December 21

CRIME

Due South - Fraser/Kowalski

Author: HYPERFocused
Title: A Christmas Story
Date: December 21st
Fandom: Due South, Crime
Pairing: Fraser/Ray K
Rating: R
Summary: Just a little fun in front of the TV.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, they’d still be on the air.
Feedback address: HYPERfocused@aol.com 
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Note: My first foray into the DS fandom. Thank you kindly for any feedback.
Beta: Amy again. It’s not really her fandom, so if I’ve made any mistakes, it’s all my fault.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

It was a few weeks until Christmas, but nobody in Chicago seemed to be feeling the holiday spirit. Not the impersonal sales clerks at Marshall Fields, whose ‘Happy Holidays, Thank you for shopping at Fields,” had been accompanied by the spraying of colognes that smelled nothing like the natural elements they were supposed to emulate; or the impatient customers waiting in line to buy “Aunt Sue or Uncle Mike” the obligatory soon to be returned gift.

Certainly the perpetrators of their last case had no goodness in their souls. A whole warehouse full of that season’s most prized childhood possession, a set of dolls that Fraser found hideous in the extreme, had been tampered with, their battery cavities painted with a slow acting poison. If not for Ray’s quick thinking, and Fraser’s steady deductive reasoning, there could have been thousands of Christmas morning deaths.

Fraser’s admiration for Ray had grown even stronger after Ray explained to him how he’d figured out Frank’s nefarious plans. ‘It wasn’t the counterfeit dolls, Fraser. That’s small potatoes for someone like Frank Todd. It was the batteries. Those are the bane of every parent’s existence on Christmas morning.”

“I had no idea. I never received a Christmas present that needed them.”

“Damn, Frase. Every kid should have something beeping and whirring under the tree on Christmas morning.”

“We didn’t really have that, either. Sometimes I would make paper garlands out of old magazine pages. But it was no big deal. My grandparents didn’t believe all the hoopla was necessary.”

“That’s just sad. Grandparents are supposed to be big on Christmas.”

“Maybe it’s different when you live with them.”

“So what did you get?”

“Oranges. Sometimes my grandmother would give me the sweater she had knitted for me, though she was just as likely to give it on any other day.”

“Are you sure you weren’t Jewish?”

“Quite sure. Why?”

“’Cause those sound like Hanukkah presents. And what kind of gift is an orange?”

“There’s nothing wrong with receiving practical gifts, Ray.”

“But oranges? Kinda cheap, if you ask me.”

“Oranges were a real treat that North in the winter. ”

“Still doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Fraser had no argument with that.

When the paperwork was done, they were free. Fraser figured Ray would have some sort of pre-holiday plans. A party, or even a date. He wasn’t expecting it when Ray asked him to come for dinner.

“I’ll order something nice. Not pizza this time. And we can watch A Christmas Story on the TV. Ever seen that?”

“No, Ray. I don’t think I have.”

“It’s a great movie. You’ll love it. It has a leg lamp.” Fraser had no idea what that meant. He didn’t care. He was just happy to spend the time with his partner. His best friend.

“If you say so, I’m sure I will. Should I bring anything?”

“Nope, just your holiday spirit. Oh, and you can bring Dief, of course.” Ray slapped him on the back, and headed out of the precinct.

They’d finished up the Thai food, Fraser finding it spicy and delicious, and were just settling onto the sofa to watch the movie. “See, the narrator is also the little boy with the glasses, Ralphie. He’s looking back at his life as a kid. Just watch, it’s funny.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, Ray.”

“Oh, and there’s a certain part in it that reminds me of you. See if you can figure it out.”

“All right.”

They watched silently for a while, and Ray was right. Fraser did enjoy it. The movie had a warm, irreverent feeling that made Fraser think of what Ray must have been like as a child. He wished they could have been friends back then.

He recognized the scene Ray had said reminded him of Fraser immediately. “Ray! I would never do that. I know better than to lick metal in winter.” He was almost offended.

“I figured, but you know how you are about licking things.”

Fraser laughed, and admitted he did. “I’d like to be licking you, Ray,” he didn’t say.

“So, you’re telling me that the entire point of this film is this boy’s desire for a particular air rifle?” Fraser asked, reaching a hand into the large bowl of popcorn Ray had made at the last commercial break. That his fingers brushed Ray’s while he did so wasn’t something to cause him complaint. He loved touching Ray, even if these small, semi-accidental events did little to assuage the depth of his affection and longing for the man. A little bit of happiness was better than nothing. Anything more would have been far too indulgent than Fraser deserved.

“Well, that’s the story, but really it’s about the nostalgia all adults have for their childhood Christmases.”

“That’s rather profound, Ray.”

Ray grinned, tapping himself on the forehead. “What, you think I just use this to grow hair?”

“No, Ray. I think you have a fine mind, and I see evidence that you use it every day. You were the one who figured out what Frank Todd was doing with those dolls.”

“Thanks, Fraser.” They sat quietly a while, watching the movie. Fraser half watched the film, but more of his attention was on Ray, enjoying Ray’s laughter. It had been a rough month, and Fraser was glad to see Ray feeling freer.

“Did you ever have anything like that, Frase?” Ray’s voice was quiet, but it shook him out of his reverie.

“A bb gun? No, there wasn’t really a need for toy weapons.”

“Every kid needs toys, Fraser. It’s like a law.” Fraser looked at him, and Ray looked back with his inimitable ‘ Just dare to disagree with me’ expression. “No, I mean something you wanted so badly when you were a kid that it was all you thought about.”

“No, Ray, not when I was a child.” He’d wanted his mother to be alive again, and for his father -- but there was no point in wishing for the impossible. There still wasn’t. Toys would have been nice, he guessed, but he had done all right amusing himself. He hadn’t had much of a choice.

Sometimes Fraser forgot how well Ray understood him, even when he hadn’t said anything. “But there is now?”

Fraser didn’t know what it was that was making him so loose lipped. Perhaps the mulled wine was stronger than he’d thought. Or perhaps it was just – time. Before he could stop himself, it slipped out. “Yes, Ray.”

“So what is it? What is it you dream about? What turns Benton Fraser’s crank?” Ray turned towards him, so close Fraser could smell him, wintery bright and warmly spicy. Before he could stop himself, the damning words slipped out.

“You do.”

“Well, that’s just wrong.”

Fraser knew he shouldn’t have said anything. Now he’d ruined both the friendship, and any chances of a pleasant holiday for both of them. “I’m sorry, Ray.” He got up and began to gather his belongings; sure Ray wouldn’t want him there now that he knew Fraser’s true nature.

“Where are you going? You don’t have to leave.”

“I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to tell you…”

“Fraser, I meant it was wrong that you didn’t get what you wanted. You deserve to be happy.” Ray’s next words were quieter. “I deserve to be happy, too.”

“Yes, Ray, you do. What would make you happy?” Fraser couldn’t suppress the bright spark of hope he felt when Ray clicked the remote off, and patted the seat next to him. Maybe they were on the same wavelength after all.

Fraser never did find out whether the boy got his air rifle, though he suspected the film would have a happy ending. “We’ll have eleven more chances to watch this,” Ray assured him, as he moved to kiss Fraser.

If smelling Ray had been nice, kissing him was wonderful. He tasted amazing. Fraser didn’t want to stop, the need to breathe be damned. From the feel of Ray, hard and hot against him even through his jeans, Fraser could tell he didn’t either. Finally, though, Ray got up and took him by the hand, leading him into the bedroom.

“Come on. Our knees will thank us for this later,” he said. Fraser watched as Ray began stripping off his clothes as they headed down the hall. “What about you, Fraser? Aren’t you going to show me what you got?”

“It would only be fair, Ray.” He tried to work a little faster. But when he saw Ray standing fully nude in front of him, he couldn’t stop himself from staring. Ray was beautiful; a line drawing done with speed and passion, capturing the essence of movement and grace.

Fraser could tell Ray was at least a little nervous as well, and that reassured him. “Are you all right?” Ray asked him, flushing a little.

“I’m more than all right, Ray.” Fraser swiftly finished undressing, and pulled Ray down on top of him onto the bed. It felt so good to be this close to Ray after all this time. Pressing close, their erections brushing together. Fraser could have finished this way without a complaint, but Ray moved lower before he got that close

“That’s for sure. You’re perfect. I want to suck you. I can, can’t I?” Ray didn’t really wait for an answer.

This was lucky, because Fraser gasped, then nodded, but couldn’t say anything at all. Embarrassingly, the words that popped into his mind when Ray’s talented, talkative mouth finally closed around him? “You’ll put your eye out, kid!”

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Andromeda - Dylan Hunt/Gaheris Rhade

Author: Angyl & Orithain
Title: Invitation
Date: December 21, 2004
Fandom: Andromeda/Science Fiction
Pairing: Dylan Hunt/Gaheris Rhade
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dylan extends an invitation to Rhade.
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: angyl@rogers.com , orithain67@sympatico.ca
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Set pre-fall and pre-engagement to Sara.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Invitation
By Angyl & Orithain
December 21, 2004
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dylan watched his first officer over the chessboard, musing that Gaheris Rhade seemed incapable of approaching any activity in any way other than as if it were a life or death situation. As usual, Dylan was losing the game, though he managed to challenge the Nietzschean more than most, according to Rhade.

"Did you know that Tarn Vedra has a mid-winter festival?" Dylan asked suddenly.

"I _did_ attend the Highguard Academy on the planet, Captain," Gaheris pointed out dryly as he moved his piece after careful deliberation. "I seem to recall seeing events on campus and around the planet as well as numerous inebriated people wandering around in formal attire. I never could grasp the need to binge on highly caloric food and drink oneself into a stupor. Checkmate in two moves."

Dylan frowned at the board, seeking a way out, but he finally tipped his king. "One of these days I'm going to beat you, Rhade," he stated emphatically. "However, to return to the Midwinter Festival, did you also know that my family is from Tarn Vedra?"

"No, you're not," Gaheris said with a ghost of a smile. "You play to compete; I play to win.

"And, yes, I'm aware your family is from Tarn Vedra. Your mother is a heavy worlder and a high G shuttle pilot; your father is one of the imperial horticulturalists in the palace of the Empress. You grew up in the human quarter of the capital city Beshana-Tarn, and you were a student of Admiral Stark. _Is_ there a reason why I need to know all of this information, by the way?" the Nietzschean continued with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Dylan sighed. "Not every situation has tactical applications, Rhade. I was attempting to invite you to join me for the festival since our orders will allow the _Andromeda_ to be at Tarn Vedra at the right time. I've already let my family know I'll be there and that I might be bringing a friend."

Rhade's eyebrow went even higher at that. "I see," he said, giving Dylan the once over. "Very well, I accept.

"Shall we switch to Go? You actually made me work for a win last match."

"Yes, I've noticed that you like a challenge. Then again, so do I." Dylan leaned back in his chair, sipping his brandy, as he eyed Rhade.

"And you're about as close to a real challenge as I will get without returning to my Pride home," Gaheris replied blandly as he packed away the chess set and got up to retrieve the Go board. "While on Tarn Vedra I should pick up a few baubles for my wives and some weapons for my children. And then you can... show me the sights," the Nietzschean finished mildly.

"I look forward to it. The Midwinter Festival is a time of great joy and celebration, and it's best enjoyed with a close companion." Dylan sipped his brandy and surveyed the board Rhade had set up before reaching out and making his first move.

"A brother in arms, so to speak," Rhade agreed, making his own move. "One you can share _intimate_ moments with, even."

Dylan eyed him askance over the board, taken aback by the abrupt putting into words of what they had never acknowledged. "It is a possibility," he finally said.

"Keep telling yourself that, Captain," Rhade smiled hungrily. "The invitation... it was you opening the door to what we both already knew existed between us.

"I've served you for four years; you think I haven't smelled it, the arousal, the desire? I thought you were being typically human and ignoring what was happening. Now, however, your invitation has forced me to reevaluate your reactions.

"I see no reason to hide behind these intricate courtship dances you humans insist upon. However, I understand your need to do so. I am therefore informing you that I am interested and will await the time when you are more comfortable with the idea," Rhade continued calmly as he made a great leap towards victory in the game with a cunning move, executed successfully thanks to Dylan's obvious distraction.

Gaping at his first officer and friend, Dylan sat there, game and drink forgotten in his bemusement. Finally he nodded sharply and leaned over the board with no warning, his hands grasping Rhade's shoulders for balance as he kissed the Nietzschean.

Gaheris chuckled against Dylan's lips. Perhaps there was hope for the High Guard captain yet. Sweeping his arm across the table, Rhade sent the Go board flying and, bracing himself, hauled Dylan across the low table to allow for a better angle of attack.

Dylan groaned and allowed himself to be moved bodily, his mouth opening to invite Rhade to take more.

Hands coming up to hold Dylan's head still, Rhade thrust his tongue into Dylan's mouth, claiming it as his, fingers flexing constantly. He grinned when Dylan at last broke the kiss to gasp in much needed oxygen. "So, Captain, does this mean we'll be spending the winter festival in bed, or will I actually get to see the sights as well?"

"It means that we'll be able to warm up nicely when we go back home after seeing the sights," Dylan said once he'd caught his breath. "Though my parents do expect me to come over for dinner at least one night. I'd like it if you came too."

"You want me to meet your parents?" Rhade raised one eyebrow. "Should I be expecting a marriage proposal as well?" he teased.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Many of my friends have met my parents. Not everyone has a place to stay on Tarn Vedra, so I often bring people home with me. They just usually have their own room."

"And just how will you explain my staying in a room with you?" Rhade wondered, curious as to how humans would handle something that was very commonplace amongst Nietzchean males, a ritual taken from the ancient Spartans, of shield brothers who bonded in the bedroom and on the battlefield.

Dylan shrugged. "Why would I have to explain it? I rather doubt anyone will come over and check our sleeping arrangements or that anyone would care."

"So there will be no surprise visits from your parents? Good. I wouldn't want to kill them by accident when they surprised me from a night of fucking their son," Rhade grinned, waiting to see what Dylan's reaction to his claim would be.

"My parents haven't dropped in on me when I had company since I was in my teens," Dylan replied. He eyed Rhade challengingly over the table, having subsided back into his own seat. "It sounds like we won't be seeing too many of the morning events."

"Well, you won't anyway. Nietzscheans have greater stamina," Gaheris smirked.

"You forget I'm half heavy-worlder," Dylan retorted.

"You think you can keep up with me, Captain Hunt? To quote my superior officer, 'bring it.'"

Dylan laughed and stood up, slowly backing toward the doorway to his bedroom, eyes never leaving Rhade's. "Shall we find out who gives up first?" he challenged.

"A Nietzschean never surrenders. We would die before such a dishonor. No matter if we are captured, tortured, we are unbreakable. You think you can make me so weak, Dylan?" Rhade laughed, getting up and moving forward, stalking his prey hungrily.

Dylan unfastened his uniform tunic and tossed it aside, leaving himself bare-chested as he continued backing toward the bed. "I think it's going to be fun to try. And you might want to give a thought to mutual surrender. It's very pleasurable."

"Ahh, but so is total conquest. I can picture you writhing and begging under me with great ease. I think I approve of the dichotomy; you command me on the bridge and in battle while I command you in the bedroom. Yes, that would work quite nicely for me," Gaheris mulled as he stripped with casual efficiency, as comfortable in his own skin as he was in his High Guard uniform.

Dylan shuddered, Rhade's words making him harden almost painfully as he seemingly effortlessly stripped bare Dylan's darkest fantasies. "I think that could be arranged," he managed in a husky murmur, throat constricted by lust. Never looking way from the dark gaze, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to remove his boots, then unfastened the pants, his erection immediately pushing free.

Smelling the spike in Dylan's arousal, Rhade growled appreciatively. "So, the idea of not being in control appeals to you, does it? Then perhaps we should begin. Have the Andromeda go into privacy mode; the only interruptions should be Admiral Stark or higher and only if the galaxy as we know it is about to come to an end. Do it, _Dylan_, now."

Staring at him, Dylan gave the order to Andromeda, ignoring her half-voiced protest, intent upon his first officer. "So now what?" he challenged, not about to make this easy for Rhade.

"The rest of your clothes. Remove them. I want to be able to see what it is that I'm claiming," Gaheris replied as he ghosted around Dylan, not even attempting to touch him, and sprawled across the bed to watch.

Dylan frowned at the order and Gaheris' attitude, taking a step backward instead. "This may have been a mistake." While he'd liked the idea of Rhade taking the lead, he did _not_ like the idea of total submission. It wasn't in his personality, and Rhade was going too far, too fast. "Perhaps we should just plan to enjoy the festival," he suggested, still retreating.

"It appears I've overstepped my bounds, my apologies, Dylan. If you'd like, I can get dressed and leave, and we can forget this ever happened, go back to being captain and first officer," Rhade offered, getting up off of the bed and reaching for his clothes. "I forgot myself. It will not happen again."

"No," Dylan sighed, "that's not what I want. But I am not a slave, Rhade, nor will I ever be one. Must everything be so extreme? Can't we just enjoy each other without one of us having to be submissive?"

"I thought you'd fight back; it's what my wives do when I get like this, and I have the scars to prove it. It makes the joining that much more intense. I forget that you are not Nietzschean and don't understand that drawing blood, both literally and figuratively, is as much foreplay as petting under the right circumstances. Humans have strange sensibilities when it comes to mating and procreating. I see that I must treat you as a virgin on their bonding night," Rhade explained with a smirk.

That drew a glare from the captain. "I don't think so. But I'd prefer not to shed blood either, if it's all the same to you." Dylan began to move back toward the bed.

Gaheris chuckled and quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying you're not suffering from virginal jitters?" he teased. "I've yet to see proof to the contrary."

Dylan growled and stalked back across the room until he was practically on top of the Nietzschean, where he grabbed Gaheris and kissed him.

Snorting his amusement, Rhade wrapped his arms around Dylan's waist, his bone blades brushing against the curve of the human's ass. Nipping on Dylan's lower lip, the Nietzschean pulled back and lifted up even as he rotated his torso.

A quick heave and Dylan was splay-legged on his back in the center of the bed. "You still have too many clothes if you want to fuck," Rhade politely pointed out with a quirk of a brow.

"So do something about it," Dylan challenged, putting his hands behind his head and smirking at Rhade. He was still shivering from the brush of blades over his ass, but he was damned if he was going to just follow orders... at least not yet.

Rhade's brows crept higher, and then a truly feral grin spread across his face. "As you wish, _Captain_," he replied blandly before reaching for one of his uniform boots. Moving aside one of the decorative buckles, he removed a thin but deadly shiv. "I hope you have more uniform pants in your closet."

Dylan's eyes widened as they focused on the razor-sharp blade, and he hardened even more. "Enough that I'm not going to worry about it," he said, his voice deepening and growing more hoarse.

"Tsk tsk, such wanton disregard for the uniform," Rhade murmured. "And here I thought you'd be the death before dishonoring of the uniform sort of person. I'm so disappointed in you, Captain."

Straddling Dylan's thighs, Rhade ran the flat of the blade lightly over Dylan's breastbone and worked his way down across hard nipples and a taut stomach until he encountered fabric. Positioning the blade so that the pommel rested against Dylan's flesh, Rhade began to slice carefully.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to the dishonor," Dylan rasped, his eyes fixed on the knife and every muscle in his body quivering with anticipation.

"And here I thought you were looking forward to the deflowering," Rhade replied with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"I'm afraid it's been a long time since that happened, but you're welcome to repeat the basics," Dylan retorted.

"My, feeling bold with a knife at your groin, I'm impressed, Captain," Gaheris replied, letting the blade dip to press lightly against Dylan's skin, leaving a faint welt but not drawing blood. "Not so much as a twitch of life," he continued blandly as he flipped the blade back up and sliced down the leg, freeing part of Hunt's body and then eyeing it appreciatively. "Not bad, not bad at all. Almost worth my effort," he purred.

"Don't do me any favors," Dylan growled, eyes narrowing at the 'almost'. He suddenly grabbed Rhade's head, trusting the Nietzschean's reflexes to keep the knife from his body, and pulled him into another kiss.

Gaheris allowed Dylan to control the kiss for a few brief moments and then bit down hard enough to make the human gasp and pull back. "I wasn't finished undressing you yet," he pointed out as he moved back down Hunt's body to finish slicing his way through the captain's uniform, tossing the knife so that it imbedded itself in one of Dylan's picture frames.

"I was fond of that frame," Dylan said, his mild tone belied by the heat in his eyes, his body tense and waiting for Rhade's touch.

"And now you'll look at it, see the scar in the wood, and remember the first time I took you for as long as you own that picture," Rhade answered, dark eyes raking over Dylan's now fully exposed body. "For a human you really are very pleasing to the eye. If I had a sister, I might be tempted to offer her to you. Your genes would only strengthen a Pride, even if they aren't Nietzschean."

"I'm really not interested in your sister, real or imaginary," Dylan pointed out, thrusting his hips upward to brush his cock against Rhade's belly.

"Ah, but if I had a sister and she took you as a husband, you'd be easily accessible any time I wanted you," Rhade pointed out even as he wrapped a fist around Dylan's erection and began to pump it lazily.

Dylan groaned, unable to respond as the pleasure spiked through him. His eyes fell half closed, his body arching under Rhade's knowing hands, and Dylan reached for the Nietzschean, his hands gripping Rhade's upper arms, needing the contact between them.

"So sensitive to the touch. One would think that you hadn't satisfied your urges in a very long time, Dylan. Don't tell me you believe in abstinence?" Gaheris teased as he squeezed down on the captain's cock ever so slightly, increasing both pressure and friction.

"I wonder how many times I can make you come before I feel the need for release," he mused aloud, a superior grin painting his face.

"Rhade," Dylan moaned, his arousal instantly surpassing the level he'd been at earlier, and he nearly shook with lust. He'd never thought about the possibilities inherent in Nietzschean genetics, but he had a feeling he was about to get a lot of hands on experience. He was so hard it hurt, but he never wanted it to end.

"Yes, Captain?" Rhade replied immediately as he grinned down at the writhing human. "Mmm, very attractive show. Most appealing. A reward is required, I think," the Nietzschean continued as if he hadn't asked Dylan to respond to him.

Sliding down Dylan's body, Gaheris was soon face to groin, and without so much as a deep breath, he was swallowing his captain down, working the hard shaft past his mouth and into his throat with casual ease.

Dylan's reply was lost in a gurgle of intense pleasure as Rhade took him into his mouth. His back arched off the bed as his hips rose convulsively, his fingers rising to grip the Nietzschean's hair. "Gaheris!" he groaned breathlessly.

Removing his mouth and the pleasure he was giving Dylan, Rhade grinned and licked his lips hungrily. "Yes, Captain, is there something I can do for you?"

"Suck me, damn you!"

Rhade quirked an eyebrow in amusement at the desperation he heard in Hunt's voice. "So much for your vaunted patience, Captain. This is not the man I remember from our Argosy days. You seem to be a little... tense," the Nietzschean smirked, blowing on Dylan's saliva-slicked cock.

"I didn't expect to be tortured in my own bedroom!" Dylan growled, trying to grab hold of Rhade's short, dark hair but unable to get a good grip.

"Ahh ahh," Rhade growled, quickly snagging Dylan's hands and pushing them to the bed. "Time for you to follow orders for a while. Hands don't leave the sheets, or you don't get fucked. Do you understand, Captain?"


"Bastard," Dylan rasped, fingers clenching in the bedding to keep himself from reaching for Rhade again. His whole body was throbbing with arousal, practically vibrating with tension, and he wanted release, wanted the pleasure desperately.

"Actually no I'm not. There are no bastard children among the Nietzscheans; we marry to ensure bloodlines, remember?" Gaheris smirked before extending his tongue to deliver a long lick up the underside of Dylan's shaft just to tease the human.

"Fine, you just have the personality of one. Damnit, stop teasing and suck me," Dylan groaned, the sheets almost tearing in his tightening grip.

Rhade bit back a rather un-Nietzschean chuckle and decided he'd tortured his new lover long enough for now. He would revisit this delightful pastime later after the edge had been taken off, so to speak. Taking firm hold of Dylan's hips and pressing them hard enough to bruise, the first officer of the _Andromeda_ pinned his captain to the bed and began to deep throat him with great skill.

Dylan yelled, trying to thrust but held motionless but Rhade's unbreakable grip, the flats of his boneblades resting against Dylan's skin and making the captain hyper aware of Rhade. It was rather like petting a tiger: exciting and pleasurable, but inherently dangerous. Dylan liked it.

Working Dylan's shaft as hard as he could, Rhade continued to suck and lick and nibble, working hard to make his lover come harder than he ever had before.

Thrashing where he was pinned, Dylan cried Rhade's name again, his entire body tensing as he came, spurting into Rhade's mouth.

Swallowing hard and fast, Rhade caught every last drop of Dylan's semen and continued to nurse on the human's cock until Dylan, too sensitive to take it anymore, pushed him away with a whimper. "Mmm, quite tasty. I'll have to do that again before the night is out," he purred as he knelt up and pushed Dylan's hips onto his shoulders as he did so. "I trust you have lubricant?"

Dylan nodded at the drawer next to the bed and watched as Rhade retrieved the lube. Completely relaxed in the aftermath of his climax, he still felt the fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he considered what was coming next.

"Ahh, what a proper High Guard officer you are, always well prepared," Rhade smirked as he opened the container and quickly lubricated his cock. "However, I'm not the same, I don't believe in preparation," he continued in a hot voice. "I believe in _slamming_ into action, or at least sliding into it."

Placing the head of his cock against Dylan's opening, the Nietzschean looked down at Dylan. "Are you ready for me, Captain Hunt?"

Instead of speaking, Dylan reached for him and pulled Rhade forward, hissing his discomfort as he stretched to accommodate the Nietzschean.

"You do tend to leap in where angels fear to tread, don't you?" Gaheris grinned as he continued to push into the tight and unstretched channel. "Ahh, almost virginal, it's delicious," he sighed when he was at last seated fully in Dylan's body.

"Less talk, more action," Dylan panted, gasping as his body slowly adapted to the welcome intrusion. His hands moved to clutch Rhade's shoulders, anchoring himself, and he slowly drew his knees up, letting Gaheris sink deeper into him.

"A risk taker _and_ pushy too," Rhade growled, fighting the urge to slam Dylan back down and claim him unequivocally. "Keep this up and I'll leave you so sore you'll be walking funny for your next duty shift," he continued menacingly, withdrawing slowly from Dylan and then slamming home once more.

"Try your worst," Dylan challenged with a smirk. He knew he was probably going to regret this when he really couldn't walk straight in the morning, but it was going to be worth it. He thanked his mother for the additional bone density and strength that let him take a Nietzschean on nearly equal terms--or at least without fear of unintentional damage.

"Brave but oh so foolish," Rhade replied with mocking disappointment. "At one point I had hoped to make you a proper Nietzschean; now I fear I will never be able to." Ensuring that Dylan couldn't come up with a smart comment, Gaheris sealed his mouth over his captain's once more and wrapped a hand around Dylan's cock to fist it in time with the more brutal staccato of thrusts he began to implement, wanting to see Dylan come apart underneath him.

Groaning into the kiss as the pleasure throbbed through him, Dylan drew his knees up higher, pressing them into Rhade's ribs as he rode and met the pounding, his hands gliding erratically up and down Gaheris' back until he was cupping the Nietzschean's ass, a finger pressing into the valley between.

Snarling almost sub-vocally, Rhade's pace picked up, pounding into Dylan harder and harder as his own pleasure spiked at his lover's bold move. "Mine, you're mine now, Hunt," he swore, moving his head to the side and biting down hard on Dylan's neck, sucking the blood to the surface, marking the captain well above where his uniform collar would rest so that all could see.

When he realized what Rhade was doing, Dylan pushed him away. While an atavistic part of him loved knowing that he'd driven Gaheris to mark him, the larger part of him, the one that was captain of the _Andromeda_ knew he couldn't allow it. "No," he said simply as their lower bodies continued to slam together. "Can't lose the respect of the crew," he tried to explain.

Growling, Rhade relented, although his eyes flashed dark with anger and the need to mark, to mate. "As you wish," he ground out, slamming his hips harder still, fighting to deny his nature in order to please his captain.

Dylan drew Rhade's head to him, directing him lower, to Dylan's chest. "Just not where the crew can see it," he whispered an instant before he cried out, his head tossing against the pillows as the pleasure continued to grow.

"Doesn't serve its purpose nearly as effectively there," Rhade grumbled but nonetheless was appeased enough to be guided downwards where he could mark this man to his leisure.

"Fine, you can mark me higher during our leave on Tarn Vedra." Dylan spared a thought for Sara, Admiral Stark's niece whom he'd been seeing on the rare occasions that they were both on the same planet, but they hadn't made each other any promises. And he'd wanted Rhade since that first mission together.

"Until you have a mate of your own," Rhade agreed. "Then we will be more circumspect. Human women don't understand like Nietzschean women do. So I will mark lower on ship, higher on leave and not at all when you have a mate," the Nietzschean mused. "And you may mark me anytime you wish. I enjoy it."

Dylan blinked. That was much too complex for him to deal with at the moment. "Shut up and just fuck me," he demanded, pushing a fingertip inside Rhade to encourage him to concentrate on the right thing.

"I thought I was?" Gaheris chuckled, squeezing his fist tighter and tilting his arm so that his bone blades ran over Dylan's stomach lightly. "Or have you forgotten my cock up your ass, Captain Hunt?"

"You talk too much," Dylan growled. He lunged upward to capture Rhade's mouth with his own, his tongue driving inside in the same rhythm as their lower bodies moved.

Rhade chuckled and allowed Dylan his way. His human could be quite amusing. Stroking Dylan's cock, Rhade began to rotate his fist, circling it around the turgid flesh, and added more pressure subtly. He was determined to make Dylan come again and soon. And then perhaps he would have Dylan go down on him until he found release.

Gasping, Dylan clutched hard at Rhade's shoulder, his other finger pressing deeper into the Nietzschean's ass as he rocked between the cock driving into him and the hand he was fucking.

"And just what do you hope to accomplish by doing that?" Rhade growled, impaling Dylan over and over even as he himself was impaled by the human's fingers. "I have plans for you, Captain Hunt, that don't include giving into your brand of persuasion just yet."

"Oh good," Dylan panted, perfectly willing to have the pleasure never end. It might kill him, but what a way to go! "God, so good."

"Of course it is," Gaheris replied smugly. "I am, after all, superior in everything."

Dylan rolled his eyes, but whatever he would have said was stopped by his near scream of pleasure as his climax suddenly overcame him. He shuddered, body stiffening and arching beneath Rhade, his come splattering over their bellies.

Smugly amused by being able to make Dylan come a second time in rapid succession, Gaheris trailed his fingers along Dylan's belly, gathering the cooling semen onto his fingers, and then brought them up to his lips to lick clean. "Delicious. How many more do you think I can get out of you before you pass out?"

Dylan whimpered.

"There are rules against killing your captain."

"Ah, but I don't want to kill you, Dylan Hunt, merely make you pass out from exhaustion, dehydration and extreme pleasure," Rhade smirked, circling his hips to make his cock dance within Dylan's no longer so tight ass, nudging the other man's prostate as he did so. "I do admit to being impressed though; most humans would be out cold by now, but your heavy-worlder genes are giving me a challenge. I _adore_ challenges," the Nietzschean purred menacingly.

Limp, sweaty, and wrung out, Dylan still mustered up the energy to smirk at Rhade and challenge, "Give it your best shot."

"But what if I'm not ready to give you my best 'shot'?" Rhade rejoined with a smirk of his own. "I could go another few rounds before that happens. There _is_ a reason why Nietzschean males usually have more than one wife; you do realize that, don't you?"

Pulling out of Dylan, Rhade laughed at the growl that emerged from his captain's throat. "I thought we'd try something new, just so I don't leave you raw and aching," he explained patiently, laughing out loud at the look of menace on Dylan's face.

***

Two hours later, it was Rhade's turn to smirk. He was once more buried deep in Dylan's ass, this time content to let things come to their natural conclusion, and his brave captain was nearly delusional with exhaustion. "Not nearly so cocky now, are we, Dylan?" Gaheris teased, stroking Dylan's now spent cock. "Are you sure I should continue? Perhaps you need to sleep some."

Dylan could only moan, no longer having the energy to speak. He was willing to admit that Rhade had bested him, but he'd loved every moment of it, even when the pleasure grew nearly indistinguishable from pain to his exhausted flesh.

Gaheris grinned and bent to capture Dylan's lips once more, gently forcing his tongue inside and sweeping it round the parched flesh hungrily. Dylan reeked of sweat and sex and Rhade himself. He was covered with love bites on his chest, buttocks, thighs, back, hips and anywhere else Rhade could mark without having broken his captain's request.

Pumping his hips slowly, almost delicately for a Nietzschean, Gaheris let himself go, let the pleasure build, and with a monumental bellow filled the human with his seed. Catching his weight on his arms so as not to crush Dylan beneath him, Rhade kissed him soundly. "Tomorrow you can take me if you like," he offered magnanimously.

A breathless laugh escaped Dylan. "Don't think I won't."

"If you are sufficiently recovered to be of any use to me, that is," Gaheris grinned down at the man, eyes dancing with amusement in an otherwise somber face.

"Insubordination!" Dylan snorted, still lying motionless beneath the other man.

"This from a man who can't even move a muscle because I wore him out. I think I can live with your pathetic attempt at a threat," Rhade replied, baring his teeth in a fierce grin. "Shall I take pity on you and carry you to the bathroom, _Captain_? After all, you rather stink."

"At the moment, I don't think I care," Dylan admitted as he slowly levered himself to a sitting position, Rhade backing off enough to let him up. "But I don't want to wake up stuck to the sheets or you, so yeah. A little help would be nice."

Chuckling softly, Rhade got out of bed, stretching his lean body to loosen the kinks. "Not bad, almost worthy of a sore muscle or two," he teased the limp-looking man still on the bed. "We'll have to improve your stamina though. I'll instruct the ship on a new protein diet for you; you'll need your strength," Rhade continued to taunt as he reached down and pulled Dylan up off the bed, wrapping an arm around his waist to help steady his feet.

"Smug bastard," Dylan said without heat. "Fortunately, I feel too good to care. I begin to see why Nietzscheans are so sought after. He leaned on Rhade's strength without embarrassment, and they slowly made their way toward the shower.

"Because we're so damn good," Rhade replied, leading them into the bathroom and then programming a rain shower and the heat of the water. Leading his partner under the spray, Gaheris set about showing Dylan yet another reason why Nietzscheans were so sought after and began to minister to his mate, cleansing him with gentle, calming strokes of his hands.

"Mmm." With a soft sound of contentment, Dylan leaned into Rhade, letting the hot water and Gaheris' hands sooth and relax him. "That feels good," he murmured, his head falling to Rhade's shoulder.

"Smart man, it should," Gaheris chuckled. "You may want to have one of the ship's robots take care of your bed while we're in here though; you probably don't want to crawl back into that mess after we've cleaned up."

Dylan made a face. "Rommie!" He waited for the ship to respond before asking her to clean up the other room, and he muttered to Rhade that he was glad she'd chosen not to have her hologram appear. Considering his current state, that would have been a bit more than he'd have been comfortable with.

Gaheris quirked an eyebrow at his captain when he commented on the fact he was glad Rommie hadn't appeared and shook his head in amusement. "You realize, don't you that the state of your bed sheets are even more telling than your current appearance. Besides, she's a machine; why should that embarrass you?"

"She's my friend. And this way I don't have to face her and see her knowing look. I _know_ she knows, but I don't need to see it."

"And she's not going to look at you like that the next time you have a meeting in your quarters?" Rhade asked with a quirk of a brow. Knowing the avatar as he did, Gaheris had no doubt that there would be something. Subtle, perhaps, but there was no way that Rommie would let it go without at least a smirk.

"Ah well, I will let you keep your delusions," he grinned at his captain. "And listen to you moan when they're shattered. Are you ready to sleep now, Dylan?"

"Definitely! Just point me toward the bed."

"Are you sure you can make it on your own?"

Dylan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you planning to stay in the shower all night?"

"No, I just didn't know if I had to carry you or not," Gaheris replied, turning off the water and turning on the sonics to dry them off quickly and efficiently.

Dylan was too tired to bother arguing. "I'm going to bed now," he announced, wobbling only slightly as he walked toward to the bed, eyes already half closed.

Rhade chuckled quietly and followed behind his captain, wrapping the human in his arms as soon as he lay down behind him. "Sleep well, Hunt; you've earned your rest tonight," he teased, brushing his lips over the nape of Dylan's neck.

Dylan only made a sleepy noise as he turned into Rhade's arms, relaxing into a deep sleep the moment he was settled.

"And tomorrow you can explain just what this holiday actually entails," Rhade murmured, following his captain into sleep.

END

FANTASY

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Giles/Xander

This Christmas by PhenDog
Due to length this story has been given its own page.

BOOKS

Lord of the Rings - Elrond/Legolas

Author: Starkindler
Title: Moving On
Date: December 21
Fandom: Lord of the Rings/Books
Pairing: Legolas/Elrond
Rating: PG
Summary: A morning interlude finds Elrond pondering the turn his life has taken.
Disclaimer: Alas, the characters and places in this story are not mine. They belong to the Tolkien Estate, and I’m only paying with them for fun.
Feedback address: nufaciel@yahoo.com  or starkindler76@yahoo.com 
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Beta: Drusilla and Eowyn

MOVING ON

Elrond peered down at the sleeping Elf next to him. He loved watching Legolas while he was at rest. He was so beautiful, and Elrond thanked the Valar every day that this Elf had come into his life.

When Celebrian had told him of her decision to travel to Valinor and seek the Halls of Mandos, he'd been devastated. Elrond had begged her to go, but refrain from seeking death, but she was determined. The torment that the Orcs had inflicted upon her was too great for her to bear, and she was weary of life.

In the end, he'd accepted her decision, and he had promised not to say anything to the children until she talked to them. Celebrian had lingered in Middle-Earth for a short time, and upon the eve of her departure, she had told Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen of her decision.

The boys had been stunned, even more so than Arwen. The twins dealt with their grief by taking it upon themselves to erase the existence of Orcs from Middle-Earth completely. Arwen spent more time with her grandparents. It was difficult for her to walk the halls of Imladris, knowing that her mother would never return.

Elrond had burrowed himself deep inside himself and dove head first into any kind of work that was available, from paperwork of transcribing in the library, to manual labor of any sort, whatever helped him forget that his marriage was over, that his wife wouldn't be there waiting for him when he finally made the voyage to Valinor.

The leaves had fallen from the trees of Rivendell four hundred times since the year that Celebrian had sailed West when Legolas came into Elrond's life. He had been on an Orc-hunting excursion that had led him and his entourage across the Misty Mountains when a sudden blizzard made the mountain impassable for the winter.

Elrohir and Elladan had been out on sentry duty when the Mirkwood Prince and his subjects came upon the borders of Imladris. They'd brought the youngest son of Thranduil to their father, who had immediately opened his home to the Elves for the winter.

The presence of Legolas brought life back into the Last Homely House and its people, particularly its Lord. Without knowing why he was doing it, Elrond began to spend more and more time with the Elf. The more time he spent with Legolas, the more he liked the prince. Then, during one of their conversations that lasted late into the night, Elrond had been unable to control himself, and he'd leant over and kissed Legolas.

Elrond had been mortified at his actions. Before Legolas could say a word, Elrond had apologized profusely and then fled the room. He'd locked himself inside his rooms for two days, not allowing anyone in to see him. It was childish behavior that was very much unlike him, but he couldn't face what he'd done. It was as if he'd betrayed Celebrian and all that she meant to him.

After two days, he finally let his sons in, if only because they had threatened to climb the house and enter his rooms through the window. Elrohir had managed to find out what had happened from a very confused Legolas on the first day of his seclusion, and they'd stayed up all night discussing it. While they weren't overly thrilled at the prospect of their father moving on, they knew that it was what their mother would have wanted, and if they were honest, they only wanted to see their father happy again.

Thus, they threatened to risk their necks to get into Elrond's room, and once inside, they'd finally got it through their father's thick head that what he had done was not the wrong thing to do, nor was it disrespectful to Celebrian's memory.

After another night of moping and feeling like a fool, Elrond sought out Legolas to apologize again, this time for his horrendous behavior. Legolas had accepted the apology, and then he'd asked Elrond if they could resume their talks.

That night, when the opportunity to kiss Legolas again presented itself, he did it. This time he didn't run away.

That had been the beginning of their relationship. Now it had been fifty years of Men that they had been together. They'd promised to spend their lives together after their first year of courtship (the year as counted by Men), and they never regretted it.

Legolas still spent much of his time in Mirkwood, as he should, since Thranduil needed his help running the kingdom. Elrond knew that he wasn't too ecstatic to have a Noldorin Elven-lord for son-in-law, but Thranduil had taken it rather well, much better than anyone thought he would.

Much of the spring and summer went to Thranduil, though Legolas visited often, but autumn and winter belonged to Elrond and Legolas alone.

'You think too much, my love. Why are you awake?' Legolas mumbled sleepily as he stretched. 'What time is it?'

'Much too early, Legolas. I simply could not resist the urge to watch you sleep,' Elrond told him, reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair. 'I was thinking about how much you mean to me, if you must know.'

Legolas smiled and pulled Elrond down. He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips and then laid his head on Elrond's chest. 'You are not allowed to leave this bed until I say so. I just arrived, and I do not plan on allowing you to leave this bed for at least three risings of the Sun.'

Elrond chuckled as he ran his fingers through Legolas' silky hair. 'What will our people think?'

'Whatever they want to think, and it will most likely be true by the time that I am through with you. Rest, my Lord, because I plan to exhaust you tomorrow.'

Elrond sighed happily as he kissed the top of his husband's head. 'You may do whatever you wish,' he said. Elrond allowed himself to drift off into slumber, fully intending to help Legolas keep his vow come the morning.

END

MOVIEVERSE

Van Helsing - Anna/The Brides

Author: autiotalo
Title: Silk
Date: 21st December
Fandom: Van Helsing/Movies
Pairing: Anna/The Brides
Rating: PG
Summary: Every Christmas since childhood, Anna has received a gift of silk.
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. No profit is being made. The characters of Van Helsing belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.
Feedback address: autiotalo at herzeleid.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Notes: For Farfalla.
Beta: Amy.

Silk

Anna could still remember the first time very clearly. It is often the way with first times: the memory can over-rule all subsequent events and leave them as bitter after-tastes, a shadow of what came before. But she had never yet been disappointed, and so each year she looked forwards to Christmas with a childish glee quite unbecoming for a princess.

She had been five years old, that first time. Anna remembered the dull pomp of the church as it moved into the season of Christ’s birth, the activity of the villagers as they strained to gather food enough for the celebrations. Giving gifts to mark the birth of Jesus is an almost alien thing for the Orthodox, but her father would often present her and Velkan with a trifle: a foreign coin, a toy horse whittled from wood, the coloured fletching from a broken arrow.

She supposed that, looking back on it, her father was trying to prepare her and her brother for their future life: one of hardship and struggle against Dracula. She was never raised to understand her own beauty, or even to regard her gender as being different to her brother’s. Without the influence of a mother, she looked instead to her father to provide her with all the guidance she needed in life.

So that first time lingered in the mind.

The snow had been falling steadily for the past two months, and although it was a sight she would never take for granted, the novelty of snow had worn off. She sat up in bed and watched the pattern of ice on the windows, the hard, fragile breath of frost curlicued across the glass. It filtered the light, made everything seem a touch unreal, a blue moment that reminded her more of evening than morning. And then she’d seen it, placed carefully on the foot of her bed amidst the rumpled blankets: a small parcel, wrapped in coloured paper and bound with ribbons.

Anna pounced on it eagerly, dragging the parcel up the bed so that she could study it. The paper was silver, as cold and brittle as the frost outside, and it crumpled and crackled in her hands. The ribbons were scarlet, wrapped three times around the parcel. She worried at the knot for a moment before biting through the ribbon, too impatient to wait for scissors or a knife to cut open the knot.

Inside lay a piece of cloth – fine, soft, slippery fabric, the like of which she had never seen before. It was as scarlet as the ribbons, flowing over her hands as she pulled it free of the paper. Anna knew only of warm fabrics, from the woollen and velvet gowns she wore for best to the linen and hide that she wore to run around the forest with Velkan. This was something new – a cold fabric, one that disdained rough handling. Already she had creased it, just from holding it so tightly.

Later, she would learn that this fabric was silk – a not unknown commodity, but rare enough in Transylvania. The nobles of Hungary and Romania wore it as if it were cotton - but then, they were wealthy beyond the dreams of the Valerius: for despite their titles and fine house, all the money the Valerius had ever accrued went into fighting the bane of the family’s existence: Dracula.

That first gift had just been a scrap of silk; enough for her to wrap around her wrist or to tie back her hair. She had it still, sewn into the pockets of one of her redingotes. For a while she carried the scrap with her everywhere, until her father noticed it and asked where she had chanced upon such a thing.

When Anna had told him of the parcel on her bed, he had frowned and sent her away. She thought no more of it until next Christmas, when another, identical, parcel appeared. This time it contained a square of pale blue silk. It did not suit her colouring, but it was so pretty that Anna wrapped it around her toy horse like a caparison.

The third Christmas, Anna was obliged to share her room with a nursemaid, who kept anxious watch over her charge. Lying in bed and feigning sleep, Anna watched the nurse linger beside the window, one hand to her throat where a crucifix was on prominent display. Despite the nurse’s presence, another parcel of silk was found at the foot of the bed.

Anna was ten years old when she first saw one of them. Her father had closed the external shutters to her bedroom windows. She had complained about it, saying that she wanted to look out and see the frost, but he had refused to bend – and so even in the early morning, the room was as gloomy as midnight, lit only by wavering candles that had all but burned down to puddles of wax overnight.

At the foot of her bed was the silver-wrapped parcel, but beside it was seated a woman so light and graceful that she scarcely made the bedcovers dip beneath her weight. The woman was so beautiful that Anna could not help but stare. Accustomed to the looks of the villagers around her, she had never before seen true voluptuousness. The woman’s dress was cut close to her body, revealing rather than concealing, and her skin glowed as pale and pink as the inside of a sea-shell. And her hair! A tumbling mass of red curls that, at first, Anna took to be as messy as her own, but which later she realised had been most artfully arranged.

The woman smiled at her, charming and gracious. “Hello, Anna.”

“Who are you?” Anna asked, curious but unafraid.

“My name is Ileera. My sisters and I have a gift for you. See?” She indicated the parcel beside her, but for the first time, Anna was uninterested. She was fascinated instead by the woman in front of her.

“Your sisters?”

Ileera’s smile deepened. “Of a sort. But come, open your gift! We spent a long time choosing the cloth, and hardly ever do we get the chance to see how you receive it. I hope you like it. This year, it was my choice.”

Anna took the parcel as it was nudged towards her, determined that she would like the silken gift even if it were ugly. Of course it was not ugly at all, but looked as if it had come from Ileera’s own costume: a long swathe of silk in delicate shades of mottled pink, trimmed with gold thread.

“It’s beautiful,” she said honestly. “Thank you.”

Ileera dipped her head in acknowledgment. “You are welcome. I shall pass on your thanks to my sisters.”

She rose to go, but Anna stopped her momentarily when she asked, “Why do you bring me gifts?”

Ileera gave her a slow smile. “Because one day, we hope that you will be our sister, too. We have waited a long time for you, Anna Valerius.”

And before Anna could ask anything more, the external shutters slammed open, and Ileera opened the window and jumped out of it as easily as if she were leaping into a pool. Anna knew that her room was three storeys above ground, and so she hurried to the open casement to peer out into the flurry of snow that whirled the air outside. If she had thought to see that beautiful body lying crumpled on the hard earth, then she was mistaken. Of Ileera there was no sign at all.

Over the next few years, Anna came to anticipate the visits from the three sisters. Ileera had been followed by the slim, elegant Verona – black-haired, cat-faced, refined beyond nobility. She would speak of her homeland, but without passion - just a recital of incidents and events, for she knew that she, and not Italy, was the object of Anna’s fascination. Verona gave her a silk blouse the colour of claret, with dozens of tiny, cloth-covered buttons.

After Verona there came Marishka, blonde and self-assured to the point of arrogance, and with a playful temperament that sometimes bordered on cruelty. She would stare at Anna’s body with a thoughtful, assessing look, and then would make some disparaging comment accompanied by a tinkling of laughter, so that Anna never knew whether Marishka meant her spiteful words or not.

And over time, Anna recognised a pattern to the silken gifts. Verona, closest of all the three sisters to her own colouring, gave silk in rich, striking colours that would perhaps be more suited to velvet – green, crimson, purple. Marishka would be alternately meagre and extravagant, giving one year a silk-edged handkerchief and another year sending an entire bale of raw silk. Ileera always favoured soft, warm hues such as pink and gold, and it was the Christmas of her sixteenth year when the parcel contained a silk chemise of palest rose.

Ileera had smiled encouragingly when Anna opened the parcel. “Try it on. I made it with my own hands.”

Anna looked closely at the fanciful confection. The stitching was so tiny and tight it was almost invisible. “You are a skilled seamstress, Ileera! I am sure there is nobody in the village who could match you.”

“Nobody in all of Romania, my dear,” Ileera said, rather smugly.

Anna fingered the underwear with reverence, for in all honesty she would rather look at it than wear it. The sisters’ gifts had begun to take on a meaning beyond their earthly worth, and so whenever she looked at or touched one of the pieces of silk, she automatically thought of the woman who had given it to her.

“Try it! I want to see if I judged well with the measurements,” Ileera insisted. She reclined upon the bed, her hair over her shoulders and her expression open and animated, just as if she were one of the young women of the village gossiping around the well with her friends. Indeed, she looked no older now than she had done when she had first appeared to Anna six years ago: still beautiful, her hair still glossy with vitality, her flesh still firm and ripe.

Anna made a helpless gesture. “I promise I shall try it on later.”

“No, do it now!” Ileera’s eyes flashed suddenly, almost changing colour, and her voice, usually so soft, became harsh for an instant. She recovered herself quickly, and smiled, saying: “Later, I may not be able to see you. How will I know if the gift has been a success unless I see you wearing it? You cannot be embarrassed, surely?”

“Of course not,” Anna said hurriedly. “But…”

Ileera pouted. “Very well. I shall close my eyes. But you need not be shy! One day we will be sisters, you and I – just as I became the sister of Verona and Marishka.”

“You never did tell me what you meant by that,” Anna said as raised her nightdress and began to wriggle out of it. “You are certainly not related by blood.”

For some reason this remark drew peals of laughter from Ileera. “Oh, my love, you are so amusing! By blood we are bound, yes, we are. But it is by marriage that we are related; for you see, we all love the same man.”

Anna paused in the act of slipping the chemise over her head. “How is that possible? It is against God’s law that a man should have three wives.”

Ileera opened her eyes. “Not every man follows such a law.”

“You said you would not look!” Anna tugged the garment over her head to cover herself, blushing furiously. “And anyway, do you not get jealous of the others? I know I would be. I can scarcely bring myself to share my brother, and he is only my brother. A husband I know I could not share.”

Ileera jumped up from the bed and clapped her hands; delighted by the way the silk chemise hugged Anna’s body. “I knew it would fit! I am so pleased. But here, the strap on your left does not lie quite as it should. Let me help you.”

Anna instinctively raised her hand to move the strap herself, but suddenly Ileera was beside her. She did not know how the other woman could have moved so quickly, but there she was, her nails very sharp and red against the thin delicate silk and her own pale skin.

Ileera fixed the strap and then fussed with the neckline, smoothing down the silk with gentle movements. Her fingertips brushed Anna’s skin, the swell of her breasts. Anna said nothing, but felt a flicker of heat run through her at the touch. To stave off the sensation, she said loudly, “You have not answered me. If you love your husband, how can you bear to share him?”

“Oh,” said Ileera carelessly, a small smile upon her lips, “we have our little ways of coping with jealousy.”

Anna was certain, suddenly, that she did not want to know what this entailed.

“Your husband must be a – a remarkable man,” she said, her voice tight as she held her breath as, with a languid caress, Ileera trailed her hand across Anna’s breasts.

“He is.” Ileera stepped back, withdrawing her hand, and surveyed Anna critically. “You look quite lovely, my dear. Soon you will be ready to meet him.”

“Him?” Anna echoed, confused.

Ileera smiled, and her strong white teeth glinted. “My husband, of course. Have you not been listening to us all this time? We want you to be our sister. The fourth Bride of Dracula.”

Even now, long years after the event that had brought the realisation that the women she thought of as her friends were actually her enemies, deadly killers in thrall to the creature that her family had sworn to destroy, Anna still looked forwards to Christmas. The gifts had not stopped. Each year brought a new parcel, a new piece of silk; and each year, one of the Brides would entreat her to join them.

It was not just the lure of the silk that made Anna fear that one day she would say yes.


end

REALISTIC   

Magnificent Seven - Vin/Chris

New Traditions by ZorroRojo
This story has been given its own page due to length

REALISTIC/COMICS

Straight Ahead

Straight Ahead comics by Neil Murphy
Due to sheer size, these comics have been given their own page

ANIME   

Sailor Moon - Serena/Raye

Author: Caliadragon
Title: Watching the Future Form
Date: December 21
Fandom: Sailor Moon/Animated
Pairing: Serena/Raye, mentions of future Serena/Raye/Darien
Rating: G
Summary: On Christmas Eve, a bonding takes place that cements the future.
Warnings: Pre-Slash
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback address: Caliadragon1@myself.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Very AU, I haven’t watched SM for a long time and this is my first time ever writing in the fandom.
Beta: Edi the Wonderful

WATCHING THE FUTURE FORM

Raye glowered as the meatball head finally showed up at the dojo. She was about to start screaming at the girl when she realized that Serena did not even notice that she and the others were there. The younger girls seemed to have something else on her mind. Probably Darien, Raye thought sourly. Raye knew that the pair were destined to be, but it was annoying watching them fawn over one another.

Not that Raye could see any attraction to the blond. Serena was vapid and whiny and was a horrible leader. Raye knew that she would be able to handle things much better than Serena would if only she were given the chance. Raye still couldn’t believe that Serena was the moon princess.

Sure Serena was a good fighter and she came through for them nine times out of ten, but that didn’t mean that she deserved her place as leader of the sailor scouts. Serena cared only for Rini and Darien, not for the scouts and certainly not for the people they were supposed to defend.

As Raye was about to shout at Serena to hurry up, she noticed that the girl had something in her hands and that she was not alone. The other scouts made their way to Raye’s side and watched as Serena handed something to a young girl, a soft smile on both their faces.

“I wonder what that’s about?” Amy asked as she watched her friend.

“Who cares, she should get over here! We have to train.” Raye said irritated.

Rini and Lita both rolled their eyes, “Don’t be mean Raye, its Christmas Eve, Serena said she had something to do before she came. She’ll be here in a second.” Lita told her gently. Raye merely glared. The rest of the sailor’s, both future and present just grinned.

Trista looked away to keep a smile off her face. She had already made Rini promise to keep the secret of the moon kingdom family, but she was unsure how much longer the child would be able to keep the promise. Not being able to call Raye and Serena mother was beginning to wear on the child. Yes, she could act like Serena’s child, but she wanted to act as Raye’s as well.

Trista knew the relationship between the two girls and Darien changed on this night. The night that her queen stopped playing the part of the lovable ditz and showed the world not only her power, but her love for mankind and those she claimed as family.

Tonight on Christmas Eve, a dark shadow would attack, it would come in the guise of dirty and hungry child. Serena would not turn her back on the enemy in this disguise, Trista knew this, but she also knew that she could not interfere. The Prince would arrive after the battle was to take place. The next day would find the ruling family together and trying to find out just where their lives were going.

By that time Serena and Raye would be permanently bonded to one another. Through love and pain, eventually Darien would accept this new bond, but until then it would be only Lady Raye and Quenn Serena forging a life through their bond.

Rini walked to her and leaned into her side. Together they watched as the battle took place and the other scouts went to help Serena. Neither female stepped forward to help. Tonight they were watching the beginnings of the most legendary love affair of their time coming into being.

END

ORIGINAL SLASH

Clive/Trenton

Merry Christmas, Precious by Scribe
This story has been given its own page due to length