistake."

"Erik, what are you afraid of?" Xavier asked quickly, wheeling himself forward when the silver-haired mutant looked as though he might make for the door. Erik didn't respond immediately, and they stared at each other across still, dead air. Even time seemed to wait for them, and the longer they remained that way the more Charles entertained the fantasy, in the back of his mind, that they were frozen, that they couldn't move if they wanted to.

"I am not," Erik began suddenly, his accent ironically highlighted by careful enunciation, "afraid." The air was still again as Xavier weighed the pros and cons of pushing his ex-lover further in this vein. That the magnetic mutant was proud was something that a younger Charles Xavier had chosen to learn the hard way. How many times had he said the wrong thing, knowing it would anger Erik but determined to show him the folly of his pride? How many times had he killed a romantic mood or brought a frenzy of scientific brilliance to a halt with his stubborn insistence on vulnerability? Too many times.

"I didn't mean to imply that you were using me... or perhaps I did and I shouldn't have... but I can't know what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes you can!" Erik folded his arms over his chest in a frustrated, self-protective gesture and stared blazingly at Xavier's chin.

"That was an accident, Erik, and for the record, I'm not the only one of us who sometimes has... lapses."

They swallowed almost simultaneously at the memory of Erik, in fiery rapture as he came inside Charles, mangling their antique cast-iron headboard nearly beyond his own ability to repair. For Xavier the image was made so vivid it was almost tangible by the psychic powers he was tenaciously trying to direct away from Erik's mind, which fairly cried out to be heard.

Coincidentally, or perhaps cruelly, it had happened on a Christmas Eve at the mansion years ago. Charles and Erik had recently returned from a physics conference, two young men full of ideas and hope and acutely aware of the beginning of a new era in their work together.

Erik had never been easy to lure away from Cerebro, but the sense of being just on the edge of some glorious breakthrough had narrowed his tunnel vision so tightly that his companion had decided to take extreme measures. That Charles Xavier had it in him to be seductive, even coquettish, was a truth lost in time, but on that Christmas Eve those years ago it thrived.


---


After an hour of trying to entice Erik away from their mechanical child, Charles had pretended to go to bed. It had hurt a little when his industrious, single-minded lover had shooed him gently away and promised to "be right there". He wouldn't, if Charles knew him at all, come to bed until he was so tired that he had to cheat a bit and use his electromagnetic powers to keep himself upright on the way. Rather than take the disinterest personally, though, Xavier determined to use it his advantage.

The telepath took his time getting undressed and putting his clothes away. He and Erik were both extremely fastidious, and, like Erik, Charles preferred not to put off until later any unpleasant chore he might do then. More than that, though, Xavier wanted to give his lover time to relax and let his guard down. The silver-haired mutant was alone with Cerebro, tinkering and calculating, and becoming accustomed to his freedom from distraction. Good.

Charles got himself into bed with little difficulty - he was getting better and better at doing things for himself these days - and lay back, rolling his shoulders and letting the comfortable softness of their sheets relax him. He thought of Erik, without thinking at him. He thought of the last time they had made love, and of the first time, with its fumbling sweetness and uncomfortable illusion of emotional danger. Smiling faintly to himself, he tilted his smooth head back into pillow and stroked himself very gently. He would require just the right combination of arousal and contentment.

He thought of Erik's cock - long and proud like the silver-haired mutant himself - and of what it felt like to be so full of it that he could hardly control his own mind. In the early days it had been a real concern that Charles might, in his insensible bliss, reach out with his powers in a way neither of them could predict. Now, though, it only added to the edge to realize that sex between them *almost* had that power.

Xavier was hardening quickly in his own hand now, and he reached down hastily to tug his thighs apart. After he had posed himself a bit, spreading his legs and arching his back, he closed his eyes and called down the hall to Erik with his mind.

//Erik...//

//I'm almost finished, Charles.//

The telepath licked his lips and parted them slightly, and his eyelids fluttered as he sent Erik a visual image of himself as he was, spread out on the bed with long fingers wrapped around his erection, waiting.

//Charles, what --//

//Look at me, Erik... Look.//

//I see you.//

Erik's mind jerked, struggled gropingly between his calculations and the lust Charles' telepathic image had elicited. There was irritation, too, but it faded when Xavier pushed ahead, letting his lover watch in his mind as the telepath's hand found the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand.

//What are you doing?//

//Can't you guess?//

Charles thumbed the bottle open and dangled it teasingly between the first two fingers of his free hand as the other went on stroking, stroking, so slowly along the length of his cock.

//I don't want to guess.//

//Would you rather watch?//

Feeling Erik's irritation rise up again, Xavier released his erection and lubricated his fingers quickly, letting the bottle fall over his pale, lean thigh as he reached down to press at his entrance with slick fingertips.

"Ohhhh," Charles moaned softly, echoing the sound in his mind so that Erik could hear as he breached the tight muscle as well as he could without being able to raise his hips. Twisting on the bed, he left off stroking himself to pull at his thigh in an effort to find a more appropriate angle. Still, only the first joints of his lubricated fingers could manage any semblance of penetration.

//Charles...//

//Erik... I can't reach... I need you...//

Four thuds sounded outside in the hallway, each one closer than the last, before the bedroom door flew open to bang jarringly against the wall. Xavier's heart lurched in his chest and his body stilled at the sound, and at the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette in the doorway. In the time that he had known Erik, the silver-haired mutant had shown himself to be full of rage, meticulously tamped down but not altogether exempt from the occasional disastrous slip. Charles didn't think that he had crossed any of Erik's lines, but the possibility always hung in the back of his mind.

"I am sorry, Charles," Erik breathed from across the room. "Cerebro is nothing. You are everything." Xavier barely had time to relax before the bed was shuddering with the impact of his lover's sturdy body and his legs were being lifted and pressed back against his chest. Blindly, as his head tilted further into the pillow and his breath roughened, the telepath grabbed for the lubricant. A zipper grunted loudly in the near silence, and as soon as Charles had filled his hand with cool, clear gel, Erik's cock, always hot and already so hard, pressed insistently into his palm. Its owner made no sound, but caressed him possessively around the middle and across his chest, where he could feel it.

"Now..." Xavier arched his back and tried to fumble the slick cock in his hand toward the entrance to his body. With a teasing grunt, Erik pulled agonizingly at one of the telepath's nipples while he took his own erection in a firm, knowing grip. Groaning, Charles gave up trying to think clearly or control his lover and simply waited. Waited to be filled. Waited to be taken. Waited to be reminded that Erik wanted more from him than a research partner.

"You want it." It wasn't a question, but as the blunt, wet tip of Erik's cock pressed against him, Xavier heard himself moan an answer.

"Yes... Please, Erik... Please... Ohhhh..." Charles' body went rigid and his eyes stared, wide and unseeing. The burning stretch of tight muscles bloomed into pleasure when it reached his stomach, and Erik didn't stop pushing forward until he was completely sheathed inside the telepath's body.

"You have it," Erik murmured, uncharacteristically tender as he leaned over to kiss Xavier's lips very softly. Charles loved to kiss but Erik preferred to avoid it when he could, which made the warm, delicious brush of the silver-haired mutant's mouth on his that much more compelling.

"I love you," Charles breathed into the kiss, knowing he shouldn't, as Erik began to move inside him. The friction ate at his lucidity, made him ache and burn and want to ignite even as he feared ignition.

"Charles..." Erik was whispering in his ear, gripping his shoulders from underneath and thrusting harder, filling him and touching him so deeply. Knowing that he was loved was almost enough, at times like this, that he didn't have to hear it. The throb of Erik's cock invading his body over and over, of his own muscles groping desperately to keep it there, Erik's warm breath on his face and his soft, tender grunts were almost enough. "Charles... I..."

"It's all right, Erik," Xavier managed to get out before a well-angled thrust gutted him with a hot, violent implosion of pleasure, had him moaning and shuddering and writhing in Erik's big hands. "You don't... have to..." he carried on between groans, trying to say the right thing, trying to fight through a mind-numbing haze of need and fulfillment to give his lover what he needed.

"But I do, Charles!" Erik was almost sobbing now, not tearfully, but with the painful joy of being so close and holding back. He never came first, ever, though he nearly always reached the precipice first. It was another silent, discreet sweetness that Erik bestowed on Charles, another detail that made verbal reassurance unnecessary. And then another thrust, one perfect shot out of one hundred, rubbed Xavier exactly the right way inside and the telepath came. Almost as soon as the first hot, wet spurts leaped up to anoint their chests, at the very edge of his bliss-exploded consciousness Charles heard Erik grunt, felt his lover's hips jerk, and felt his own body filled and burned joyfully with Erik's semen.

It was half an hour before either of them noticed that something was very wrong with the headboard.


---


Charles bowed his head and pinched at the bridge of his nose, tired of this stand-off, tired of Christmas, tired of nearly everything. Movement in his peripheral vision made him glance up sharply, expecting to see Erik poised to snatch up his helmet and leave. Instead, the silver-haired mutant was shifting his weight indecisively and chewing at the inside of his lip.

"I was always so... angry at you for not knowing, Charles," Erik said haltingly, his gaze roaming in a similar rhythm over the length of the telepath's study. "But... I think... it was my fault. For not saying it." Xavier cleared his throat and tried not to assume that he knew what his ex-lover was talking about. He knew what he wanted him to be talking about, but Erik had disappointed him before, had worked up the courage to make a deep revelation, made an enormous issue over it, and then lost his nerve at the last moment, offering instead some lame, insulting imitation.

"For not saying what, Erik?" Erik gave him a pained, rueful smile and exhaled through flaring nostrils.

"I love you, Charles."

Relief. He really hadn't been a fool all those years to believe that Erik loved him. Joy. Erik Lensherr was standing in his study on Christmas Eve, telling him he loved him. Indignation. Why had it taken him so long to finally say what both of them knew already? Frustration. For almost twenty years they had been unable to find a way to love each other from anywhere but afar, and Erik's sudden verbalization didn't change that. Hope. It was a new beginning, in the season of new beginnings, and Charles was more than happy to forsake their lonely, frustrating routine in favor of the unknown future.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Charles?" There was a slight catch in that thick voice, the sort of hesitation that accompanies deep revelations. Xavier smiled, feeling calm and peaceful, and his expression relaxed the angled planes of Erik's face almost instantly.

"Take me to bed."

END

ORIGINAL SLASH

Original Slash - Corby/Britney

Author: Carawen Javolia
Title: Homeward Bound
Date: Dec. 6
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Corby/Britney Femme, Preslash-ish
Rating: PG13
Summary: Britney and Corby say goodbye for winter break.
Disclaimer: Corby, Britney, Jamie, and all others are mine. Don't use them without asking first.
Feedback address: carawenprose@aol.com 
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: I plan to expand on these characters and their story, I just don't know when.
Beta: Keane

Homeward Bound

Britney Nolte zipped her suitcase shut with a sigh of satisfaction. Packing for winter vacation was over, and she could enjoy the rest of the evening. She brought her bags down and left them in the line of luggage inside the front door.

Britney was the only one in the townhouse at the moment, two having left already and the other two out shopping.

The water for pasta had just started boiling when Jamie Masters and Corby Williams burst in, laughing loudly at some unknown thing.

"Mmm, pasta!" Jamie said, walking over. "And is that your homemade sauce? You are far too good to us, Britney."

Britney slapped Jamie's hand away as she tried to steal a meatball. "There's less than ten minutes before it's done. You can wait."

Corby stood in the doorway, a smile on her face. "Come on, Jamie. I can tell when we're not wanted." Corby grabbed Jamie by the shoulders and steered her into the living room, flashing Britney a big grin as she passed. Britney only smiled and shook her head at the antics of her housemates. She didn't cook very often for them because one of their housemates, Marisol, didn't like Italian food and that was all Britney knew how to cook. Occasionally Corby could be persuaded to cook, but mostly they ate frozen food and delivery.

Later, after dinner was eaten and cleaned up, Corby drove Britney and Jamie to the train station to see Jamie off.

"I don't know how you manage to sleep in those little tiny bunks," Britney said as they stood waiting for Jamie's train.

"It's not much worse than sleeping in a bunk under that one," Jamie replied, pointing at Corby.

Corby made a rude gesture in response and the other two laughed. "I offered you top bunk but you didn't want it. You said something about being afraid of heights, remember?"

Jamie waved it off, saying, "details, details." She turned back to the departures board. "Oh, look, I have a track number. Alright. I'll see you guys in January." Jamie hugged each of them quickly. "Don't forget to pick me up," she said, pointing a finger at Corby.

Corby rolled her eyes. "Just call me or email me with the time I need to pick you up. You guys are lucky I don't mind chauffeuring you."

"I love you, Corby," Jamie mock-gushed, stretching up to kiss Corby's cheek.

"Just get going, shorty," Corby replied.

"Just because we aren't all giants like you are-"

"Goodbye," Corby cut in.

"Yeah, yeah. Goodbye," Jamie grumped, but she smiled and waved as she headed off.

"Sometimes I wonder how old the two of you are," Britney teased as they got back into Corby's car.

"I assure you I am exactly my age," Corby replied in a haughty voice. "She's the one you should wonder about."

"Oh, yeah?" Britney was silent for a moment. "What're you doing tonight?"

"I have to finish making a present. Why?"

"Just wondering. I think I'll go to bed early."

"Okay."

The next morning was cold but clear. They'd gotten an inch of snow overnight, adding to the previous layer. It was one of the things about New England winters that Britney still wasn't used to, even after three years.

"Will you be alright driving in this?" Britney asked as they loaded Corby's car.

"This is nothing compared to what I grew up with. Just because you grew up in the desert with no snow doesn't mean everyone else did. I'll be fine." Corby added another box to her backseat. "There's just your stuff left inside," she said, closing the door.

"Okay." Britney added her bags to Corby's trunk, letting her portfolio rest on top. Corby was in the driver's seat, scrolling through her IPod. "Anything special you want to listen to?"

"What were you listening to the other day, the one where the guy sounds like he was castrated?"

Corby thought for a moment then laughed. "I know what you're talking about." A moment later Yes's Seen All Good People filtered out.

"Thanks again for dropping me off. I really didn't want to leave my car at the airport for a month."

"I told you it isn't a problem, now stop thanking me," Corby growled playfully. "I go past the airport on the way home, so who better to take you than me?"

"Yeah." Britney glanced over at Corby, who had a soft smile on her face. There was something about Corby that caught her, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. It had been like that, ever since they met.

"Hi, I'm Corby," the taller girl said, stretching a hand out. "We've met a couple times last year, but it was always brief."

"Yeah, I remember. I'm Britney." The two shook hands. "So, what's your major?"

Corby laughed, a low, rich sound, and pointed to two boxes beside her. One held a sewing machine, the other a serger. "Fashion design officially. But my main interest is costuming for theatre. You?"

"Fine art. I've loved painting ever since I was little."

Corby ran an assessing eye over Britney. "How tall are you?"

"5'6. Why?"

"You'd make a good fit model. I might have to borrow you later this semester."

"Fit model? What's that?"

"In April there's a fashion show all the senior fashion design majors are required to participate in. Professional models are hired for the show, but in the winter we use regular people as fit models to see how the designs look on real people, not just dress forms."

"Oh. Um, sure, I'll do it if you need someone."

"Great." Corby looked her over once more. "I'd say 37, 28, 36."

Britney's mouth dropped open. "How'd you know that?"

"Years of practice." Corby laughed, and Britney couldn't stop the smile from forming on her face.

"You still with me, there?" Corby asked, glancing over at Britney.

"Oh, yeah, I was just thinking." She looked out the window at the snow-covered fields. The had left the city a while ago, but Britney hadn't noticed.

"Anything interesting?"

"No, just some memories." Why did she suddenly feel so awkward around Corby?

"Good ones, I hope."

"Yeah, good ones." She glanced once more out the window before turning in her seat. "So, what kind of things does your family do for Christmas?"

"Well, we go to my great aunt's house on Christmas Eve to see my mom's side of the family. On Christmas day we visit with my dad's side of the family. We go to my grandfather's in the morning, then my cousins' for lunch, because they have the youngest family member."

"Why because of the youngest?"

"So they don't have to separate his from his new toys and lug him all over, basically. Until I was eighteen I was the youngest on my dad's side, so everyone always came to our house. My dad's brother and his family live about two hours away from everybody else, so they usually come down either Christmas Day or the day after. We don't really have a big formal meal anywhere."

"Do you go to church or anything?"

"My dad and I don't. My mom will sometimes, but my dad and I had bad experiences with organized religion, so we tend to avoid it." Corby glanced over. "What about you? What are your family traditions?"

"My grandparents have everyone over on Christmas Eve for a big traditional Italian dinner. We eat for hours it seems. Then the younger members go around caroling. After that is desserts then Mass at midnight. For the past two years my grandmother's been asking when I'm getting married." Britney rolled her eyes. "I'm not done with school yet, and I don't even have a boyfriend. Just because she got married at nineteen doesn't mean everyone else has to," she grumbled.

Corby laughed, but it was slightly strained. "So, you come from a religious family?"

"Yeah. They're a bunch of Italians, so of course."

"My mom's parents are really religious. My grandmother hates the fact that I had a gi- She told me I desecrated my temple by getting my tattoos. Two of my neighbors are gay. They've been living together for about fifteen years now, and my parents and I have been friends with them since the moved in. But anytime my grandmother's around them, she's horribly rude to them. My grandfather's more laid back, though. He doesn't care."

"One of my uncles is gay, but no one really cares. We don't see him very often 'cause he lives in Seattle."

"That's cool." Corby was silent for a while, focus on the road. "Here we are," she said, turning off the highway. "What airline?"

"United," Britney answered, looking up at one of the signs. "It looks like it's in the last drop-off."

"Okay." Corby navigated carefully through the mass of cars and people dropping others off. When she found an opening under a United Airlines sign she pulled over. The two got out silently and pulled out Britney's luggage. "Here's your Christmas present," Corby said shyly, handing Britney a bag she hadn't noticed.

"Thanks." She pushed some of the tissue paper aside to get a peak, but Corby's hand covered hers.

"Wait 'till you're in the terminal or something, okay?"

"Sure, Corby." Britney set the bag down and hugged Corby. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Corby whispered, returning the hug. She pulled out of it stiffly, sooner than Britney would have liked.

"I'll see you in January, then?" Britney asked, falsely bright. She wasn't quite sure what made this parting so hard.

"Yeah. Give me a call when you get home tonight, okay? Just so I know you're all safe and sound." Corby looked tense, but Britney wasn't sure why.

"Of course." She bent to pick up her bags when Corby's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Corby?"

"I just- I want..." Corby's hand moved to her chin, and, in a bold move, she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Britney's lips. She stepped back quickly and nervously, waiting for Britney's response.

Britney stepped forward, not quite sure what she was doing, but confident all the same. One hand went to Corby's neck, the other to her hip. She pulled the taller girl down into another longer kiss. A tightening in her chest she hadn't known was there released when she felt Corby's arms come around her back. They stood there in each other's arms, mouth moving against mouth, for an endless moment, until Corby pulled back slightly. She rested her forehead against Britney's, eyes still closed.

"I should let you go," Corby whispered, not pulling away. "It'll take you a while to get through security."

"Yeah," Britney answered just as softly. "My parents wouldn't appreciate it if I missed the plane."

"Yeah." Corby kissed Britney again quickly before reluctantly stepping away. "It's less than a month. Only twenty-seven days." Corby took a deep breath. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Britney gathered her bags and portfolio. She was careful not to squish the bag from Corby. "Um, Bye." She pecked Corby on the cheek before hurrying into the airport.

An hour and a half later Britney sat in the terminal, waiting for her flight to board. The bag from Corby sat at her feet, and she finally gave into the temptation to open it. Under the tissue paper her hand met smooth silk. She pulled out what turned out to be a dress. It was beautiful, and she knew when she put it on it would fit perfectly. She expected nothing less from Corby's perfectionism.

A glance at her watch told her Corby should be home by then, so she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Yeah? This is Corby."

"Hi," Britney said, suddenly unsure. "It's me."

"Hey," Corby answered softly.

"The dress is gorgeous."

"Thanks. It'll look great on you."

"I'm sure it will, since you made it for me." Britney sat, just content to hear Corby breathing. "Um, my flight back is two days before the campus opens again. I was just going to get a hotel or something, but would it be possible to stay with you?"

"You... You want to stay with me?"

"Yeah. I thought we might... take some time to figure out what exactly this is between us."

"Um, yeah, sure. You could share my room, or sleep in the sewing room-slash-guest room, which doesn't really have a bed, now that I think about it..."

"Your parents wouldn't mind if we shared a bed?"

"I um, told them I was gay two years ago. They don't mind."

"Oh. It'll be nice to meet them."

"I think they'll like you, so don't worry."

"Okay. Oh, they just announced my flight, so I have to go."

"Right. Um, I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah. I'll call when I get home. Bye."

"Bye."

Britney hung up and stowed her cell phone in her purse. She carefully packed the dress away then joined the line of people waiting to board the plane. It was only twenty-five days until she came back, and she had a feeling she'd be calling Corby quite often.

~~End~~

REALISTIC SHOWS

Boy Meets World - Cory/Shawn

Author: Eppy
Title: Mistletoe
Rating: PG
Show: Boy Meets World
Pairing: Cory/Shawn
Summary: "Shawn kissed him."
Date of publication: Dec. 6
Disclaimer: Disney gets BMW, I only get to play with them.
Feedback address: LizzyPaul@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Note: Exactly 100 words.
Beta: Thanks for the beta, Chrys!

MISTLETOE

Shawn kissed him.

Sure, there was mistletoe. And everyone thought it was a joke.

But Shawn kissed him.

He kissed him, laughed, and Topanga made some remark about Cory being *her* boyfriend and kissed him. Cory thought about Shawn the whole time.

Later, when they were cleaning up, Cory handed Shawn a pile of trash and said, "You kissed me."

"There was mistletoe," he said, and tried to laugh it off. But Shawn was his best friend and he knew when Shawn was bullshitting. He plucked the mistletoe and held it over his head.

Shawn smiled and kissed him again.

END

ANIMATED

From Eroica With Love - Klaus/Dorian

Author: Val Adams
Title: "A Cup of Cider"
Date: December 6, 2004
Fandom: From Eroica With Love / manga
Pairing: Klaus/Dorian
Rating: PG13
Summary: A taste from his past give Klaus food for thought.
Disclaimer: The characters are borrowed.
Feedback address: valsamezzo@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Angst, denial... you know, Klaus.
Beta: Emme

A Cup of Cider

It was the smells that first alerted Major Eberbach to the time of year. Having trained himself to ignore the cold, he had not noticed the onset of winter; much less the heavy coats worn by the people he passed on the streets as he left his office at NATO headquarters. His standard trench coat, worn over his usual suit, sufficed to keep him warm enough most of the time. Nor had he noticed the increased traffic near the shops of Bonn as he strode purposefully toward his flat. The aromas of roasting chestnuts and cinnamon spiced cider and brought him to an abrupt halt.

Christmas.

The Major looked around at the familiar surroundings now decorated with shining tinsel, glowing lights, brightly colored ribbons and wreaths. Odd that he hadn't noticed those things - or the noise -- before. Bells incessantly ringing, auto horns blaring, singers caroling... gah! One week until the day itself and the frenzy was already palpable.

Idiots. These people were idiots, all of them. Laughing, prancing about, singing like fools. Did they not know how precariously the world balanced between good and evil? Were they oblivious to the serious situations that rocked the world? Did they not care that even now, while not on field assignment, the Major carried his handgun in its shoulder holster and a small capsule in his shirt pocket? How could they be so carefree?

His hands had grown cold, but he was still several blocks from the warmth of his flat. The vendor was nearby and quietly courteous. The cup warmed his fingers and the smell of the cider eased a sudden tightness in his chest. Cautiously, he sipped the hot cider as he studied the busy scene around him.

Children were running in the cold evening air, tugging a parent's hand toward some shop or other, laughing, excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Some of the smaller ones were asleep in a mother's arms, warm, safe, content. Had he ever been such a child, such an innocent -- taking delight in such mundane things as snow and colored lights? It seemed not. Duty had always been paramount -- duty to his title, to his family, to his country.

Now the taste of cider reminded him of the long past Christmas Eves of his childhood, spent huddled in his pajamas and robe in the warmth of the huge kitchen of Schloss Eberbach. Cook had indulged him every year with cakes and spiced cider long after he was supposed to be sleeping. How he had looked forward to that treat! He would savor the hot drink and listen to Cook hum carols while she baked for the next day's meals. No lavish gift left under the Christmas trees of his youth held the warmth of those memories.

It seemed so long ago.

He supposed he should call his father to confirm their plans for the following week. This year, as ever, the two men would attend services and spend Christmas Day at Schloss Eberbach. The meals would be delicious, the wine exceptional, the conversation dutiful and stilted, the gifts awkwardly exchanged. The prospect made him wish for an international incident, a terrorist sighting... anything to call him away and give him a purpose during the holiday. Humpf.

Still sipping his rapidly cooling drink, Klaus wondered what his alphabet were doing this evening. Parties, dinners, shopping? Did they laugh with their families? Did they have children of their own? He seemed to recall that Agent Q had a few pictures on his desk. And what were the criminal element doing during this season? The thief called Eroica, for instance.

Klaus snorted. He could guess. Dorian would be holding court as the Earl of Red Gloria at that English castle of his -- the one with the poncy towers that seemed to suit the slender thief right down to the ground. It would be filled to bursting with perverts of all sorts, cavorting like pagans and enjoying the bounty of Dorian's ill-gotten gain. Dorian himself would probably be standing permanently under the mistletoe, kissing male and female alike with lecherous abandon, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and his golden hair shining like an angel.

Damn. Dorian could screw up Klaus' Christmas from across the globe.

Because now that Klaus had started thinking about him, he saw Dorian everywhere. In the boy whose face was plastered against the toyshop window with his eyes wide in wonder, in the woman reveling in her new fur, in the petty criminal sizing up the vulnerabilities of the shops. He heard his ridiculous laughter and the lilting tones of his voice in the bells. Oh, fuck.

Klaus crushed the empty cup in his fist. It was not for men like him to be making Christmas wishes. He had duties and responsibilities to attend to. He could not be thinking of indulging his carnal desires with anyone, much less with a man. Much less with a man well known to Interpol.

Except, of course, that he did think of it. He had thought about it for over ten years. Claiming Dorian, marking his flawless skin, biting those perfect lips, and tugging his fingers through that glorious mass of hair. It was his Christmas wish: to find enough strength in himself, in "Iron Klaus," to reach out and steal the thief.

No. It would be far better to ignore Christmas and its blasted wishes than to give in to his lustful desires and weaken himself for his work, his duty. His dusty, bloody, painful, exhilarating, rewarding, dry, wretched, everlasting duty.

Klaus looked again at the festive scene before him. Idiots, he had called them. Perhaps they were not. They were, after all, happy and content with themselves and the lives they had chosen or been given. They could change to suit themselves whenever they wanted.

Refusing to examine the other side of that coin, Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach straightened his spine and took a deep breath of the wintry air. As he strode toward his flat with military bearing he once again closed out the cold and the bright lights. He thought of the open files on his desk and forgot even the taste of hot, spiced cider at Christmas.

End