December 12

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

First Festival of Light by Kata Avalon
Due to length - this story has been assigned its separate page.

SCIENCE FICTION

Star Trek - Kirk/Spock

Title: Sweet Shepherd
Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten
Email: blueberrysnail (at) yahoo dot com
Website: The Kirk/Spock happyplace at http://cosmicduckling.com/spirk
Series: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Hypatia Kosh
Disclaimer: Paramount owns two lonely, straight, single guys, so this CAN'T be the same fellas, right?
Summary: Candy used in an inappropriate way--aw, how cute.
Written for the 2004 Slash Advent Calendar.

The two Starfleet officers lay naked in the bed, wrapped in a loose tangle of sheets and sweating legs. Kirk caressed Spock's arm in long, slow strokes that started near the Vulcan's shoulder and ended near the wrist. He knew he was teasing Spock by approaching his hand so closely but not touching it; for a Vulcan, whose telepathy is based on touch, the hand is a more erogenous zone than the mouth, and holding hands more intimate than a kiss.

"Jim," Spock sighed into the satiated silence, "I would like to discover the pleasure of penetration. My body cries out to accept yours; I wish to welcome you into myself as my mind has done so many times."

"I could make that really good for you," Kirk agreed, continuing his maddening caress. "You've never done anything like that before, have you?"

Spock lifted one eyebrow.

"Just making sure!" Kirk finally let his hand rest upon Spock's. "Even with yourself?"

Spock shivered slightly at the touch. "I had never felt there was any purpose to inserting objects or body parts into my rectum," he said. "It is what I have shared with you that has caused this desire to emerge."

"I'm... pleased... that you wanted to share this with me, then," said Kirk. "But since you've never been opened up before, it might be a little tricky the first time."

"Perhaps it might be prudent to... 'work our way up'?" Spock hazarded. "I hypothesize I might enjoy the sensation of being filled by your penis if it were not the first object to perform that function. I do contain a natural apprehension to the act that tempers my eagerness."

"Makes sense to me to start small," said Kirk with a grin as he rolled off the bed and onto his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting supplies," Kirk explained as he darted around the room.

While he waited for the Human to come back, Spock curled up in the sheets in an almost feline spiral of limbs.

Kirk belly-flopped down on him when he came back, embracing Spock's entire body sideways. "Has anyone ever told you you're adorable?"

"I cannot recall," said Spock demurely. "When I a small boy of a few years old, I am sure my mother--" Then he began to gasp loudly, because Kirk was attacking his nipple with a dizzying combination of lips and tongue.

"In order to enjoy any kind of anal play," Kirk said matter-of-factly between slurps, "it's best to be completely relaxed."

"Logical," Spock moaned.

Kirk tickled and teased and kissed and licked every part of Spock's midsection and thighs until the Vulcan had liquefied and lay in a puddle of delirious pleasure on the bed. "Now, turn over, and bring your knees up to your chest."

Spock obeyed, folding up his body neatly.

Kirk kneaded Spock's rear end gently. He was naturally a little nervous, because he didn't want Spock to feel any more discomfort than necessary. Thank goodness *I've* got experience here, he thought to himself. If we were both inexperienced and neither of us knew what to expect... He knew that a little bit of pain--well, the wrong kind of pain, anyway--could dampen sexual arousal faster than warp speed. Not that they hadn't had enough fun tonight, but he was certainly ready for more. The bobbing, bright-pink erection between his thighs attested to that.

He wasn't going to invade Spock with that tonight, though. They had the rest of their lives for that, and he didn't want Spock to be sore the next day--or sorry he'd asked for it.

Instead, he popped open the little tube of lube and spread the smooth substance over the other object he had retrieved. Spock peered over his shoulder curiously, trying to see what Kirk was up to. "Jim, what are you holding?"

Kirk held up the item for inspection. It was a small, slender cylinder of white with red stripes spiraling over its glistening surface. "It's a candy cane," he said, smiling. "Merry Christmas."

Spock raised his eyebrow again. "I see you have generously lubricated it."

Kirk nodded. "It's also very small. See? I'm going to stick it inside you, and I'm going to aim for your prostate."

Spock responded with an expression that Kirk knew was a Vulcan smile. Through the vague mind-contact they shared through their close physical proximity, Kirk sensed that Spock was very eager and curious about what that kind of stimulation would feel like.

Kirk spread some more of the lube around the tight opening to Spock's body, and then brought the candy cane's rounded tip up to the entrance. Holding it by the hook, and massaging Spock's thigh with his other hand, he probed the very first millimeters of Spock's anus.

The opening accepted the peppermint stick but then closed around it tightly. Spock was nervous, or at least whatever a Vulcan would call the natural apprehension, since "nervous" was an emotion. "Relax," Kirk told him soothingly, and kissed him softly on one buttock. He massaged Spock's thighs until the muscles loosened up again and the candy cane was once more free to move.

"How are we doing?" Kirk asked as the candy stick slowly advanced a few centimeters into Spock's body. He stopped the movement and held it there, waiting for an answer.

"It is tolerable," Spock replied calmly. He was still trying to process the unfamiliar sensation.

Kirk knew it would be a while before Spock would feel pleasure at being penetrated this way, so he wasn't too worried about Spock's lack of enthusiasm--even for a Vulcan. Very, very gently he began to move the candy cane in and out, resting against the soft bedclothes beside Spock.

After a few minutes, he pulled the peppermint stick out of Spock and gave it another dose of lube. "Wouldn't want this to get sticky inside you," he commented as he slid it back in. The second entrance was easier than the first had been.

Soon, Spock had grown accustomed to the feeling of being invaded, and began to welcome the small moving object. Kirk watched Spock's anus begin grabbing and letting go of the stick, and he knew Spock was finally enjoying the activity.

Kirk decided it was time to make his husband moan. He slid the peppermint stick just a few centimeters deeper into Spock's body, slowly, until it nudged...

Spock writhed like a sea swell in a storm and let out a deep groan. Kirk couldn't help chuckling with pride--and with relief that Vulcans did have the same kind of prostate as did the Human species. "I guess that felt pretty good?" he asked, superfluously, through his grin.

"That was a highly... intensely... pleasurable..." Spock mumbled, as Kirk purposely drove speech from his mind with further prodding of the peppermint.

Kirk left the candy cane where it was, held safely outside by the hook, and moved his hands underneath Spock's body. When he felt how hard Spock had gotten, he grinned like the cat who'd swallowed the tribble. He ran his fingers luxuriantly over the thick shaft of flesh, then gripped it firmly. He could tell Spock was reluctant to thrust his hips into the gripping hand because of the concern that the candy cane might break, so he made sure to jerk his hand back and forth as rapidly and tightly as he could, to make up for it.

Remembering that he, as a humanoid, was lucky enough to have two prehensile hands, Kirk also went to work on himself, jerking off both himself and his Vulcan at the same time. It crossed his mind that such an event was an excellent opportunity for examining the tactile differences between the Vulcan and Human members. Or maybe not--maybe he was too turned on to care.

He squeezed and tugged both of them to completion, and flopped down alongside Spock when they had finished. Turning his head to one side lazily, he stared into Spock's beautiful eyes. "Was I a good teacher? I tried to be patient." He wiped a sweaty lock of hair from his face. Both of his hands were slightly sticky with fluid.

"You were very patient, and my body appreciated it," said Spock, gazing at Kirk peacefully, "but you were not a teacher; you were a shepherd, leading me towards penetrative intercourse."

"A shepherd? How's that?"

"You are, then unfamiliar with the cultural origins of the candy cane," said Spock. "They are reputed to represent the crooks of the shepherds that were present on the night of the original Christmas."

"Spock," Kirk said, blinking with surprise, "I never expected you to fall for an urban legend."

"Urban legend?"

"That's just a myth. There were already candies shaped like crooks before people started using them as Christmas decorations, and then people started inventing reasons on their own."

"I see." Spock furrowed his brow. "How illogical to fill information gaps with invented data."

Kirk rubbed his back playfully and then removed the peppermint stick from his rear end. He placed it carefully on the table beside the bed. "You know... Bones would never believe what we talk about in bed."

"Indeed."

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Jeremiah - Jeremiah/Markus

Author: Orithain and Rina
Title: Santa Claus Is Coming
Date: December 12, 2004
Fandom: Jeremiah/SciFi
Pairing: Jeremiah/Markus
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Markus gives Jeremiah a Christmas surprise.
Disclaimer: If they belonged to us, we'd be able to watch this instead of writing about it. We didn't create them, but we sure do have fun playing with them, and the only person making profit is the real owner, who gets the royalties when we go out and buy copies for research... and to drool over. ;)
Feedback address: orithain67@sympatico.ca , rina83@msn.com 
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Technically this is a sequel to our story "A Fine Pair of Asses" < http://www.infinitum3.com/or/jeremiah01.html >, but if you haven't read that, just think of it as an established relationship story.
Beta: kira-nerys

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Santa Claus Is Coming
By Orithain and Rina
December 12, 2004
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Choppers incoming, Jeremiah."

The man in question looked up from the endless lists that always seemed to be piled on his desk and smiled. "Markus?" he asked, unnecessarily.

"That would be them; nobody else around here crazy enough to visit in the middle of winter."

Jeremiah chuckled. "They say all great leaders are crazy--or maybe he just wants to experience Christmas, Millhaven style."

"I think he wants to experience Jeremiah, any style," Libby replied wryly.

"Sounds like my kind of Christmas," Jeremiah grinned, getting up and handing the papers over to Libby. "Mind doing me a favor?"

"Depends what it is," she replied warily.

Jeremiah just looked at the lists.

Libby groaned. "Oh, you are going to owe me so big."

"Yes, I will, and so will Markus."

"So will Markus what?" Markus himself asked, arriving at that moment and smiling happily at the sight of the man who'd become his lover only a few months earlier during a trip they'd made together to sound out a potential ally.

Jeremiah grinned as he looked over at the door. "You owe Libby big time."

"And why do I owe Libby? _How_ can I owe Libby, considering that I just got here?" Markus glanced from Jeremiah to the dark-haired woman settling into the chair behind the solid desk covered in papers.

"Well, if you really want me to spend your visit doing paperwork..."

Markus' eyes widened. "You have free time? Libby, I think I love you!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, you owe me."

Jeremiah walked over to Markus and slid an arm around his waist. "Told you."

"I can live with that." Markus put his arm around Jeremiah's waist as well, leaning closer and feeling his body stir at Jeremiah's nearness.

"Good thing or you won't get your Christmas present," Jeremiah murmured, tilting his head to nuzzle Markus' ear.

"Get out of here," Libby groaned. "Some of us aren't getting any."

Markus turned away slightly so Libby wouldn't see his smug expression. He was well aware that she'd been interested in Jeremiah, but Markus was the one in Jeremiah's bed, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Thanks, Libby," he called over his shoulder as he urged Jeremiah toward the exit, eager to be alone.

When the door closed behind them, Jeremiah moved his other arm around Markus as well. "So?" he asked, leaning in so the word was brushed against the other man's mouth.

"I missed you," Markus admitted, swaying forward to kiss Jeremiah, arms tightening around him. "I think I was annoying about it," he continued. "I've been ordered not to come back to the mountain for at least a week."

"And you think I'm going to complain about this?"

"I hoped not." Markus smiled. "The only real question is how much of that time we can spend in bed."

"You want to shock Santa?" Jeremiah chuckled.

"Tell Santa to go talk to Mrs. Claus," Markus retorted. "We don't need any help with that." He leaned back against the closed door behind them, more interested in drinking in Jeremiah's nearness after their weeks apart than in getting to Jeremiah's house, at least for the moment. Passersby glanced up at the two men standing so close together, and many smiled as they recognized the leader from Cheyenne Mountain and saw the relaxed expression on Jeremiah's face.

"Well, I know what I wanted to find under my tree..."

"I really hope you're going to say me, or I'm going to feel really foolish."

Jeremiah growled and nipped at Markus' ear. "It sure as hell wasn't Smith!"

Markus shuddered theatrically. "Don't even mention his name to me! You don't have him around all the time. Hmm, I could send Kurdy and Smith to help you..."

"No!" Jeremiah exclaimed before slapping Markus' ass. "You're a jerk; why did I miss you?"

"Because I'm smart, sexy, gorgeous, loveable... Did I miss anything?" Markus gave Jeremiah his usual crooked grin.

"A jerk."

"Your jerk."

Jeremiah grinned. "Well, yeah, there is that."

"So we each have one of our very own."

"Guess we'll have to keep each other."

"I was planning on it." Markus slid his hands under the waistband of Jeremiah's leather pants, cupping the firm buttocks, and leveraged himself closer, rocking against Jeremiah.

"And I think we need to get to my place, _now_."

Finally noticing some of the sidelong looks from passersby, Markus smiled sheepishly. "I think that's a very good idea."

Jeremiah chuckled and kissed Markus again. "So come on, oh great asshole, and I'll give you a proper welcome to Millhaven."

"I'm hoping for a very personal welcome," Markus confided, starting to walk again.

"I'll give it my best."

"I may need to stay an extra week."

"You know Erin will come here and drag you back by your ear if you're late."

"I'm staying for Christmas and New Year's Day," Markus said almost sulkily. "They don't need me there, and I want to be with you. It'll be my first holiday with someone I--with family since the Big Death."

"Easy, Markus," Jeremiah murmured, hugging Markus close. "I'll keep you here as long as you can stay."

"Sorry," Markus sighed, leaning on him for a moment. "I guess I'm tired. I'm looking forward to a while without decisions or responsibility almost as much as to being with you."

"Hey, I'm not arguing, and I plan on taking advantage of you any and every way I can."

"That sounds very, very good. So good that I hope we'll be at your place soon, or we may be putting on a show for the good citizens of Millhaven."

"So walk already," Jeremiah laughed.

"I am walking! See my feet moving. That's walking. But you know, I have to follow you since you know where we're going."

Jeremiah looked at him strangely. "You've been to my place before, Markus, remember?"

"Okay, so I like the view." Markus shrugged slightly, smiling wickedly.

"Okay, that one I'll take."

"Taking is good. Then again, so is being taken." Markus snickered when he heard a gasp from a woman who walked past just then.

Jeremiah shook his head and steered Markus toward his place, glad that it was his place alone now, Libby having moved into another house with a girl she'd met and become friends with.

"I don't think I'm doing your reputation any good," Markus said, not sounding overly concerned.

"She's just jealous that I have you and she doesn't."

"More likely the other way around, but you know what? I don't care. I've lived half my life for other people. Now I'm finally making some time for me, for us."

"Do you hear me arguing?" Jeremiah unlocked the door to his house and held it open for Markus, following him inside, closing the door and sliding his hands under the other man's coat and sweater once they were alone. His palms pressed against Markus' warm, nearly hairless chest, moving upward to glide over his pebbled nipples and rubbing the tiny peaks until they both were panting with desire.

"Need you naked now, Markus," he murmured, rubbing his hands over Markus' stomach and nibbling the back and side of his neck, then licking at his skin, enjoying Markus' salty taste. "Naked and in my bed."

Shuddering with arousal, Markus moaned and pressed closer, letting Jeremiah feel his erection through their layers of clothing. "Sounds good," he whispered, his throat dry as he imagined the next several hours. His hands busied themselves unzipping and unbuttoning Jeremiah, pushing the jacket and shirt from his shoulders and sliding beneath the undershirt to gather it up and pull it over his head while Jeremiah cooperated by raising his arms.

Markus stared at Jeremiah's bared chest and licked his lips hungrily, a soft whine of lust escaping him before he lowered his head to nuzzle at a cold-hardened nipple. His cool cheek made it tighten even more, and the warm tongue that followed did nothing to change that.

"Damn, Markus," Jeremiah groaned, then fisted his hands in Markus' shirt, pulling him up for a demanding kiss even as he dragged them both down the hall toward the bedroom.

Stumbling backwards as Jeremiah steered them, Markus concentrated on ridding them of more of their clothes, leaving a trail along the corridor behind them. "Want you so bad I hurt," he groaned, pushing a hand past the now open fly of Jeremiah's pants and rubbing his cock. His fingers cupped the hard length, his thumb stroking the head and smearing the droplets of fluid over the heated flesh, the scent of sex beginning to fill the air.

"I think I'm way past that," Jeremiah rasped, rubbing his hands over every bit of bare flesh that he could as he undid Markus' khakis and pushed them down over his hips, baring his lower body. "I must have been a good boy this year."

"Well, I'm certainly not a lump of coal, but I am all yours," Markus admitted without the slightest embarrassment.

"Oh good, I'd hate to have to send you back." Finally in his bedroom, Jeremiah toppled Markus to the bed and rubbed up against him, warming both of them as he did so. "I'd really hate that."

"I would make sure you did," Markus growled even as he arched up against Jeremiah, his hands pushing Jeremiah's leather pants off his hips so he could cup the tight buttocks in his palms.

"Mmm, getting bossy on me, Markus?" Jeremiah laughed. "Maybe you had better top tonight."

"Later," Markus promised. "I've been fantasizing about you fucking me again since I started trying to free up the time to come here."

"Not easy being lovers with the leader of the free world," Jeremiah commented, nuzzling Markus' neck as he pressed him against the bed, their cocks gliding against each other.

Markus winced. "Don't call me that," he muttered before giving up conversation as a waste of time just then and pulling Jeremiah's head up to kiss him.

Jeremiah nodded into the kiss, then pulled back to explore Markus' chest, licking his nipples until they were both tight peaks. The sparse hair tickled his chin, and he chuckled, licking at it until it lay flat against Markus' pale skin, allowing him uninterrupted access to the delightful banquet.

"Jer," Markus panted, fingers tangling in the short strands of Jeremiah's hair, his legs shifting restlessly on the bed.

Humming in response, Jeremiah moved lower, licking Markus' erection even as he fumbled in the bedside table for the lube he knew was there. His eyes, however, remained focused on Markus' face, cataloging each reaction; the flush staining Markus' skin, the glazed look in his eyes, and the way his thin lips opened as he gasped for air.

"Oh yeah, now, please," Markus begged, pushing his legs apart, hungry to feel Jeremiah fill him again.

Groaning, Jeremiah managed to get the lid off the lube and squirted some out onto his hand, warming it before he dragged a finger through it and rubbed it over the entrance to Markus' ass.

Markus immediately thrust upward, causing Jeremiah's finger to slip inside him, and he groaned. It had been weeks since he'd been able to see Jeremiah, and his body was tight, feeling the burn of penetration even with the thick gel.

"Relax," Jeremiah crooned, keeping his hand still until he felt the clench around his finger ease. That done, he pressed in farther, feeling for Markus' prostate.

"Like the first time all over again," Markus gasped before crying out sharply when Jeremiah rubbed the hyper-sensitive gland inside him.

"Mmm, there's a memory," Jeremiah murmured, leaning in to nip at Markus' neck as he added another finger, stretching the other man.

"A very pleasant one," Markus managed to get out despite his soft whines of rising lust and hunger. "Please," he groaned, squirming on the fingers fucking him.

Dragging his hand back, Jeremiah slicked his own cock with more lube, then settled himself between Markus' legs, placing his erection against the other man's body and slowly pressing inside, drawing in a deep breath at the feel of the tight heat. It was a distinct contrast to the chill of the lube, and he gasped, sinking deeper into the other man, enclosed and surrounded by his living heat.

Markus groaned his deep pleasure, unable to frame a single intelligible syllable.

His legs rose to wrap around Jeremiah's waist, raising and tilting his hips to allow Jeremiah to sink deeper into him. His arms went around Jeremiah's shoulders, hands stroking the muscular back, nails lightly scratching over the knobs of Jeremiah's spine.

"Oh, fuck, Markus," Jeremiah gasped, holding still for a moment before beginning to thrust, knowing this first time wasn't going to last long.

"Mmm." Markus made a sound of pleased assent, matching Jeremiah's rhythm eagerly. His cock was rubbed between their moving bodies with every thrust, and each one drew a small whine of pleasure from him.

His motions coming faster and harder, Jeremiah groaned. "Just like that."

"Yessss," Markus moaned, managing to force out the single word. He reached between them, so close, desperate to pump his cock and come.

"Do it," Jeremiah hissed, rearing back to stare down into Markus' face.

Markus gave him a strained smile, knowing that Jeremiah wanted to watch him, and he started to stroke himself harder, tightening his ass around the shaft filling him.

Nodding, Jeremiah matched his thrusts to Markus' strokes, his eyes never leaving the other man's face. "Fucking gorgeous..."

"You are." Markus stared up into the dark eyes as his body tightened and his balls drew up preparatory to coming.

Jeremiah shook his head as he angled his thrusts to hit Markus' prostate.

Markus' eyes widened, and he wailed, his body convulsing in a powerful climax.

Jeremiah gave a strangled shout as he felt Markus quiver beneath him, and he drove inward a few more times before he, too, was coming.

As the tremors of pleasure ebbed, Markus let his legs fall back to the bed and sprawled bonelessly beneath Jeremiah's welcome weight. "I hope every visitor to Millhaven doesn't get this kind of greeting," he said a little later after he'd caught his breath.

"I'd hit you for that, but I feel too good."

Markus smirked.

Jeremiah made a half-hearted attempt to smack Markus' ass.

"Hey! You bruise it, you don't get to use it!"

"I think saying that would make you a Scrooge."

Markus started to laugh. "In that case... 'Please, sir, may I have some more?'" he asked in a very bad attempt at an English accent.

Jeremiah frowned, tilting his head to the side. "That just doesn't sound right for Scrooge..."

"I like Tiny Tim better."

"Tiny?"

"He was. I'm not." Markus glared, just daring Jeremiah to say otherwise.

"Hey, did I bring it up?"

"You certainly did," Markus murmured, giving Jeremiah a look that let him know exactly what the blond was referring to.

Jeremiah grinned and leaned in to kiss Markus. "Did I say it referred to you?"

"I was being preemptive."

"Oh, that's what they call it now."

"Yup." Markus kissed him again to prevent any comments.

Jeremiah chuckled. "Whatever you say, oh great leader."

"You might want to remember that the ass of he who is on top is totally accessible," Markus grumbled.

"And this is a problem?"

Markus raised a hand and smacked one cheek smartly. "You tell me."

"Sadist."

"I'm not really hearing you complaining," Markus pointed out, lightly rubbing his palm over the hot flesh.

"Then I must be a masochist."

Markus' eyebrows rose. "I'll have to keep that in mind for when we're not so exhausted. I've been, er, reading some stuff I found in the personal effects of a lot of the soldiers who were stationed at the mountain. Lots of stuff said how spanking was a turn on. I didn't really see how, but I guess it does have some potential at that."

"Markus Alexander into the kinky stuff; who would have imagined?" Jeremiah grinned widely.

Markus smiled sheepishly. "Well, who would have imagined I'd be into you? One's no stranger than the other."

"Gee, I'm feeling the love here."

Markus stared at him. "You should be."

Jeremiah smirked. "Well, I'm feeling something anyway."

"Sticky?" Markus suggested dryly.

"Sounds more like you."

"You're lying on top of me," Markus pointed out logically. "What was on me is on you."

"Yeah, but it won't drip out of me."

"Yet."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Definitely a promise." Markus raised his head to kiss Jeremiah again.

"Mmm, good, I'm looking forward to it." Jeremiah moved to the side and curled up alongside Markus. "Did I say I missed you?"

"I think so, but I like hearing it, so feel free to repeat it as often as you like." Markus rolled to his side to face Jeremiah, smiling faintly from sheer happiness. The blue eyes drank in the sated expression on Jeremiah's face, sparkling with pleasure from the knowledge that he was responsible for putting it there.

"I suppose I can do that, since it's Christmas and everything."

"Gee, you're too kind to me."

Jeremiah chuckled. "I know; what did you ever do to deserve me?"

"Erin would say I must have been a serial killer in a previous life, but I think it must have been something spectacularly good."

"I'll agree with that."

"Such modesty," Markus snorted. "But that's okay. As long as you annoy most people, I don't have to worry about anyone stealing you away."

Jeremiah snorted and pulled Markus closer to him. "Nope, I'm stuck on you, as idiotic as it seems."

"I think it sounds pretty good." Markus shifted even closer, snuggling against Jeremiah's warmth, one leg hooked casually over Jeremiah's.

"Yeah, can't complain."

"This would be a hell of a time to start," Markus said with a laugh.

"Is that a threat?"

"It could be," Markus decided judiciously, "if you were to start complaining while we're still lying in bed and sticky."

"Hrmmm, guess I'd better not start complaining then."

"Good choice." Markus brushed a kiss over Jeremiah's lips, just enjoying being together again. "So I guess my surprise was a good one?"

Jeremiah chuckled and flipped the comforter up over them both. "Naw, this is how I greet all the important people who come to Millhaven."

Markus growled. "What?!"

Jeremiah snickered. "Gotcha."

"You...!" Markus tried to punch his arm, hampered by the comforter, and settled for a glare. "Smart ass."

"No, hot ass."

"I must be the masochist," Markus groaned.

Jeremiah chuckled.

"I guess we're a perfect pair, huh?"

"Never heard me arguing that."

Markus laughed. "No, Erin does that for both of us."

Jeremiah groaned, "Don't remind me."

"Aww, does she scare you?" Markus crooned, smirking. "I'll protect you from the big scary girl."

"Yeah, like you don't shiver when she yells at you."

Markus grinned. "Yeah, but I know in the end she likes and respects me as a leader. I'm not so sure she likes you."

"Yeah, but I don't have to live with her."

"No, but you have Libby. Who dislikes me about as much and for the same reasons as Erin does you," Markus said, indirectly acknowledging that he knew Erin's feelings for him.

Jeremiah sighed and rubbed a hand over Markus' back. "Too bad we can't get them interested in each other."

"I'd try it, but I've never seen either of them give a woman a second glance. Hey, maybe we could sic them on Smith and Kurdy!"

"Kurdy might like it; I'm not sure Smith knows what sex is even."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to ask him!" Markus shuddered as he imagined the conversation, his expression mirroring his horror at the thought.

Jeremiah snickered. "But the answer might be interesting."

"Then you ask him!"

"I may just do that." That said, Jeremiah rolled to his back, bringing Markus alongside him. "And record the answer for you."

"You just like making me squirm, don't you?"

The smile that answered that was slow and sensuous. "Damn right."

Markus chuckled throatily. "That's not what I meant... but I like it."

"I thought you would."

"You know me so well. I like that too."

"Good thing, because I like you."

Markus just smiled. "Remind me to show you what I brought when we get up."

"Will it make me like you more or less?"

"That depends on how you feel about Christmas."

"Didn't think about it much after the Big D."

"Well, I'm planning to change that, so you may like me less for a while. Think Christmas tree, decorations, everything you remember as a kid."

"You going to dress up like Santa?"

"I don't think I have the belly for it. Or the beard either."

Jeremiah sighed and poked at Markus' stomach. "So much for realism."

Markus' eyebrows rose even as he curled in on himself, protecting his ticklish middle. "Are you saying you'd like me better at triple my weight?"

"No, but the beard might feel good..."

"And you call _me_ kinky?"

"Yup, have a problem with that?"

"Only if you expect me to grow a foot long beard. I'm willing to go looking for a fake one, but that's as far as it goes."

Jeremiah pretended to mull that over. "Well, only if isn't an itchy one."

Markus eyed him. "Are you going to get picky over the color too?"

"Well, isn't white appropriate?"

"Considering that I don't think any have been made since the Big Death, I think you should take what you can get."

"I have." Now the grin was predatory.

That surprised a chuckle out of Markus. "I noticed."

"I'd start to worry if you hadn't, and as for the beard, I suppose I'll see tomorrow, won't I?"

"I suppose you will." Markus shifted again, settling his head on Jeremiah's shoulder, their bodies nestled together from head to toe, and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.

***

Waking early the next morning as he'd hoped, Markus slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Jeremiah, who somehow managed to sprawl across the entire bed. Markus smiled fondly as he took in the sight, grateful for this time together after their weeks apart, and watched Jeremiah pull Markus' pillow closer, holding it the way he'd been holding Markus moments earlier. Finally, not wanting to wake Jeremiah, Markus turned away and went downstairs to rummage through the boxes he'd brought, which his escort had delivered to the house while he'd been greeting Jeremiah at his office. Finding what he wanted, he got ready and went back upstairs to wait for Jeremiah to wake up.

Coming awake when the bed dipped beside him, Jeremiah yawned and blinked groggily, then stared at the red-suited, white-bearded apparition in bed beside him before starting to laugh. "So Santa, what's in my stocking this year?" he snickered.

"Good little boys get lots of presents... and bad little boys get Santa all year long to make sure they don't get into trouble." Markus stood up and turned around, modeling his new look for Jeremiah before sinking back down on the side of the bed with a wide smile on his face.

"Guess I'd better be bad then; and Santa, I hope everything doesn't shake like a bowl of jelly." Jeremiah reached out and poked Markus' belly as he spoke, chuckling when his finger indented the pillow under the costume.

"Santa comes equipped with firm parts too," Markus said dryly.

Jeremiah snickered and reached up to stroke 'Santa's' beard. "Glad to hear it; I'm looking forward to feeling this on me."

"You are a very sick man," Markus announced, laughing. "Makes me wonder what you used to wish for when you were sitting on Santa's lap."

"Pervert. Back then I wasn't thinking of anything other than the latest video game."

"Glad to hear it. If you went for older men, I'd be in trouble. Though I am about as old as anyone."

Jeremiah chuckled. "Nah, you're the only man I'm going for, older or otherwise."

"That sounds just about right," Markus said, pleased. He eyed Jeremiah. "Is this part of the reason you and Kurdy haven't partnered up again?"

"This as in us?"

Markus nodded. "Is it a problem for him?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "His problem's with me, not us." He shrugged slightly. "We're getting to being friends again, but we'll never be partners."

Markus bit his lip and shifted farther toward the end of the bed, resting his back against the footboard. "Would you hate me if I admitted a part of me is glad? Not that your friendship is rocky, but, well, I wonder if you'd still be interested in me if you and Kurdy were as close as you used to be."

"Markus, I can honestly say I've _never_ been interested in Kurdy that way."

"I know _that_," Markus said, smiling briefly, his crossed arms sinking back to his lap as he relaxed slightly. "But you were so close; it was as if there was no room for anyone else. Neither of you ever really liked the women the other was involved with... though you were all right, mostly, with Elizabeth."

Jeremiah shrugged. "Well, it's all pretty moot now, isn't it?"

Markus winced slightly. He'd known that bringing this up was a bad idea, but he'd never been able to keep himself from poking at things till he understood every angle. Unfortunately, people usually didn't respond well to being poked.

"I think it's time to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want for Christmas," he suggested with false heartiness, trying to recapture the earlier carefree atmosphere.

"You sure Santa doesn't want to talk more?"

"Santa would rather get his foot out of his mouth."

Jeremiah gave a small smile. "Hope there's no reindeer shit on that boot."

"You really do have a sick mind," Markus laughed.

"That's what got me where I am today."

"In bed with Santa?"

"I'm kinky, what can I say?"

Markus grinned and moved across the room to sit down on the chair in the corner, blue eyes sparkling mischievously as he unfastened the belt and pants, tossed the pillow stuffing aside, and pulled his hardening cock out, stroking it. "Care to sit on Santa's lap?"

Jeremiah shuddered, his eyes darkening as he watched Markus, and he crawled to the end of the bed, then stood. "Can Santa handle me?"

"Santa's looking forward to it." Markus stared at Jeremiah's nude body hungrily, admiring the wiry strength that strangers sometimes mistook for slightness or weakness, and he hardened still more.

Leaning back, Jeremiah grabbed the lube and tossed it to Markus. "Ready or not, here I come."

Markus snorted. "I'm a guy. I'm always ready."

"It's what I love about you." As he spoke, Jeremiah sauntered over to the chair and straddled Markus' lap.

Markus smiled. "I aim to please." He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and trailed them along the crevice between Jeremiah's cheeks, looking up at him, eyes flicking from the warm brown eyes to the erection almost at eye level.

"Was that one of Santa's mottos?" Jeremiah sank down onto Markus' lap.

"It is now," Markus retorted, successfully fighting back the groan that wanted to escape as he felt his hard cock slotted between Jeremiah's slick cheeks.

"Then how about pleasing me by aiming?"

Snickering, Markus grasped the base of his erection, rubbing the head against Jeremiah until the head rested against the tight ring. Holding it steady, he smirked at Jeremiah. "Hop on."

Jeremiah chuckled, then groaned as he did just that, the feel of Markus stretching and filling him.

"Oh fuuuuck." Markus let his head fall back, breathing in short, desperate pants as he fought for control. "So good," he gasped, fingers biting into Jeremiah's hips.

"Guess... guess that answers the question," Jeremiah hissed, raising and lowering himself.

"Question?" Markus asked vaguely, not sure if they'd been talking or not, his whole being intent on the hot, tight grasp on his cock as he slowly pulled back, then pushed forward again.

"If I was bad or good." Jeremiah shuddered, reaching between them to stroke his cock.

"Both. Perfect mix," Markus replied, eyes intent on Jeremiah's hand, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling his ears.

"Glad to hear it."

Unable to concentrate on conversation, Markus leaned forward and kissed Jeremiah to shut him up. And then the heat flared higher between them.

Groaning into the kiss, Jeremiah moved faster, shuddering as he came, his seed wetting his stomach and the velvet of Markus' costume.

Watching him hungrily, Markus began to speed up, his body tensing and his balls pulling up as his climax neared, spurred on by the sight, sounds and scent of Jeremiah coming.

"Oh yeah, do it," Jeremiah rasped, curving a hand around the back of Markus' neck, his lips moving against Markus' as they continued moving.

Markus stared into the brown eyes only millimeters away, his hips moving faster and faster, jabbing into Jeremiah with short, quick motions now. He wrenched his head back, tearing his mouth free of the kiss as he cried out and came.

Once Markus had relaxed under him, Jeremiah straightened up and smiled.

Markus met the smile dazedly, not up to more than that yet.

Wincing as his thigh muscles protested the position, Jeremiah stood and rubbed his lower back. "Mrs. Claus is going to know you were up to something here, Santa."

"I dumped her. Left her a note that I was running away with one of my elves." Markus sprawled in the chair, his wet, still half hard cock protruding lewdly from the red velvet.

"So now I'm an elf?"

"Do you prefer fairy?"

"Do you ever want to get fucked again?"

Markus burst into laughter. "How 'bout my lover?"

Jeremiah grinned as he collapsed back on the bed, enjoying the picture Markus made. "I can live with that."

"And eventually we may actually find a way to live in the same place so we can do this more often. But for now, we'll just have to make the most of our reunions."

"Just make sure you get that suit cleaned."

It was Markus' turn to grin. "It's got a lot more Christmases ahead."

"Might give it some wear marks over time."

"So we replace it when we need to." Markus stroked the soft plush of the fabric. "Though I may hang on to this one regardless. It's already got some good memories attached."

Jeremiah pushed up to his elbows and nodded. "Yeah, it does, and so does Christmas as a whole again."

Markus smiled. "In that case, I think it's safe to tell you that downstairs is a lot of decorations just waiting for us to go out and get a tree."

"Is there a fruitcake in there anywhere?"

Markus nodded. "I've always loved fruitcake. I found a recipe and made one... with some help."

Jeremiah looked dubious. "It's all yours--I was only kidding!"

"Hey! Try it before you decide you don't like it. I never did get why people made jokes about fruitcakes. They're really good."

"I'll see. Maybe you can talk me into it."

"I will," Markus said with determination. "My mom always managed with my dad, and she was a terrible cook, _and_ he hated fruitcake."

"So now you're your mom?"

"I'm as stubborn as she was, and she managed to make her way back to the mountain when she was sick."

Jeremiah nodded seriously. "Then I guess I'll be eating fruitcake under the tree later."

"I'll let you decide what else you want to do under that tree."

Jeremiah just waggled his eyebrows.

Markus burst into laughter. "I can't imagine what you might have in mind," he snickered.

"You'll just have to wait until we get it done to find out then."

"I'm looking forward to it. But first we have to go find the perfect Christmas tree, after we have breakfast."

"And take a shower."

"Oh definitely. I dream about shared showers." Markus finally got up out of the chair and started removing the bright red suit.

"Shared with me, I hope," Jeremiah commented, rolling off the bed and stretching again as he headed toward the bathroom.

"Nobody else." Markus admired Jeremiah's flexing ass before continuing to undress. About to follow Jeremiah into the bathroom, he suddenly grinned and placed the beard on the nightstand before continuing on.

"Good thing! Now, are you coming, or do I have to wait for New Years?"

"I'm not wearing a diaper!"

END

FANTASY

Smallville - Lionel/?

Author: kira-nerys
Feedback: Please, kira at kardasi dot com.
Author’s Note: I always try to respond to feedback since I find it a wonderful help in keeping the creative juices flowing. Hearing from my readers is a huge part of what keeps fan fiction so much fun.
Title: A Leopard Cannot Change Its Spots.  
Rating: Hard R/NC17.  
Date: December 12, 2004
Spoilers for: Memoria
Summary: Lionel Luthor cannot change, however much he might wish that he could.  
Pairing: Lionel Luthor/?
Disclaimer: Not mine, and they never will be.  
Beta: greenluigigrl and haute coffey. Thanks for a job well done! Any and all mistakes that remain are solely my own.
Advertisement: Written for the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/SAC-2004.htm  

A LEOPARD CANNOT CHANGE ITS SPOTS

”I’m sorry, lover, but it’s just the way it has to be.” Lionel stood there, his long hair lifting in the wind, his blue eyes determined and thin lips stubbornly tight. He was beautiful, as always, and as unforgiving as always.
 
Lionel’s lover sighed and turned his gaze away. It hurt too much to look at the other man, the long hair and the beautiful, but sometimes cruel, mouth. He’d known this day was coming. Lionel had never lied to him or tried to sweet talk him. Still, he had hoped this day would not come quite so soon. Why was he so drawn to that hardness, that determination and that unyielding power?
 
He stared at Lionel, trying to understand why this thing between them had come to such a sudden end, so soon.  
 
“Why now? Is it something I’ve done?” He hated himself for asking, but the coldness and the fear gathering in his stomach slowly turned to something else.  
 
“I’m simply saying that it’s time for me to put this nonsense behind me. You know that I met Lily, and she has agreed to be my wife. She will bear my sons and produce the heirs I need.” Lionel’s voice was cold, his eyes hard and determined.  
 
He knew just how impossible it would be for him to change Lionel’s mind. When Lionel Luthor made a decision, it was no use trying to convince him otherwise. The hurt at being rejected slowly dissipated and anger took its place. He should have known. He had known and still he had trusted this man, hoped that maybe somehow he could change Lionel and make him see that money, power and control weren’t the be all and end all in this world.  
 
Of course, it hadn’t worked. Hurt coursed through his heart, but he nodded curtly. Lionel responded in kind, turned away and left.  
 
That was the last time they saw each other for many years.  
 
*  *  *
 
Lionel moved through his office, his entire body cold and numb from the information Lex had just given him. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Lionel stopped in front of the windows, looking out at the skyline of Metropolis. The lights were beautiful and obscured the stars he knew were out there, but the spectacular view barely registered in his mind.  
 
Lex had said that he hadn’t killed Julian. Lex hadn’t killed Julian. Lily had.  
 
Lily.  
 
Lionel swallowed and rubbed his face with both hands, drawing them through his long hair as though the action would lift the fog that had formed in his mind. It seemed as though his thoughts were all a jumble, and he didn’t know how to make them right again. The information had cut right into his core, put his whole world upside down. In fact, his life seemed to have shifted completely in the last hour. All the things he had done …  
 
He gave a sound, a sound he refused to believe was a sob.  
 
Lily, not Lex.  
 
Lily.  
 
The woman whom he had chosen to bear his children, the woman whom he had married and the woman who had caused him to leave the only person he had ever loved had murdered his precious son.  
 
Lionel swallowed once more, reached out and grabbed his blazer, and then he left his office, aiming for the chopper at the top of the building. With the help of that, he would be in Smallville before noon.  
 
*  *  *
 
“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked, his blue eyes watching Lionel levelly. Lionel almost turned his gaze away then. It was only a lifetime of never backing down and never showing weakness that forced him to move further into the barn where Jonathan Kent was working. Apparently he was feeding his beloved cows.  
 
“Where is that ever-present son of yours?” Lionel asked, surprised at the calm tone of his own voice. His inner self was in turmoil, but as usual, nothing could be seen on the outside. That gave him a small measure of satisfaction.
 
“Why?” Jonathan asked and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
 
Lionel sighed deeply, knowing full well that he deserved every contemptuous look and suspicious glare that Jonathan might ever aim at him.  
 
“I just wanted to talk to you,” Lionel said softly. “Alone. Where is Clark – and Martha, Jon?” He tilted his head to the side and hoped that the old nickname would make Jonathan realize how much he wanted to bury the past, how much he regretted what he had done, and what he had left behind.  
 
“They’re in Smallville, picking up groceries. I’m sure they won’t be back for another couple of hours,” Jonathan said grudgingly, but he stopped shovelling hay and leaned on the pitchfork instead, watching Lionel. Waiting.  
 
Lionel flinched inwardly under that gaze, but refused to look away or show any sign of weakness. Years of practice allowed him to do this, even though Jonathan was the one person in this world who could have ever made him feel as though he were in the wrong.  
 
Moments later, he still turned away from Jonathan and looked around the barn. The surroundings suited Jonathan, always had. He’d always been the salt-of-the-earth kind of person, whereas he – he’d always been power hungry.  
 
“I was wrong,” Lionel said at length.  
 
Jonathan didn’t reply, as though he was waiting for Lionel to elaborate and explain exactly which time he was referring to. Lionel felt anger flare inside him at the implication, but forced the rage away. Jonathan was right after all. He had made so many mistakes. So many.  
 
“I was wrong, and you were right,” he whispered with his back still turned to Jonathan. “I shouldn’t have done what I did to you.” He fell silent for a long while, then he finally turned around and met Jonathan’s eyes again. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
 
“What is it that you’re after now, Luthor?” Jonathan said, his eyes cold and hard. It seemed he didn’t believe a word. And why should he? Lionel wondered. He had never in his life given Jonathan a single reason to trust him.  
 
Jonathan leaned the pitchfork against the wall in short, measured movements, stepping closer to Lionel without ever turning his gaze away.  
 
He must have learned that from me, Lionel thought. To shut down all feelings, to show such callousness and such … non-emotion.  
 
Lionel sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He followed the wooden beams there, wondered what he would say next. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything.  
 
“Nothing,” was the word that came out of his mouth, even before he was aware that he was going to say anything. “Or, maybe that’s not true. I’m not sure anymore,” he admitted.  
 
“Lionel Luthor always wants something. That’s one of the things I’ve learned to count on in life,” Jonathan said.  
 
Lionel looked back at Jonathan and he realized that his former lover was right. He wanted something, wanted it so badly he could taste it, wanted it – needed it – enough to do anything to get it.  
 
“Yes, I imagine you’re right, Jon,” Lionel said and closed the gap between them.  
 
All of the sudden anything cold that had ever existed between them was gone. As soon as Lionel’s chest touched Jonathan’s, the same heat that had always been there roared to life. It turned into a blaze that crackled and set them both aflame as though they were made of desert-dry kindling.  
 
“Jon,” Lionel groaned and pushed against the hard, unyielding body that he’d once known as well as his own, maybe better. The answering groan told Lionel that whatever else had happened, the desire between them hadn’t disappeared during the years of animosity and mistakes.  
 
“I should never have left you,” Lionel admitted, something he could never, ever have said, had not Lex’s words made him so weak so unsure of who and what he was. So unsure of his path in life.  
 
They kissed, hard, desperate kisses. Lionel could taste blood in his mouth, and Jonathan’s stubble scraped his chin. Still he didn’t let up. He shivered when he felt Jonathan’s hands dive into his hair. The grip around the long strands was so hard that it hurt, but Jonathan wasn’t trying to pull him away. He wasn’t …  
 
A surge of joy and triumph shot through Lionel at that realization and he pushed his long-ago lover toward the stack of hay in the back of the barn. They fell down on the itchy-soft, dry grass and continued the desperate kisses.  
 
Jonathan tasted like he had always done; clean, earthy, honest and strong. Lionel couldn’t get enough. He never had.   
 
*  *  *
 
Jonathan didn’t know why Lionel had come to him like this, and at the moment he didn’t care. He knew he would probably hate himself for that, later, but right now the thought of pushing Lionel away was more than Jonathan could bear.  
 
Instead, he fell back on the hay, spreading his legs suggestively and threw his head back, exposing his throat to the most dangerous man he knew. The thrill that had always been there shot through his body, into his core and he became instantly addicted. He couldn’t have stopped himself if his life depended on it. For all he knew, maybe it did. When Lionel’s mouth descended on his throat and the even, white teeth nipped and bit at his skin, Jonathan groaned aloud and thrust his hips against Lionel.
 
The hardness he met there made the need coarse through his body like liquid flames, and he dug his fingers further into Lionel’s long, thick hair. He’d always loved that hair, and sometimes he wondered what would happen if someone were to cut it off, if Lionel was like Samson and all that power lived in his locks.  
 
Jonathan let the thought fade away, pulled hard and their lips met in another bruising kiss. Lionel started pulling at Jonathan’s pants, tore them open and soon faded, blue denim and expensive woollen fabric was pushed aside for the delicious meeting of smooth, warm and hard skin. Jonathan hissed when Lionel’s strong fingers brushed accidentally against his hard cock and he bucked.  
 
Lionel groaned into his mouth and when they started moving, all thoughts fled. Jonathan had missed this, missed his strong, sometimes-cruel, lover and nothing could have stopped him from enjoying this touch, this meeting, something he had dreamt of so many times. He had lain there in his and Martha’s bed, longing for Lionel and had felt the guilt eat him up from the inside every time.  
 
When he came, hard, it was with a groan that sounded almost like a sob, filled with pleasure, pain, guilt and love.  
 
“Damn you, Lionel,” he groaned.  
 
“Yes,” Lionel agreed and looked into his eyes. “I am.”
 
Then he rose to his feet, fixed his clothing and pulled his fingers through his hair, removing a few straws of hay that had mingled with the long strands. Jonathan got to his feet as well and straightened his clothes. He winced at the wetness between his legs and longed for a shower. He felt sated and dirty – and he wanted more.  
 
“What’s wrong with you, Lionel?” he hissed when his brain finally came back online. Shame and guilt made him more furious than he had ever felt before in his life. He had wanted this, but he never, ever thought he would get it and he never, ever thought he would do this to Martha. “Damn you Lionel,” he repeated. “Do you think you can come here and just go back to the way we were over twenty years ago? I’m not the same naïve and simple person that I was back then. After all you’ve done to me, to Martha – to Clark – do you really think that…?”
 
*  *  *
 
Lionel closed his eyes against the accusations that spewed from Jonathan’s lips and that shone from his eyes. Jonathan Kent was the only person Lionel had ever loved in his entire life. Perhaps with the exception of Julian and Lex. But he had burned his bridges everywhere. There was nobody out there that he cared about that would ever return his affections. Not anymore. He had been through too much, done too much and he enjoyed the power that was at his fingertips way too much.  
 
“No,” he said, interrupting Jonathan’s angry tirade. He reached out with his hand and caressed Jonathan’s stubbly cheek. “No,” he repeated. “I don’t. I just wanted you to know, that I still love you, Jon. No matter what.”
 
Jonathan’s face went still, like stone, and Lionel turned around, leaving his lover standing there. He knew he could never be what Jonathan wanted him to be, and he knew that this was the last time he would ever show such weakness. What Lex had said before only proved that there was no turning back. He had made too many mistakes in his life, too many to rectify, and the heart that he had once had somewhere deep inside was now cold and dead.  
 
The only thing that kept him going was the mystery. The mystery of Clark Kent.  
 
“You’re not capable of feeling love,” Jonathan shouted after him. And Lionel knew that once again, Jonathan Kent was probably right.  
 
END

REALISTIC SHOWS

Everwood - Bright/Ephram

Author: HYPERFocused
Title: Heart and Soul
Date: December 15th
Fandom: Everwood, Realistic
Pairing: Bright/Ephram
Rating: PG13
Summary: Sometimes a duet needs to be practiced.
Disclaimer: Not my boys, not my dreidels.
Feedback address: HYPERfocused@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: for Jodie, because she knows the notes.
Beta: The aforementioned Jodie.

HEART AND SOUL

It was almost Christmas when Ephram noticed Bright hadn’t been around much, lately. Sure, they’d had a bit of a falling out, but he thought they were back on track to being friends. He’d kind of thought they’d been heading towards more. And yes, Bright could have been mad at him because of his break-up with Amy, but he’d said he understood. Probably better than Ephram did himself.

Ephram knew he had hurt Amy by telling her they needed to go back to being friends, or at least step back a little, but it was the best thing he could do. He had too much going on, and frankly, worrying about her was draining the energy he needed to devote to his future. He didn’t have big enough shoes to fill the Amy’s Boyfriend role.

Getting ready for his school auditions was his first priority. Practically his only priority when it came right down to it. Bright got that. Bright didn’t complain when Ephram didn’t want to talk. He was happy just hanging out in Ephram’s studio. Ephram had learned to tune out the random crackles and beeps from the bag of chips and the Game Boy that kept Bright occupied while he practiced.

It was kind of nice having him there, Ephram thought. With Amy, there had always been this underlying sense that he hadn’t done enough for her. As much as she’d claimed just to want to “be there for him,” he knew she’d expected to be the center of their relationship. It was the barely audible “sigh” under her breath every time she sat down to wait while he played that was the death knell in their relationship for him. He didn’t need that kind of guilt. Amy deserved a boyfriend who could give her his full attention. She deserved a boyfriend who wanted to.

“I don’t want casual, Ephram. I want someone who will put me first.” He remembered the way her eyebrows had knit together when he tried to feel her out about lightening up their relationship. He really would have been happy that way. They could go out and have fun, and not feel lonely. But with Amy, everything had to be fraught with meaning. Ephram didn’t really believe she loved him, as much as she wanted to be in love.

“Last and always, too,” he’d said.

“After all I’ve been through, don’t I deserve that?” Ephram counted in his head until the dreaded name came up. Amy’s personal ‘get out of jail free’ card. “I didn’t think I’d ever love anyone after Colin.”

Ephram had his doubts about the accuracy of her memories from her relationship with Colin, who sometimes seemed real enough that he could picture him wandering the halls at school, and other times was as ephemeral as a dream. Clearly they hadn’t known the same guy.

He shook thoughts of both Amy and Colin out of his mind. The issue now was Bright. What had happened to him? It had been weeks since he has spent his afternoons crashed out on the couch in Ephram’s studio. Ephram knew he was working for one of his mother’s local government associates, but he usually still had time to hang out with Ephram.

He couldn’t concentrate anymore. It was too quiet. No one was making inane comments. “That sounds like music for insane people, Ephram.” “That sounds like music by insane people.” No one was making him scoot over on the bench, and playing Heart and Soul -- badly, leaving orange dust on the keys that Ephram pretended to be more annoyed about than he was. “Bright, I really need to practice,” he’d said. Now he wished he’d played along. No one was begging him to play “The Snoopy Song”, but not listening when he told him about The Vince Guaraldi Trio. No one’s warm, strong thigh was pressed against his, making him stay at the keyboard long after he might have gotten up to stretch his legs.

As much as Amy’s presence had distracted Ephram, Bright’s absence was making it very hard to work.

It didn’t take long for his question to be answered, and not by the person he expected. Delia came into the kitchen the next afternoon. It was the first day of Winter break, and she and Brittany had been to the mall.

“Ephram! You’ll never guess what we saw! Bright has a new job.” Delia had started, before breaking into giggles.

“He looks like such a dork, I can’t believe I ever thought he was hot,” Brittany had added. Ephram didn’t like her, but there was no point in telling Delia that. She was old enough to pick her own friends, even if she wasn’t quite mature enough to know when they weren’t worth keeping.

“What’s he doing? Working at the Orange Julius?”

“What’s that?” Brittany had asked.

“Never mind. He’s weird,” Delia had told her. “No, he’s Santa’s helper. I think he’s supposed to be an elf.”

“He has a costume, and everything. He looks ridiculous.” Apparently Brittany only liked Bright when he was out by the pool, or wearing a tux. Or maybe she’d moved on to some boyband twit or actor.

“You mean with tights, and a funny little hat?” Sadly, Ephram could picture it all too well. Even sadder, it sounded kind of hot.

“You know, I think I need to pick up a few Hanukah presents,” Ephram said, grabbing a soda as he headed out the door.

“Since when do you buy presents? You just want to see Bright.”

“Shut up Delia, or you won’t be getting whatever it is I decide to bring you.”

“You’d better keep the receipt, whatever it is.”

* * *

It was worse than Ephram had imagined. Bright was possibly the goofiest elf he’d ever seen, including the one in that movie. Blond curls springing out from under the green pointed hat. Pointy ear tips stuck on. Tights that really lived up to the meaning of the word. But despite the silliness of the costume, Bright looked totally in his element helping the throngs of kids waiting to see “Santa”. In fact, he looked happier than Ephram had seen him in months.

Ephram debated whether he should approach Bright or not. What would he say? “Hey, can I sit on your lap? Bright wasn’t Santa, anyway. Chickening out, Ephram headed for the Tower Records store to pick up a promised something for Delia and something else for his dad.

As it turned out, he was going to have to talk to Bright after all. When he went back out to the parking lot, he found his car was dead. Damning his father for getting him “a car he could learn a lesson from”, rather than something new, he walked back inside, found an out of sight bench, and waited ‘til Bright’s shift was done.

Bright wasn’t paying attention as he walked past Ephram on the way out the door. He’d taken off the hat, his hair flattened under it amusingly.

“So, what’s a guy got to do around here to get his wishes granted?”

“Huh? Ephram, what are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a new gig. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to tease me about it, like you are now.”

“I’m not. You looked good up there. You make a good elf.”

“How long have you been watching?”

“A few hours.”

“I was that entertaining? Thanks, Dude.” Clearly Bright’s embarrassment hadn’t lasted.

“Don’t flatter yourself that much. I need a ride home. My car’s dead again.”

“Couldn’t you have called your dad?” Bright seemed reluctant to give Ephram a ride. Ephram didn’t know why. Maybe he really was mad that Ephram had watched him.

“Not when you were here. Come on. I’ll even buy you pizza. Or whatever.” Ephram realized Bright might not want to go back to the scene of his crime.

“All right. Fine. Just don’t say anything…” Bright sighed, and unlocked the truck’s door for Ephram.

It took a minute before Ephram noticed it. It was just a small sprig, tied to the rear view mirror. But it was obviously mistletoe, and mistletoe had only one purpose. Even a half Jewish kid from New York City knew that.

“Is this why you didn’t want me in your car?”

“No, it’s just – not exactly. “ Bright blushed.
“Then what?”

“It’s why I wanted you in my car. I just didn’t know how to say it.” With that, Bright leaned towards Ephram and kissed him. Just as Ephram had suspected, he tasted like Chee-tos.

END

MOVIEVERSE

Men In Black - Agent K/Agent J

Author: PhenDog
Title: Look Here
Rating: R
Pairing: Agent K/Agent J
Summary: On Christmas Eve, J and K have to save the world…again. But watch out for the aphrodidic alien spit!
Category: Movieverse Slash
Disclaimer: The characters belong to other people. I don’t know who because I’m too lazy to look it up. But trust me, after I’m done abusing them, I’m pretty sure they won’t want them back.
Feedback address: phendog@gmail.com 
Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
A/N: (for anyone who can’t immediately remember K is Tommy Lee Jones’ character, and J is Will Smith’s)

Look Here

“But I mean it’s Christmas Eve, K. Don’t you think the Glarnosh Federation could threaten to blow up earth next week instead?”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, kid,” K sighed impatiently as he hit the button that made the wall of his office slide up to reveal an assortment of phasor weaponry. “And you know very well that the Glanari don’t care about our holidays—in fact, they consider them a weakness. Christmas really upsets them, since fruitcake is considered a intergalactic deadly weapon and our planet is the number one producer.”

“Killjoy aliens. Fun is the only thing that makes this rock worth living on, and fruitcake ain’t that bad. If they want to keep the sticks up their asses, that’s fine, but…”

K lifted out a Nasher Destroyer L5000 and tested its heft while it powered up. “Actually, having a stick up their ass IS the Glanari idea of fun. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that Glanari males outnumber females 10 to 1, and their salvia is a notorious aphrodisiac, even to them. If you’d read the manual, sport, you’d know that.”

J rubbed a hand across his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. “K, there are just some things I don’t want to know. That’s one of them. So if you and Zed and the rest of the old guys like to sit around and read your alien porno, that’s fine with me, but I’ll just stick to the good old Playboys.”

“Actually—”

“Damn it, K. I know, I know. Most of the girls aren’t human either. Real girls just can’t match that level of hotness. But you know what? I don’t care. They still make J and little J very happy.”

A thin beam shot out of the end of the Nasher Destroyer L5000 and failed to take out the entire wall-sized target, so K placed it back in the bracket in favor of the L8000 instead. Then he turned and rolled his eyes at his junior partner. “How about you stop thinking about ‘Little J’ for a moment and test this out.” He tossed him the Kriger Blaster.

J looked at the weapon, barely longer than his forearm, with disappointment. “Geez, K. It’s Christmas. You could at least give me something bigger to work with. What, does this one moo when you shoot it?”

“It’s a perfectly fine weapon, kid. Just point and shoot.”

“You know, the problem with you, K, is that you’ve got size issues. You just can’t stand the thought that I might have a bigger gun than you.” He made a gesture. “Maybe ‘little K’ is just a little TOO little?”

K turned around angrily. “Do we really need to make a competition out of this? I’ll have you know—”

He was cut off as the opposite wall disappeared to show Zed’s face. “K? J? As soon as you two are done with your pissing contest, you might want to get down to the Ellington Mall Parking Garage. The Glarnosh Federation has its demands and they want to see you in fifteen minutes. Otherwise they’re going to fire, and if North America is destroyed, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

His image disappeared, and J made a face. “Oh, now you’ve done it, K. Better not piss off Zed.”

K snapped his fingers and called the car. Then he opened the driver’s side and sat down. “Hurry up and get in. And this time, buckle your belt.”

J couldn’t stop the snarky comeback, but he did at least fasten the safety belt.

+++++++++++++++++++++

“God damn aliens! I just knew it was going to be a shoot out. I TOLD you I needed a bigger weapon.”

“You did fine, slick. And if you hadn’t pissed them off, we wouldn’t have needed to blast them all to begin with.”

K turned to his communication transmitter. “I’m going to need an I5 clean up crew down at Ellington Mall, and some new memories for a pair of unlucky holiday shoppers who couldn’t find their car.”

He gave the sign and both donned their glasses as he held up the neutralizer and told the frightened couple to look at the little red light.

“I didn’t know ‘Merry Christmas’ sounded like a Glanari insult!” J felt an uncomfortable stirring, but let it go.

“I told you, they don’t like fruitcake.” K hit the button on the neuralizer causing a red flash, and then addressed the two civilians. “If you two would like to just wait over there,” he indicated the alcove by the elevator, “we’ll have someone to help you find your car down here momentarily.”

“Huh,” the woman said dumbly, clutching her packages tighter. “Where are…”

“What’s all this?” the man asked, looking at the green and red and entrails that decorated most of the parking garage and dripped from the concrete beams of the ceiling.

“Just a little holiday construction. Now if you’ll just stand over there?”

The man grumbled, but did as he and his girlfriend did as they were told.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” K pocketed his sunglasses and called the car.

There was definitely a growing problem, J realized, as the black slacks to his suit grew more and more…confining. He understood getting aroused by the battle, but during the aftermath? That was just wrong. Even so, little J seemed to be having other ideas. J sat down in the vehicle carefully.

“Something wrong over there, slick? You’re being a little quiet,” K observed after a few minutes of highly uncharacteristic silence from the passenger seat.

“Ah, it’s just…never mind,” he shifted and did his best to keep his hand from straying where it desperately needed to go.

Seconds later, he couldn’t help the whimper.

K looked over and saw his partner wiggling. “One of them spit on you, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Damn it, didn’t you hear me warn you about their saliva? What do you think the secret ingredient in Viagra is, anyway?”

J forced his brain to concentrate on what K was saying. “You mean that’s ours, too?”

“One of our biggest sources of funding. But that’s chemically altered and highly diluted. What you got…that’s full force. Do you have any idea how much that sells for on the black market?”

“Kinda not caring here, K.”

Ignoring him, K continued as his eyes scanned the area for a discreet place to pull over. “A lot. It’s a prized substance, particularly in the Kelnian system. That’s why the Glanari are so well equipped with ships and weaponry. Their spit is a hot commodity. Of course, the Kelnian’s use it for two purposes: the first is in their pleasure houses, the other is for assassination. Because do you know what happens to someone who doesn’t have a way to relieve the effects of the Glanari saliva?”

“About to find out. Sorry, K, I…” desperately, he let himself go, no longer denying his hand the opportunity to go where it wanted to go. It was obvious the other man knew exactly what his dilemma was, though his method of sympathizing left something to be desired.

“No problem, sport. You do what you need to do. Now as I was saying, if you don’t relieve the effects of the saliva, it tends to grow worse until the veins burst, and then the heart—”

J’s eyes got wide with panic and his voice was shrill. “You’re saying I’m going to explode? ‘Cause that is NOT in the job description.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your little problem there.” K spied an alley that looked relatively safe. “Now there’s a bag by your feet from the sandwiches. Reach in there for the extra mayo packet.”

“Mayo?” he panted.

“Don’t question me, just do it.”

J wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he did, and then he noticed they were parked. “I’ll just get out and, uh, do my thing, you know?”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t? Like hell,” J opened his door and swung out, desperately grappling to pull down his zipper.

K slowly opened his door, slammed it shut and then walked around to the other side of the car. “I mean, you probably won’t be able to manage it by yourself—most can’t. In its concentrated form, Glanari salvia is generally too powerful for that. It requires…additional attention. How else do you think it works in assassinations? Get the victim alone, make sure he or she has no outlet…” He tore open the mustard packet and spread it on his hands. It didn’t smell great, particularly after sitting in a hot car for the better part of a day, but it was at least properly oily.

J realized his partner’s intent and backed up, trying to keep his undone slacks from falling down around his knees. “No way, K. No way in HELL!”

“Damn it, kid, knock it off. Do you know how hard it would be to have to train up another partner? Now put your hands against the car and brace yourself.”

J briefly considered running, but the mere thought of giving in sent another thrill of arousal through him so sharp he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. “Fine!” he practically yelled. “Fine. Just make it fast. And K?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Your idea of foreplay sucks.”

K laughed slightly. “My first girlfriend said the same thing.” He positioned himself behind his partner and reached around J’s waist to pull down the boxers and wrap his hand around the source of J’s discomfort.

J released a moan and felt his knees buckle.

“None of that now,” he rolled his thumb across the tip and gripped the shaft firmly. With his other hand, K began to massage the scrotum. Eventually, he managed a rhythm, twisting and rotating his mayo-slicked hand as he slid it up and down the shaft, catching the head with every stroke.

Mentally, J found himself trying to rebel against the idea of what he was doing, and more especially with whom, but physically…he began to thrust wildly. Damn aliens. That was the last thought he had before it swelled through him, hitting him harder than a freight train as he came and it took all the power he had to strangle the noise in his throat to a mere growl. He continued to shake and barely managed to hold himself upright as K pulled away.

“Damn it, K, it’s New York,” J commented, still panting against the car. “Couldn’t we just have found me a hooker?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” K grinned as he used the few napkins from the sandwich bag to clean his hands. “Look at it this way. At least now I don’t have to get you a Christmas present.”

“Like hell you don’t. And K? We are NEVER telling Zed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned, rather smug about the other’s discomfort.

J was quiet for a minute, before realizing his newest predicament. “You wouldn’t, ah, have any more of those napkins, would you?”

“Nope. Sorry, slick. And I do mean slick.”

“Figures.” Oh well, he thought. It was a very good thing the suits were practically made out of Teflon, or he’d be replacing them on a daily basis instead of every other week, and really, considering the bits of Glanari gore that still clung to him, it wasn’t exactly like he wasn’t already covered in things he’d rather not be covered in. Finally, he just gave up and gathered himself before getting into the car.

“By the way, do I want to know where you learned that skill, K? Because DAMN.”

The corner of K’s mouth twitched as he started the car. “No, probably not.” He didn’t notice as J took the silver cylinder out of his pocket.

It hadn’t been that bad, J realized, and he was even a bit curious what other talents K had, but that could wait for later, he thought. Maybe another lifetime. In the meantime, he was happy to repress such thoughts. Though it might be worth remembering…he hesitated for a moment, and almost pulled out the protective sunglasses, but finally decided against it. No, safer not to. Still, it wasn’t his own memory he was so worried about; mainly, he just wanted to make sure K would never bring it up at in inopportune and embarrassing time as he was sure to do.

“Hey, K. Look over here for a moment.”

“Huh.”

“Consider this your Christmas present to me.”

The neuralizer flashed.

END

BOOKS

Horatio Hornblower - Bush/other, Bush/Horatio

Author: Juxian Tang
Title: Cutting Edge
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bush/other, Bush/Horatio UST
Summary: New Year night and no one wants to be alone. So, Bush finds comfort where he can.
Show: Horatio Hornblower
Date of publication: December 12, 2004
Disclaimer: Horatio Hornblower belongs to C.S. Forester; the show belongs to A&E Entertainment
Feedback address: juxiantang@hotmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Big thanks to Tamara for help and fast beta!

CUTTING EGDE

There, behind the wall, was a female cracked voice purring a song in a quiet, mournful way - through the clinking of mugs colliding in toasts and drunken laughter. And here, for him, there was only darkness and metallic hot taste in his mouth - he had bitten his lip through not to make a sound when the man entered him. Pressing his forehead to the wall, Bush gave in to the rough, callused fingers gripping his hips, pulling him closer, deeper onto the thrusting cock.

The door to the inn was a thin line of light on the left of him - and on the right there was a door to the back yard, cold air coming through it. A tiny dune of snow was drifted on the threshold, white. They had had white Christmas and now it was a white New Year. He remembered how much it seemed to matter when he was a child. It seemed to be one more joy out of many - running out to the new, absolutely untouched layer of snow, playing with it - his sisters always shoved handfuls of it behind his collar.

Bush smiled thinking about it, even now - a strange distraction, while his body was yanked, handled like a thing, shoved down to meet the thrusts. But he was always good at distractions, at being able to create illusions - illusions that made life seem bearable for a while.

"So clean." The man was talking, non-stop - an endless stream of words pouring from his mouth as his pelvis worked, slamming wildly. "A real gentleman, ain't you? Do you like it?"

He made a meaningless half-snort in reply. A confirmation from him was not necessary. It was not the point whether he liked it.

And there was no denial that he did.

He was hard - despite brutality of copulation, despite shame, even despite pain: he'd got out of habit, hadn't been taken for a while and the man did nothing to make it easier. But pain was good - Bush wanted it like that, he'd chosen this man exactly because it didn't look like he would be kind.

He hoped it would be easier this way. This way he wouldn't be tempted to confuse, to imagine for a moment...

Dark shining eyes that used to be so warm - now ruthless, pushing him away almost like with physical force, warning: 'Don't come any closer'. As if he were an enemy. Then Bush wanted to scream - I'm not your enemy, I want to be your friend. But he knew he couldn't say that - Horatio wouldn't listen. Horatio, his beautiful Captain. His wounding blade. His poison.

Thinking of him hurt - much more than the cock sliding in and out of him.

"Come on, cry for me. Let me 'ear your voice, beg me now."

He didn't answer; the man might have had his own way to trigger the arousal but Bush didn't have to play his game. He wanted it as it was, painful, impersonal and humiliating, in the corridor of a dirty inn, pressed to the cold wall - with a stranger. And he wanted to feel torn, wanted every thrust to feel like a red-hot rod was pushed in his rectum.

He wanted his release and punishment both.

He did make a sound at a particularly hard thrust, with a twist, and the man laughed, and Bush felt his own mouth curve in a smile. He wished the pain could change something. Could batter the wrong thoughts out of him. But there was no hope - at least not when he couldn't stop thinking.

He thought about Horatio with his family this night - Horatio smiling at his wife with his charming, achingly warm smile - over the glass of wine - and catching her infatuated, adoring gaze. This night they would spend in their bed, together, the heat of their bodies mingling.

He pressed his palms to the wall. Stop thinking. Stop tormenting yourself.

It was madness. But what else could he do - except for what he was doing?

"I like blue eyes, d'you 'ear me? I like fucking you, you bastard, did anyone fuck you like me?"

And the coarse fingers played with his queue, pulling it, almost rudely, yanking - but the dirty words falling from the man's lips were lulling. He liked it. He enjoyed it. He needed it.

Horatio... I'm sorry.

There had been time when Bush tried to deceive himself. When he hoped he could be normal, could give what his sisters expected from him - a family, children. The war was going to be over one day - then it would've been possible. But he knew he would never do it. He was a lost cause.

A sodomite. Bush wanted to stop doing it - stop defiling Horatio with his thoughts, at least at this moment, when someone whose name he didn't even know - someone whose gaze he'd caught fifteen minutes ago in the crowded, celebrating inn - was slamming into him violently, shoving him against the wall, whispering obscenities to him.

"I'll make you tell me how much you like it, I'll make you..."

He thought about the Renown. How bright and happy and in peace with himself Horatio had been there. It seemed to Bush then that something was possible, when he met Horatio's gaze, so open... almost ready to answer him.

But nothing ever happened. Did he miss his chance, in his unwillingness to despoil someone who was so pure as Horatio Hornblower? Or did Bush never even have a chance?

It was the New Year night - the night when people were making plans and giving promises. But he knew everything that could have been was the past.

And so all he had was the heavy body pressing him against the wall, and heavy breath hot over his ear. And a soft clicking sound of a sling blade opened, cold metal at his throat.

Maybe that's how it's meant to end, Bush thought - and the fear in this knowledge was much more ephemeral than the hot joy suddenly washing over him. It would be over and he would be free, of his shame, of his perversion, of the haunting thoughts. Maybe it was what he always hoped for.

But the thrusts didn't stop, and his body was answering - to being taken, being filled - and he shivered, his teeth chattering, as the strongest surge of climax came over him. He pressed back, towards the entering cock, accepting it deeper - and came. And the man behind him groaned and rocked, also coming.

The blade was still against his skin, not even breaking it.

And Bush still liked feeling it. Maybe more than anything else this night.

"You fool," the man whispered against his ear, his voice harsh with exhaustion. "So this is what you wanted? You crazy son of bitch..."

And very slightly, aware of the sharp blade touching him, Bush nodded.

Yes, he was crazy. He was even worse than one could imagine. And he would live with the memory of this feeling - metal against his throat - and with blue bruises on his hips - for a long time, until it became unbearable again and he went looking for another man who would be able to quench his need.

But till then - he would be everything his Captain wanted him to be - everything Horatio needed.

"What is your name?" the man asked, his voice still husky, his body leaning heavily over Bush's. His fingers played with the untied ribbon of his queue.

Bush could have lied, it was easy - no one would know. But suddenly he thought of the pleasure than surged through him when he heard Horatio say his Christian name - which happened more and more seldom recently - and it a strange way it made him answer.

"William."

He didn't ask the man's name - and the man spoke up again.

"What ship are you from?"

He didn't say anything at that and the man chuckled - likely he didn't expect an answer. There had been nothing between them but a crime, a sin - something that was dangerous and corrupt and could destroy them both.

"See you... William."

And there was pain of the cock leaving his body - and cold when the man moved away. Even with this anonymous body against his it had been warmer than now, when Bush was alone.

He felt wide open and sticky - and dressed quickly, wincing in shame. And yet he knew he'd think of this moment many times, in his loneliness, think of the blade against his throat.

He knew what expected him in future - this year, 1804, would be just like the previous one. He would *never* be with Horatio. Sometimes it was difficult to live with this thought. All he would have would be an inn, and an exchange of glances, and a short, dangerous tryst somewhere at the back door. Until a bullet of a Frog or the sea cut his life short.

* * *

"I hope you had a good time last night, Mr. Bush."

"Yes, sir, thank you. And you?"

"I... It seems I anticipate certain changes in my family, William. Mrs. Hornblower... I suppose I'm going to be a father."

"Congratulations, sir. It is... it is a good news."

THE END

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Cyane Snape
Title: The Twelve Hours of Christmas
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Severus Snape begins to receive presents…every hour on the hour…but who could possibly care enough about Snape to send him presents?
Book: Harry Potter series
Date of publication: December 12, 2004
Disclaimer: : The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, and anyone else with legitimate rights. No profit is being made by this site or the authors it houses, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form.
Feedback address: lucretiamalfoy@excite.com 
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Beta: Gavilan

The Twelve Hours of Christmas

Severus Snape sat in his regular spot at the Head Table in the Great Hall. People were milling in and out, sitting down at their expected places. Albus Dumbledore sat to Severus’ left and Minerva McGonagall next to Albus. The seat on Severus’ right remained vacant as it had been for the last two months. Even after all this time, the empty space reeked from the raw magic of the man who had once sat there.

It was Christmas Eve and everyone in the castle had gathered for breakfast. Very few students had elected to remain at Hogwarts for the holidays. Since the supposed death of Voldemort two months ago, the Wizarding world had been thrown into a constant series of congratulatory speeches and celebrations. Severus had finally received his Order of Merlin, First Class and immediately after the elaborate ceremony, returned to his quarters and thrown the bloody thing into the far corners of his sitting room. He hadn’t seen the damn thing since.

School governors, Ministry officials, students and staff had enjoyed the never-ending party to celebrate the destruction of the Dark Lord at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Snape sighed and buried his head in his hands. Correction. You can’t say that any more can you, Severus? The Boy-Who-Lived is now the Man-Who-Died.

~*~

The morning owl post brought a flurry of tawny owls into the Great Hall. The most amazing part was that each and every professor in the school had an identical eagle owl perched directly in front of him or her. Each owl had a package attached to its leg.

Severus removed the package and saw a small bit of parchment written in an unknown handwriting.

Dear Severus,

Just a quick note to wish you a Happy Christmas and that all your dreams for the New Year will come true. Love is a very special gift that should be shared. This is the first of your gifts and because of the undying love I have for you, I have given each of the other teachers a special gift.

Someone who loves you.

Severus opened the gift and saw twelve new Ever-Inking quills lying in the box. It was an expensive, if not overtly personal, gift.

Who would send me a gift? Is this some kind of practical joke?

The Potions Master looked at each of the staff members to see if he was the brunt of a sick joke. Each one of them was admiring their gift. No one was laughing at Severus. The wizard tucked the gift under his arm and stormed off to his dungeons.

No one makes a fool of Severus Snape.

~*~

Promptly at eight o’clock another eagle owl flew into Severus’ private rooms, just as he was leaving for his staff meeting. There was another package tied to the owl’s leg with another short note. Inside the box were eleven rolls of parchment. The wizard opened the attached note to read:

My Dear Severus,

Please accept these eleven rolls of enchanted parchment as a token of my deep feelings for you. These parchments are voice-activated and re-usable. To eliminate any writing, just say aloud, “Erase!” and they will be cleared. They have been charmed to respond only to your incredible, deep voice.

Someone Who Loves You

Snape dropped the package on his sofa and left his room without a second glance.

~*~

A third package arrived at nine o’clock containing ten rare piranha-toads from the Amazon rainforest. The venom collected from the toads was priceless. Severus didn’t know anyone with the amount of money needed to purchase such rare animals. He very carefully placed the creatures in his private potions storeroom, still wondering about this secret admirer.

The fourth package arrived in the middle of his one-on-one weekly meeting with the Headmaster. This new gift contained nine veela hairs. Snape fought the tears that threatened to form in his eyes and quietly said, “Please excuse me, Albus.” The Potions Master left the Headmaster’s office, seeking the sanctuary of his rooms. The nine perfect, long veela hairs sat in the ornately wrapped box. He knew it was silly to get emotional over veela hairs. They were just another potions ingredient, but veela hairs had a new meaning for the wizard. Harry’s new wand had veela hair and dragon heart-string at its core.

~*~

Only the Headmaster and Minerva McGonagall were aware of the intense personal relationship between Severus Snape and Harry Potter. The mutual attraction had begun during Harry’s seventh year, but the two wizards had wisely refused to act on that attraction. They had spent most of the summer together working for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had yet again thrown off an attack from Voldemort when the Dark Lord had attacked Hogwarts a few days before the end of the school term. Again it ended in a stand-off with the brother wands effectively useless against each other. The two wizards’ wands had shattered during the confrontation, making each wizard weak from the force of the power. Voldemort made a hasty retreat to gather up his minions as Harry slumped to the floor, nearly dead.

Severus had carried Harry’s body to the Infirmary and sat by his side until Madam Pomfrey guaranteed his recovery. Sitting by the bed, that night, made Snape realize that he did indeed truly love the brat named Harry Potter.

~*~

At eleven o’clock yet another package arrived in Snape’s quarters. This time the box contained eight new sets of wizard robes of silk and velvet that were bordered in green, red, silver, blue, gold as well as three sets of formal dress robes in black, darkest midnight blue and forest green.

This has gone too far. I have got to put a stop to this. I don’t want any of this.

Severus stormed into the Great Hall for lunch just in time to see another owl land in front of his plate. This time the bird carefully set down a wooden crate with packing seeping from its seams. Inside the box, carefully wrapped were seven Polynesian pygmy dragon eggs.

These eggs are worth a king’s ransom. Who in Merlin’s name has enough money and power to collect SEVEN Polynesian pygmy dragon eggs?

Someone was going to a lot of effort and expense to get Severus’ attention, but this was not the kind of attention the Potions Master wanted. All he wanted was Harry…and Harry was dead.

~*~

Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts a year ago as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He had really hoped that he could be the one to end the curse on the position. He and Severus had worked side by side during the day and spent many intimate evenings sharing each other’s company.

The two professors moved freely through the castle, often patrolling at identical times. They could be seen shopping in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, but no one ever suspected the truth in their relationship.

Harry Potter and Severus Snape had fallen in love…with each other.

Harry kept the secret from his friends because he knew they would never understand how he could be attracted to his former professor. They couldn’t understand how the sound of his voice drove Harry wild, nor could they understand the magic found in the older man’s fingers as he caressed the younger wizard’s body. And both wizards kept the secret because that knowledge placed each of them in even more danger from the Dark Lord. Neither man wanted to be the tool Voldemort used to destroy his lover.

The two wizards had quiet dates in London and shared private dinners in the dungeons, planning offensive strikes against the Dark Lord. They often spoke of their feelings but they refused to talk about the future. Harry and Severus knew that they would only be free to love when Lord Voldemort was finally dead.

~*~

Promptly at one o’clock a new pair of eagle owls dropped into Severus’ office leaving another heavy package on his desk. Upon inspection, Snape discovered six bottles of exquisite Napoleon brandy.

All right…who ever this is, they know my greatest vice -- a fine glass of brandy. NO! I will not dishonor Harry’s memory with mere trifles. Someone is playing a cruel trick.

The two o’clock hour brought Severus five priceless one-of-a-kind Potions books, each volume a first edition reprint manuscript of Salazar Slytherin’s personal journals. At three, the eagle owl delivered four perfect phoenix feathers.

Severus Snape sat down in his well-worn chair and sobbed into his hands.

~*~

Dumbledore’s phoenix Fawkes had disappeared the day Harry died. The Headmaster had sent his familiar to Romania to try to find Harry. The final battle against Voldemort had taken place in Romania where Harry had gone to recruit the vampires to the Light side. The Headmaster had refused to allow Severus to accompany the young wizard, instead sending several Aurors and his two friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Snape’s job was to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy. The young wizard had turned to the side of Light after finishing school and had been feeding the Order valuable information all summer. It was through his connections that Dumbledore learned that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had gone to Romania trying to contact the vampires.

That final battle had been brutal and vicious. Harry had left Hogwarts two weeks prior to the Halloween Feast. He had traveled in and out of several clans of vampires, enlisting most of them in the Order’s cause. All Harry had promised them was to work for equal rights and representation for vampires under the wizard laws. No one had heard from Harry since. There had been many horrible battles with many lost in the struggle. After two weeks of constant fighting many of the Death Eaters had been killed and the Order had declared the battle a victory.

But no one had seen Harry Potter or Lord Voldemort in days.

During the Halloween Feast, a searing pain shot up Severus’ arm. His dark mark burned but it wasn’t calling him and suddenly it disappeared. Not even a small scar remained on the Potions Master’s forearm. He showed his arm to the Headmaster, his eyes regaining their former twinkle. The old man smiled at the wizard he loved as a son.

“It’s over, Severus. Voldemort’s dead. It’s finally over.”

“Are you sure? This could be a trick. Is it really over?” Severus begged of his mentor.

“The only way that mark could disappear was for Voldemort to be dead. It’s over, Severus. Now, Harry can come home.”

But Harry never came home. All they found was his wand.

Aurors searched the countryside and eventually found the remains of the former Tom Riddle. His body had been burned and the ashes scattered to the wind. There was no trace of Harry Potter to be found. The Aurors even failed to trace his magical signature. There was no sign of Harry’s magic anywhere since the night Severus’ dark mark disappeared.

Dumbledore encouraged Severus to begin the long process of healing. His lover, Harry Potter, was dead and Severus wanted to crawl into his shell and die. At least if he died, he would be with Harry.

~*~

Severus sat down for tea at four o’clock and waited for the next eagle owl. He knew that it would come and he knew that he didn’t want whatever it would bring. At least he knew that it would be over soon. The torture of the gifts was counting down and once it had reached a single gift, Severus would be left in peace. It was Christmas Eve and he just didn’t want to deal with this any more.

A lovely white owl delivered that next gift. Upon opening it, Severus discovered three interwoven chains of precious metal: one gold, one silver and one platinum. Dangling from the chains was a small pendant, a pendant in the shape of a fire-breathing dragon with ruby eyes.

Severus remembered just such a dragon. Hagrid, trying desperately to aid the Order of the Phoenix, had secured a mated pair of Hungarian Horntails to aid in the defense of Hogwarts. What he didn’t know was that the female was nesting and very protective of her eggs. Harry and Severus spent most of last February in a tent, in the cold, in Scotland…babysitting a hormonal mother dragon and her nest. At the time it seemed like a very good reason to get drunk.

~*~

Flashback…

After an indeterminable amount of time, Harry and Severus had finally received an owl from Dumbledore saying that they would be relieved of duty in two days time. When they had been sent into the forest, they had not expected to be isolated from the world for weeks. They also didn’t understand why Hagrid had chosen a forest in the far northern reaches of Scotland. To put it precisely, it couldn’t get any colder, wetter or more miserable. The dragon eggs had finally hatched and Charlie Weasley would be arriving from Romania to take over the care of the hatchlings and their mother.

Severus and Harry decided that a celebration was in order. After two full bottles of Firewhiskey, the wizards let down their guard and succumbed to the intoxication of the alcohol.

The two wizards had been living in a tent deep within the forest with nothing but a campfire for warmth. Their tent was of the old Muggle-style. Dumbledore didn’t want their two magical signatures to be traceable, so Harry and Severus had been living as Muggles for weeks.

~*~

Severus’ incoherent speech was interrupted by a roar of laughter as Harry nearly tripped over his own two feet trying to sit down on the log by the campfire.

“You’re drunk, Potter,” Snape smirked, trying to enunciate his own slurred speech. Firewhiskey wasn’t his drink of choice, but under the conditions, he really could care less.

“Damn straight, I am.” Harry let loose with a hysterical giggle. “Well, not exactly, am I? Straight, that is.”

Snape grabbed the bottle of Firewhiskey away from the younger wizard. “You’ve had enough, Potter.”

Harry turned on his mega-watt smile and tried to settle his spinning and bouncing world, slowly making his way to the tent he shared with his former professor. Harry landed in an inelegant heap on the ground inside the tent. Two sleeping bags formed the flooring as the raven-haired man sprawled across both of them.

“Much better…and much quieter. Couldn’t hear myself think out there.”

Severus stumbled into the tent behind Harry just as the clouds opened in a torrential downpour.

Uncharacteristically, Snape sneered, “Fuck, I’ll bet this keeps up all night. We’ll be soaked by morning. I don’t care if Voldemort finds us. Maybe he’ll drown before he kills us.” The older wizard took out his wand and muttered a spell, transforming the two sleeping bags into a large four poster bed with plush pillows and silk sheets.

Harry snuggled into the warmth of the blankets. “Ooooh, good, now we have to share. Come warm me up, Severus. I’m freezing.” He laughed, “Hermione won’t believe this. She says I’ve wanted to get in your bed for years. She’ll never believe me when I tell her I finally made it.” Harry took another long drink from the bottle of alcohol.

Harry laughed hysterically making his metabolism increase the flow of blood in his body. It surged through his veins, circled through his brain and settled in the most obvious place – his groin. His verdant eyes locked with Severus’ onyx ones, each man trying to control his breathing. It was as if there were no other people left in the world.

Harry could only watch as Severus closed the distance between them. The image of the dark haired man swam in front of his eyes, but warm breath flitted across Harry’s parted lips just before Severus covered his mouth completely.

Soon two pairs of hands joined in the party. Severus pulled up the bottom of Harry’s shirt as the younger man began to doggedly unbutton the endless row of buttons on Snape’s robes. As the strong hands began to caress the smooth lines of Harry’s chest, the young man moaned into the mouth capturing his, even as his muscular body trembled with need.

Neither of his best friends was aware of Harry’s long-term relationship with his Potions professor. They had purposefully moved slowly before committing to something permanent. Harry had never dreamed that the man he had lusted after and desired for years would ever return his affections. He also never even noticed that Severus had managed to completely divest him of his clothing.

“Oh, Severus,” the young man groaned as Snape broke the kiss, trailing a path of kisses down the long column of flesh of Harry’s neck. The older wizard’s hand found Harry’s erection, making the young man thrust his hips, seeking the pleasurable friction he so desperately needed.

“Impatient brat,” Severus whispered, “You must learn to have more patience.” The older man bit down on Harry’s shoulder, nearly causing him to come. The only thing preventing his orgasm was Severus’ hand tightly constricting the base of his erection. “Not yet, Harry. I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Severus sucked harder on his mark, deepening the bruise on Harry’s body.

The assault of Severus’ hands and lips completely stole away Harry’s conscious thought processes. He could no more tell you his name than where he was at the moment. The Gryffindor let himself be caught up in the current of passion flowing between the two powerful wizards.

A gentle wave of his wand removed any remaining clothing between the two men. For several long minutes they lay side by side, content to stare at each other. Severus finally pulled Harry’s body into his, “Have you ever been with a man before, Harry? Are you sure that I am the one you want?”

The young wizard shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Yes, please, dear Merlin…YES!”

“What? Yes to what, Harry?”

“Yes to both questions. I’ve done this before and YES I want you.” The rough friction was driving Harry mad, but it wasn’t enough to give him the release he needed. Harry decided that a direct assault would be the best way to handle the situation. The young wizard traced the shell of Severus’ ear with his tongue, making the older man halt his breathing for a moment.

Harry knew he was drunk, but he knew that Severus was also feeling no pain. He could see the smoldering flames in his love’s dark eyes, making him want the Potions Master even more.

"God Sev, just fuck me! I can't…can't take any more of this," he pleaded, his breath catching as Severus pressed a finger against his anal opening, making his neglected erection swell even more. "Severus!"

“I have every intention of fucking you, Mr. Potter, but I will proceed when I am ready. Just be patient.”

Harry released his hold on Severus and lay back against the soft covering. Severus smiled as he took in the beauty of the man stretched out under him. The effects of the alcohol were beginning to dim and Severus was thankful. He wanted to have a clear mind as he buried himself in his beloved. Harry was also losing the effects of the alcohol, however, the hands running up his thighs shot fingers of magic into his body, setting his nerves on end. Severus cautiously avoided the stiff member that Harry so desperately wanted him to touch.

“You are so beautiful, Harry. How could you want to be with someone like me? You could have any man, or woman, that you desired.”

“There is no one else, Severus, only you.” The young man nearly screamed as Snape grasped his oversensitive cock and began pumping it in a smooth, slow motion.

Severus continued torturing Harry with his long, elegant fingers, wrapping them around his cock. “It’s a funny thing about lovers, Harry. Some people come quietly, almost with a sigh. Some people are screamers, coming with a loud cry and groaning through the whole experience. I wonder which one you are.”

Harry moaned in reply as Severus swallowed his erection in one fluid motion. His long dark hair shadowed his face as he teased and sucked Harry’s turgid flesh. Severus released Harry, moving up to capture the young wizard’s lips with his own. “I would be willing to bet you are a ‘screamer’, Harry. Care to prove me wrong?”

The Head of Slytherin kneeled between Harry’s thighs, just touching the young man’s puckered opening. “Relax, Harry, allow yourself to adjust to me.”

“It’s been a long time since I...”

“Then we’ll go slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Severus quickly prepared the younger man with a lubrication spell and a relaxation/preparation charm. He slicked up his own erection and spread Harry’s cheeks open. He slipped a couple of fingers in first, making sure the younger man was at least minimally prepared.

“Are you all right, Harry?”

“Oh, gods, yes. Please, Severus, just fuck me!”

The feeling of Severus pushing at his entrance and fully sheathing himself in Harry’s tight channel was like nothing the young man had ever before experienced. Harry concentrated on the feeling of Severus filling him and moaned as those talented fingers gripped his erection and again began stroking the swollen flesh.

Stars began flashing behind Harry’s eyes as the pleasure and pain mixed to make him feel again drunk and out of control. Moans tore from his throat, rising in volume with each well aimed thrust. Only the overwhelming ecstasy of flying over a Quidditch pitch even came close to the perfection of making love to Severus. The freedom was intoxicating.

A fire in the pit of their souls began to stoke their passion. Was it possible for perfection to be even more perfect? Severus’ tight fist began to rapidly move up and down the length of Harry’s shaft. The younger wizard arched his back as wave after wave of orgasmic rapture crashed over him, granting his release. Severus held back as much as possible. He didn’t want to lose this incredible feeling so soon.

It wasn’t long before Severus could no longer keep himself in check. Harry squeezed the tight muscles surrounding Severus’ cock, forcing a scream out of the dark-eyed man. Harry felt the warmth of Severus’ climax fill him as his lover groaned and collapsed on top of the green-eyed wizard.

Afterwards, Severus drew their bodies together, each man clinging to the warmth and comfort of the other as the two sated lovers drifted to sleep. As Harry fell into the arms of Morpheus, he kissed Severus one more time and whispered, “I love you.”

End Flashback

~*~

They had loved each other long before, but Harry and Severus had taken the final step and become lovers that cold February night. The relationship remained a secret for their protection.

At five o’clock, Severus decided to open one of the bottles of brandy. He downed the first glass in one gulp, then he pour himself a second shot. This day had done nothing but remind him of everything he had ever shared with Harry. If anything, it only served to reinforce his pain and loneliness.

A sharp rap at the owl window alerted the Potions Master to his latest arrival. He waved his wand, opening the owl door for the impatient messenger. A very small box was attached to its leg. Severus removed the silver box and offered the owl a treat. He sat back down in his favorite chair and examined the small gift.

With a feeling of dread, Severus opened the small box. Nestled carefully inside, two beautiful rings of gold and platinum lay side-by-side. He sat frozen, unable to think…unable to move. He stared at the rings for nearly a half an hour, tears continuously streaming down his face. Why was someone doing this to him? No one knew about his relationship with Harry? Did this admirer truly intend for these gifts to please the professor? Was someone actually in love with him?

He removed one of the bands from the box, examining it carefully. The gold and platinum bands were