ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 14

CLARK/LEX

Title: The telephone
Author: philtre
Disclaimer: I borrow, I write, ppl snicker, I return. See - no harm, no foul. I don't even make any money off this (though if any of you want to send money my way. Heyyyy. Who am I to stop you?).
Category: PWP, Futurefic, Established Relationship
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nah.
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Summary: The boys finally discover the lovely invention called 'the telephone'. *gasp*
Author's note: This fic is part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: I'd give you my number, but you're more likely to get me via email, twopphiltre@yahoo.ca
Thank you: my favourite nutcase, moss - how did I ever get stories finished before you? And MitchPell, for the insightful beta.

THE TELEPHONE

This sucked.

Author's Note: HYPERfocused is responsible for the first three lines of Clark/Lex's phone conversation, so I'll just go right ahead and blame her for the whole damn fic. *g*

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Waxing Moon
Author: Lyrastar
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters and all things Trek are property of Paramount/Viacom. Don't worry, they will be returned undamaged; the hair will all grow back.
Summary: The things we do for love.
Note: Part of the utterly awesome Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
Feedback: <Lyrastarwatcher@yahoo.com>

WAXING MOON

"Bones, got a minute?" Jim asked as he strolled into sickbay.

McCoy looked up from his desk. "If you haven't noticed, medical is pretty busy cleaning up from this damned plague. Is it important?" He sounded exhausted.

"I don't know. I seem to have developed a rash--"

McCoy went instantly to Red Alert. "Dammit, Jim! You know the anti-contagion procedures as well as I do!" Fatigue gone, he hustled the captain into quarantine.

"Bones," Kirk offered though the intercom, "I don't think it's that kind of a rash."

"Oh, well I'm glad to hear that, Captain," McCoy said sarcastically from outside the booth. He ran his fingers rapidly over the microbio controls. "But why come down and tie up my sickbay if you have it all figured out already?"


Reprimand noted, Kirk sat quietly for the remainder of the scan.

Despite his earlier tone, McCoy's relief was evident when he looked up a minute later. "All right Jim, you're clear." He triggered the door seal. "Now, where is that rash? Perioral?" he asked noting the reddened area around Jim's mouth.

"All over, but mostly...well...down there."

"Down where?" McCoy asked absently, holding Jim's chin up to the light.

"Down there." Jim stressed the second word tightly.

"Maybe you had better just show me," McCoy suggested with growing irritation.

Jim peeled off his shirt. "See, it's not too bad here. He gestured to the faint pink, rash barely noticeable on his chest, arms and back. With the sweeping gesture a red, blotchy patch came into view under his arm. McCoy glanced at it. Yes, there was one on the other side as well.

"But look down here." Jim dropped his trousers to reveal angry red welts covering the smooth skin at the base of his penis, his scrotum and disappearing into his crack.

"Now that is peculiar." McCoy left off looking at the underarms to study the genitals more closely.

"That wasn't the word I would have chosen," Jim said ruefully.

"No, really. It is unusual. Oro-genital, but sparing the penile shaft. Any new sexual contacts?" he asked, lost in thought.

"Not in over six months."

"Well," McCoy dryly. "It must really be the season for miracles. I sure never thought I would hear those words out of you."

Jim shot him a poisonous look, but had no ammunition with which to argue. So he kept quiet.

"How about your partner?" McCoy asked, bouncing on his toes. "Has he had any new contacts? Any reason to think you might have been exposed to something sexually transmitted."

"Bones--" Jim's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Ok, ok." McCoy threw up his hands in mock protest. "Just doing my job, Captain. But it is very unusual. He passed the medscanner over the most prominent areas. Mast cells, extravasation of fluid, IGE levels sky high...Jim, this looks like an allergic reaction!"

Jim studied the doctor's face wondering if this was one of his more sadistic ideas for a joke. But McCoy was ignoring him and intently studying his scanner rerun.

"Bone's you don't think--" He let the sentence drop.

"Huh?" Bones looked up puzzled. He saw the genuinely worried look on Jim's face. The light dawned. "No, with that kind of allergy the shaft would be badly affected. This seems to be centered around hair follicles. The areas with thinner, more sensitive skin are more inflamed than other hairy areas, but it is definitely related to hair. What are you using to control hair growth?"

"Starfleet issue repressor. Same as always."

McCoy got up and went to his terminal. Jim took this as his cue to dress.

"Guess what? They reformulated the blend three weeks ago. Added a retinasylate compound to keep skin softer and prevent wrinkles. Looks like you're allergic to it. It's just a nuisance now, but I hope you never get near-sighted. Retinasylate is closely related to Retinax V."

Apparently satisfied, McCoy made as if to leave.

"Hold on!" Jim bellowed, not to be ignored. "Now what?"

McCoy reached into the dispensary case and tossed a tube at him. "You can put a little neocortilyn on it. But mostly just stay away from the repressor. It should be all right on your chest and back, that skin is pretty thick, but don't put it on the sensitive areas. "


"Well, what am I supposed to do instead?" Jim asked querulously. "It will start to grow back in a day or two."

McCoy grinned. "Relax Jim, it's just a little hair. I am sure your well trained crew can cope with seeing a bearded captain until we can reformulate a supply of repressor for you."

"That is not the 'sensitive area' I was thinking of. When can you have it ready?"

McCoy gave him a strange look. "What is it with you and your insistence on remaining hairless? You are a top notch starship commander, but you do have your quirks, don't you?"

"This week at least, Bones?" Jim pressed.

McCoy shook his head tiredly. "Jim, we have 1.2 billion plague victims down on the planet's surface. I have more important things to worry about than the captain's pubic hair. You could have one of the science labs do it for you if you are in a hurry."

"I would prefer to keep issues involving my privates...private, thank you."

McCoy bounced gleefully on his toes. "Well then," he said with a huge grin, "why don't you get Spock to do it for you? After all, the Captain's pubic hair is right up his alley."

Then he passed through the door and was gone.

*****

Ten days later Kirk again came into sickbay, this time with an Alumiguard box under his arm.

"Oh, Captain," Chris Chapel greeted him with a smile. "Merry Christmas. Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, thank you nurse. I need some assistance with a medical procedure."

"Dr. McCoy is down on Yersinarus. Shall I call him back?"

"No, nurse, it was you I was looking for. I think you and I can handle this."

"Well, sir, I am not really qualified--"

"It's actually more of a...hygiene matter."

"Hygiene?" she repeated.

"Yes. I don't think there is any reason to bather the doctor, but I would appreciate your...discretion."


"Naturally, captain," she said coolly. "What is the nature of the situation?

"I need some help with a...personal...waxing."

"Waxing?"

"Waxing."

"Waxing--where?"

"Waxing there." Kirk nodded emphatically downward.

"There?!"

"Nurse, are you going to help me or not?" he said with some exasperation.


"Of course, captain," she replied, gathering herself. "Perhaps if I could see--" He moved to undo his trousers.

"No!" she exclaimed, "I meant the wax!"

He set down the box. She reached in and picked up the contents curiously. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"Risa on our last pass by. It says 'body wax'. Will it work as a depilatory?"

"Oh," she said, ignoring the question. "That explains it." She looked up. "It's not really that kind of wax. If you know what I mean, sir," she added uncomfortably.


Kirk sighed. "Well, this wasn't exactly the scenario that I had in mind when I bought it."

She flipped over the package to the picture of the happy couple frolicking in bed. "Have you tried it yet?" He looked at her aghast.

"I mean," she stammered, "do you...would you...know if it sticks to hair." She had turned a most stunning shade of scarlet.

"I assure you, I have no idea," he mouthed through tightly pressed lips.

"Well, this is more made for...fun," she offered by way of explanation. The captain's gaze was fixed firmly on one corner of the ceiling. "I think it's supposed not to stick. I doubt it will work for, uh, hygiene. But I do think I have an idea."

He looked back at her warily.

"One of the botanists keeps a supply of depilatory wax. He says it's because he is allergic to the standard repressor, but I wonder if he doesn't just like the way it feels when--"

The captain was once again deeply intrigued by the corner of the sickbay ceiling.

Christine stopped herself. "I just mean, sir, we that could probably borrow some from him."

Kirk gave her a wan smile. "Nurse Chapel, is there any chance that we could keep my name out of this request."

She giggled. "Certainly, Captain. Consider it my Christmas present to you."

In less than 10 minutes Christine was back breaking open the chemical warmer from the Risan kit. She set the wax pot on top and stirred. "Almost ready, Captain. If you would bend over and uh...expose...the uh, pertinent area."

Gritting his teeth, Jim assumed the position. Christine coated the spatula and made ready for the first pass.

"Is the door locked?" Jim asked nervously. She paused, spatula in hand. "Really Captain, I am a nurse. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"OUCH!"

"Hold still. It will all be over in a minute."

"Nurse, are you sure...OW!"

"There you go. Smooth as a baby's bottom, if I must say so myself. Now, flip over."

"Nurse--"

"NOW!"

He sighed. The things we do for love.

*****
His entire groin burned as he walked back to his cabin amid the chorus of 'goodnight, sir' and 'merry Christmas' greetings. Spock was already seated at the computer when he came in.

"Spock," he grinned broadly. "I was hoping you would make it up sometime tonight. How goes the operation?" Gratefully he slipped out of his pants, put a hand down his shorts to scratch his burning, hairless nuts.


"Is that a request for a briefing, Captain?"

"No," Jim bent over his chair to kiss him on the forehead. "Just making conversation."

"In that event, suffice it to say that we are significantly ahead of schedule. That may be attributed, at least in part, to the efforts of 67 crewmen who had previously requested off time for Christmas observances. Each one voluntarily surrendered his leave to stay and expedite relief measures."

"I would expect no less from my people," said Kirk quietly. "What about you?" he added. "Done for the night?"

"Planetside operations will not require my involvement for approximately 10.4 hours. I was under the impression you would enjoy my company tonight. "

"So," so Jim said, teasing. "You came back, not for yourself, but just for me? A Christmas present maybe?"

"I do not understand the reference," Spock lied, continuing the game. "But I offer myself to you in whatever manner you deem appropriate for the occassion."

"Mmm." Kirk kissed him slowly, thoroughly. "In that case, mister, get into bed and turn out the lights. I have a present for you too."

Raising an eyebrow, Spock complied.

Naked, Jim slipped in between the sheets. "Mmm." Jim stretched luxuriantly along the length of his lover. A warm hand reached between his legs, caressed him lovingly.

"Jim," Spock started with subtle appreciation, "you seem to have developed an interim plan."

"Mmhmm," Jim murmured into his neck. "Do you like it?"

Spock's hands increased the speed of their worship over Jim's silky, warm skin. "Jim," he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice, "do you not see the illogic of continually asking questions to which you already know the answers?" Spock's hands massaged the smooth pecs with rapidly mounting desperation. His mouth moved inexorably down the silky rippled abdomen, licking and kissing each step of the way.

"I don't see anything illogical in this at all," Jim smiled lost in the bliss of his lover's rough caresses. "You're the one who is kinky, Spock. Who would have ever guessed that my logical Vulcan has a fetish."

Lost beyond words Spock merely grunted, frantic to cover every inch of Jim's creamy skin with his own.

"Merry Christmas, Spock," Jim breathed quietly into his neck as they wrapped themselves tightly together into the night.

~fin

HARRY/SNAPE

Title: Secret Sev Santa
Author: Panko Piskun
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I'm making not a cent off it!
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Address: pankopiskun@hotmail.com
Beta: Thank you jl_foxy

SECRET SEV SANTA

It was a week before Christmas and all Hogwarts students left were asleep in their beds. Most students had left for the holidays and yet the teachers still held a feeling of dread. For tomorrow, you see, the rules became lax, since the Headmaster found holiday house points too big of a tax. So let us now peek in on our favourite Boy-Who-Lived. And the day a week before Christmas that he opened his first gift.

***

Harry Potter, Dark Arts Professor for three years running, stacked the last of his marked essays in a drawer for the holidays. He'd always hated work right before the break, but he hated doing it during the holidays even more.

Harry looked around his chambers, not quite sure what he should do now. Severus wouldn't be home for weeks and would miss the holidays entirely. He'd probably make it back just in time to show up at dinner on the first day back to properly glare at the returning students. Harry sighed. And all for his job as an Order spy.

Pouring himself a drink, Harry sat down in his favourite leather chair and once again questioned his decision to decline the Order's offer of membership. He'd be just as overtired as Severus and probably be delegated jobs far out of his league, as his namesake often mandated. But he'd have been able to schedule more time with his boyfriend and that would've outweighed any negatives the job could carry.


Or maybe not. Probably. Harry sighed. Definitely not. The war was still not one and no one outside of Hogwarts knew of Harry's relationship with the school's Potions Professor.

Harry settled himself in his chair and set the fire ablaze with a quick motion of his hand. A strong "Accio!" later and a blanket was draped lightly over his shoulders. All settled in comfortably, Harry indulged himself in his second all-time favourite pastime; secret Sev-flashbacks. His most favourite, of course, being secret Sev-watching in person.

The last time Harry had seen his lover had been Thursday night, two days ago. Merlin, though, what a night that had been…

***

Severus' kisses were almost bruising but Harry loved them anyway. The harsh feel of wet lips against his skin added just one more sensation to their lovemaking sessions. His hands were never hard enough, though, and it drove Harry crazy. He wanted to feel Severus in the most intimate way, more than just sex. He needed the feel of skin and body and soul rubbing against each other. Sex was more than stick Appendage A into Orifice B to them. It was passionate and sour and explosive all at the same time. They could express so much more with their bodies than language could ever hope to express.

Tonight was especially devastatingly wonderful. Severus seemed more desperate and almost angry. Normally Harry would have pried what was bothering his lover out of him, but tonight seemed to be more about a creature comfort. Harry knew this type of sex. Out of all the types he and Severus had tried through their months together, this was his least favourite. It meant Severus was leaving for some mission or another. He wouldn't know the details until tomorrow morning when Severus would tell him, but for now it didn't matter.

All that mattered were his lips on his skin. Harry writhed under his lover's ministrations. Sweet merciful! Oh- Oh! How many mouths can one man have? Several at least, to be kissing him and preparing him for a good fuck session with his mouth at the same time.

Suddenly it didn't matter at all, because Severus was in him and oh, didn't that feel like Heaven wrapped in some sugary goodness! They always paused here, with the pressure between his eyes building and the blood filling their already painful cocks. And then it started again. The mounting pleasure and slamming of skin against skin and oh god, god, god. In and out, in and out. Breathe…

***

Harry gulped and breathed out shakily. No need to get himself all hot and bothered when he had no warm body to curl up to afterwards.

Resigning himself to a lonely night spent in bed, Harry was about to get up when he heard a tapping at the window. Walking to small circular window to the right of his chair, Harry spotted a plain brown owl with a small note tied to his leg. Harry blinked for a moment and turned to where Hedwig usually rested. There she was, just as normal. So the letter couldn't be from anyone in Hogwarts or else she would have gone to pick the note up.

Harry let in the owl and gave her a small Owl Treat. Just before the bird took flight, Hedwig flew over and began nipping at the snow covering the other owl. The two seemed content to occupy themselves, so Harry left them to their own devices. He took the note over to the fire and sat down so he could read it.

The parchment was stone-dry despite the quite obvious snow falling outside. It was tied closed with a little piece of silver fabric and Harry instantly knew who it was from. Smiling brightly, he carefully pulled off the wrapping and placed it to one side, insight telling him he'd want to keep that. The note was simply and quite to the point, exactly what he'd expect from correspondence with his only long-term lover.

H,

I left your gift under that hideous thing you call a Christmas tree. I trust it will be well-received.

Yours (soon),
S.

Harry laughed at the very Severus-sounding note. Although he certainly was curious as to what 'soon' meant. Putting everything aside, Harry scooted closer to the tree and looked for the present that was sure to stick out in some way. Ah! There it is!

It was a square present that he hadn't really noticed before. It was covered in silver and green wrapping and had a tiny silver snake on the top that hissed quietly when Harry made to pick up the present. The only indication that it was for him was tiny piece of golden ribbon attaching a piece of card to the side of the box. The card simply read "H" in a beautifully elegant script and had a wizard's photo of falling snow in the background.

Opening it up, Harry found many layers of cloth wrapped around another present wrapped in exactly the same manner as the larger one, card and all. Harry snorted to himself. Trust Severus to give him a gift within a gift.

Harry couldn't wait any longer and tore open the little box. It really was amazing, how much the box resembled a-

Harry was speechless. He couldn't in the slightest think of what to do. How to react. In the end, he settled for whooping loudly and jumping up from the floor. And that's how Ron and Hermione Weasley-Granger found him a half-hour later.

Engagement ring on finger and tears running down his face.

END

JIM/BLAIR

Title: Christmas Presence
Authur: Charon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Show: The Sentinel
Disclaimer: As you know, I have nothing to do with Pet Fly (more's the pity), so these guys aren't mine, and I know it (Sniff), nor am I making any money off this either.
Feedback: Send all comments witticisms, etc. to kwaigoncainejinn@yahoo.com
Complete And Total Fantasy, The Sentinel

Christmas Presence
By Charon

Started: 12-04-02
Completed: 12-05-02

Detective Jim Ellison, a tall, muscular, handsome man with a militaristic brushcut, and who just happened to have hyperactive senses and be called a Sentinel, grinned at the boneless bundle he held somewhat steady in one arm. He then frowned at the key that he struggled to put in the lock, and, finally after what seemed hours, he managed to get the door open and the bundle inside.

"If I'd known what party animals cops were, Jim, I'd've joined the force years ago." The boneless bundle, otherwise known as Jim's best friend, a grad student - turned - cop, Guide to Sentinel, and who went by the name of Blair Sandburg, actually giggled. Jim rolled his eyes and literally pulled the smaller, wiry, long-haired man through the livingroom, then let him fall to the futon in his bedroom.

"Yeah, Chief." He agreed affably as he pulled Blair's boots off, and sighed as the water ran from them onto the wood flooring. "Let the cops out of their natural habitat, and you can't tell them from the rest of the beasts in the jungle."

"Oh, Jiiiim.” Blair sighed. “That's so . . . so . . . poetic." He grinned again, and Jim was forced to swallow as he gazed at the wide eyes and handsome face that had, somehow, through everything they’d been through, remained innocent, if no longer naive.

Jim closed his eyes briefly as he thought over the last year, and how Blair had lost everything he'd wanted because of Jim and his senses, and how the younger man had fought to get used to his new life as a cop. It was at moments like the one he faced, that Jim realized how much he actually owed his friend and Guide, and knew that nothing could ever make up for the debt.

"Yo! Jimbo!" Blair called, and grinned at Jim's automatic look of distaste at the hated nickname. "You went away on me, buddy. You okay?"

The older man forced a smile and thoughtlessly ran a hand through the long tousled curls, and nodded. "I'm fine, Chief." He said. "I was just thinking . . ."

"Jim. Jim. Jim.” Blair shook his head in mock disappointment. “You do brooding . . .” He hiccuped, then giggled. “Excuse me. Thinking seven days a week at the cop shop, man. We managed to nab three whole days off for Christmas, and it started with a hell of a party that should have been declared a Major Crime by the time it was finished. So, don't bug out on me now, man, okay? Your dour mood will spoil a perfectly good egg nog buzz." He blearily waved his hand in front of Jim’s nose, and the older man grabbed the hand, then pushed it down to the bedcovers.

"Is that what they called that concoction you drank, Chief?" The older man actually grinned, then sat on the edge of the futon. "I smelled the stuff, and if I didn't know any better, between Simon and Henri, it was more egg nog flavored rum, than rum flavored egg nog. I almost got drunk just off the fumes, and I'm very glad I didn't have any to drink, because I would never have been able to drive."

Blair giggled, and his head flopped back to the pillow. "The way you drive, Jim, no one could have told the difference anyway, so you’d be perfectly safe."

"Ha-Ha. Funny man, Chief." Jim snorted, but there was no anger in his voice, and he patted Blair's shoulder. "But you better get out of those clothes, and into bed before you pass out."

"Can't I just sleep in them?" Blair sighed. "I'm totally wiped, man."

"No." Jim frowned. "You cannot asleep in your clothes. House rule number 426, remember?" Jim asked, and Blair sagely nodded his head.

“‘S right. Thou shalt not sleep in thy clothes. Got ‘cha’.” He giggled, and tried to get his hands to work on the buttons of his flannel shirt, but his hand to eye coordination was severely off, and Jim shook his head, mildly exasperated.

He stood, sat Blair up, unbuttoned the shirt, then slipped it from Blair's shoulders. Without looking behind him, he dropped it in the clothes hamper. Blair fell against Jim’s chest, and held himself more-or-less upright, as the older man lifted the Henley top over his friend's curly head, and it quickly followed the flannel into the basket.

Jim inhaled deeply and tried not to look at the chest of his friend as more than another man's chest. But, as it had over the last year, it was harder and harder not to notice Blair as more than just a piece of the furniture. The younger man was good looking . . . he'd had enough women tell him that, as well as several men, and Jim had never heard Blair do anything other than politely refuse the men's advances, while he accepted every woman who threw herself at him.

As for Jim, there was nothing in his outward appearance or demeanor that would suggest he was anything other than a stereotypical cop who had been in the Rangers and done several undercover jobs for the army. However, only he knew what some of those undercover jobs were, and what he'd had to do to complete some of his missions, and had found a good portion of it, if not particularly pleasant, not enormously unpleasant either . . . and that was the problem.

He knew what he liked, but his curiosity about what Blair enjoyed, and what he was like in bed had driven him almost to the point of insanity. And, there Blair was, half-naked, compliant, and completely trusting of Jim's motives and his motivation, as well as of Jim. Blair was perfectly safe and content in his ignorance of Jim's deeper fantasies.

The older man inhaled deeply, took a vicious mental hold on his imagination, and placed his friend flat on the bed. He crouched over Blair's legs, gritted his teeth, and opened the button of Blair's dark jeans. He kept his eyes firmly on Blair's face, and watched as his eyes closed. Jim fought for an air of nonchalance, drew the zipper down, then gripped the material at Blair's hips, and tugged them off. To his immense surprise, he saw that Blair, whom he'd never seen in anything other than boxers when he appeared in the mornings for breakfast, wore only a strip of red satin that barely contained him, and two pieces of elastic that ran around his hips and joined a third string at his back.

"Uh . . . Chief . . ." Jim’s voice was oddly strangled in his throat, and Blair blushed right to the roots of his hair.

"They were a gag gift from Megan. She bet me ten bucks I’d never wear them." Blair giggled. "Showed her." Jim almost choked at the image that filled his head as Blair showed Megan the thongs, and his mouth literally watered. He swallowed, hard, and pulled the tight jeans further down Blair's legs, and couldn’t resist one more look. He licked his lips as he saw the thongs had gotten decidedly smaller . . . and Blair decidedly bigger.

"Blair?" Jim asked and backed away, and Blair sighed, then blushed again and held his hands over his face.

"Sorry, Jim. It’s not you. Really. Whenever I get drunk, it kind of . . . happens. I'm sorry, man. You can just go and I'll just sleep this way . . ."

"Yeah." Jim snorted. "I can just see it now. You have to get up and go to the bathroom, you forget your pants are around your thighs, then wham! You fall on your ass, and I’m the one who has to explain to the emergency room how you got a concussion . . . again. No, thank you. I'll just finish this, and you can get some sleep. It’s not like I’ve never seen anyone with a hard-on before."

"Thank you, Shakespeare." Blair laughed, and Jim tugged the pants further down Blair’s legs, pulled them off, and did away with his socks as well. Blair lay all but naked on the bed, and Jim almost groaned as his own shaft jumped to attention. He couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present, or one more desirable, and he panted breaths from gritted teeth as he reached under Blair and pulled the comforter out from under him. Blair rolled partially on his side and Jim was given a look at a well-rounded posterior, its center line covered only by a thin line of red elastic, and he pulled Blair back onto his back.

There was no way he could resist any longer. He had to touch Blair at least once. He lifted the comforter over Blair, then pulled it across him, and the back of his hand brushed over Blair's semi-hard shaft. Blair gasped, and Jim watched as the thongs were suddenly stretched to their limit as Blair went completely hard.

"Oh gods, Jim." He moaned, completely humiliated. "I’m sorry, man. I just don’t have any control tonight. I drank way more egg nog than I should have. I’m really really sorry, Jim. Please don't kill me, okay? I really couldn't help it. It was just a biological reaction to a stimulus." He put his hands over his face. "Oh gods. That didn't come out right. I mean . . ."

"You mean that felt good." Jim said as an amused smiled tugged at his lips, and he ran his fingers over the soft material of the thongs. Blair’s hips all but jerked upwards, but as he realized what had happened, he froze.

"Oh man, Jim, what are you doing? I can't help the way it feels . . ." His breath left him in a sudden rush, and his body trembled as Jim, emboldened as the scent of Blair's arousal filled his nose, once more stroked his hand over Blair’s erect shaft. He watched, with some satisfaction, as Blair's pupils dilated until his blue eyes were almost black. "Please, Jim." Blair's voice was a hoarse whisper, and his breaths were quick pants as they left his parted lips. "Please, Jim . . ." He all but whimpered, and Jim traced a lone finger down the center of Blair’s erection to the juncture between his legs. Blair cried out, clenched his hands in the sheets, as Jim laid his entire hand over Blair's still mostly covered shaft and stroked his fingers upward, though he never removed his hand.

"Were you going to ask me to stop?" He questioned, his voice low, while his tongue seemed cleaved to the roof of his suddenly desert-dry mouth. "Do you want me to stop?"

"What . . . what would you do to me if I said no?" Blair whispered, and Jim grinned as he reached into the pocket of Blair's jeans and pulled out Blair's Swiss Army knife.

"Jim?" Blair's voice trembled, and Jim removed his hand form Blair’s erection, then stroked the hair on Blair's chest.

"Do you trust me, Blair?" He asked, and without hesitation, Blair nodded.

"Good." He smiled, opened a blade on the knife, and ran his fingers once more over the hard shaft. "I've wanted to touch you for so long, Blair." He finally said. "And right now, you’re giving me one of the best presents I could ever get.” He smiled. “And I can’t wait to open it." He placed the knife blade under the elastic that held the thong together, and with a quick upward stroke, the material parted. He repeated the action with the other side, then dropped the knife to the floor. Slowly, as if he handled a particularly delicate piece of glass, maddeningly slowly, he pulled the material away, and revealed Blair's ful length and diameter. He gazed rapturously at the treasure he’d uncovered, then slowly ran his palm over the velvety skin.

Blair cried out as his hips jerked up once more, and Jim closed his hand around the hard shaft. He traced his thumb over the sensitive head, and Blair shivered. Still slowly, Jim’s hand slid to the base of Blair’s shaft, then up again, and he rose over Blair. Jim opened Blair’s legs, lay on his stomach on the bed, held Blair’s thighs open with his shoulders, then darted his tongue over the edge of the head.

Blair’s hands bunched the sheet up at his sides, and his mouth opened wider as his pants turned to small cries with each touch of the tip of Jim’s tongue. Completely of their own accord, his hips rose off the bed, and Jim slipped one hand under his bottom, then squeezed gently. Blair thrust upward, and he entered the hot cavern that was Jim’s mouth.

At the wet heat that surrounded him, Blair couldn’t contain the cry that burst from his throat, and his toes dug into the mattress beneath him, as his head ground into the pillow. Blair shuddered and clamped his hands over his mouth, but Jim broke away from him, and stroked downward from his stomach to the base of his shaft.

“Don’t hold back, Blair.” Jim’s voice was steady, even if his knees weren’t. “I want to hear you. I want to see you. To taste you. To touch you. And yes, even to smell you. I want you . . . all of you. Don’t deprive me of any of that, please.” His voice cracked on his last word, and Blair, not capable of any speech, dropped his hands to the sides of his head and gripped the pillow convulsively, as Jim once more took him into his mouth.

Jim slowly slid his mouth over the head, down the shaft, then pulled up again, only to plunge downward once more. Blair did as Jim had asked, and held back nothing.

When Jim’s tongue found the slit and gently played over it, he cried out. When Jim’s teeth gingerly scraped along the sides of his shaft, he moaned and shuddered. When Jim swirled his tongue just under the head, and squeezed the cheek of the bottom he hadn’t released, he thrust upward. When Jim increased the speed of his motion, Blair let out huge, noisy gasps of breath as ecstacy neared.

It was in those moments that Jim must have smelled his impending orgasm, because it was then that he slowed down and calmed the heated intensity of his ministrations. It was also at those moments that Blair moaned in protest. However, Jim would once more build his momentum, and with each cool down and build up, Blair’s anticipation heightened . . . and so did his sensitivity to Jim’s mouth.

Blair’s entire body shuddered in Jim’s hands, and his muscles tightened, almost as if he were having a seizure as Jim’s mouth once more brought him close to the brink of release. The upward wrench of his hips thrust himself deeper into Jim’s mouth, and he shuddered as his entire lower body left the bed. One hand clenched the sheets while the other was firmly wound into the sweat-soaked pillow, and his hair clung to his face as he gave over to Jim whatever self control or shame he had left.

“Jim.” He literally sobbed as he ground his head into the pillow and pushed into Jim’s mouth. “Please.” He begged. “Oh gods, Jim. Please let me come. Please.”

Jim would have grinned, were his mouth not busy, and Blair’s body writhed as the older detective complied with his friend’s desperate appeal. He felt the blood as it pulsed through Blair’s shaft and his veins. He heard Blair’s breath as it heaved through his lungs. He watched as Blair’s eyes closed and his mouth opened. He smelled Blair’s musky, earthy scent as his climax neared.

And suddenly, he tasted Blair.

In a white-hot flash, Blair’s scream all but deafened him, and the man’s body jerked spastically in his hands, even as the younger man’s essence released almost violently into Jim’s waiting mouth. He took all that Blair gave, then slowly rose up the shaft, gently squeezed out what remained, and licked the thick, salty liquid from the head.

“Oh gods, Jim.” Blair whispered hoarsely as soon as he could speak, even as his breath heaved in his chest. “Oh my gods. At . . . at the risk of sounding like a cliche, that was incredible. No, that was beyond incredible. There’s no word for what that was. Gods, it seemed to go on forever. If I was your Christmas present, Jim, then I’ve got to know your return policy, because if that was a one time thing, I . . .” He swallowed. “I don’t think I could stand it.” He looked at the older, smug man through slitted eyelids as exhaustion suddenly grabbed hold of him, and he licked his lips. “You *do* want me to be return your gift, don’t you, Jim?”

“Blair.” Jim smiled as he used the soft satin of the thongs to dry Blair’s shrinking shaft, crawled off his friend’s body, and pulled the comforter completely over the sated man. “You can return that kind of gift any time you want. But now, I think you need to get some sleep.” He grinned, stood, and walked to the door.

“Jim.” Blair’s voice stopped him, and he looked down at the younger man, as he turned onto his side, and his eyes closed. “What would you have done if I had said no? Or if I’d rejected you?”

“I would have done what I’ve done every night for a little under a year.” The bigger man smiled, almost sadly. “I would have gone upstairs, listened to you breathe, gotten myself off, then gone to sleep . . . alone.” He inhaled, then swallowed, and looked into the face of the man who had given up so much for him. “You mean a lot to me, Blair. I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I really do care about you.”

“I care about you too.” Blair yawned widely, and Jim nodded.

“I know, Chief. And I really don’t know what I did to deserve that. Especially from you.”

“You’re . . . just . . . you.” Blair’s breathing evened out, and Jim closed the door, then went upstairs, where he stripped himself of his own clothing, and fell into his own bed, no less exhausted than Blair.

“And Jim.” Blair’s soft voice drifted up to him through the floorboards. “By New Year’s, don’t expect to be sleeping alone.”

“I’ll count on that, buddy.” He grinned, and with Blair still fresh in his sensory memories, he closed his eyes.

A moment later, both occupants of 852 Prospect, Cascade, Washington, slept, and both were secure in the knowledge that neither of them would sleep, nor be alone, for many, many Christmas’ to come.

Finis!

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: Cost/Benefit Analysis
Author: Minim Calibre
RATING: R
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer. BtVS and all the characters are not mine. They belong to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, et al. Just playing in their sandbox.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent , Coda to Fringe Benefits and Mutually Beneficial.
Feedback Email address: cicada@cablespeed.com

COST/BENEFIT ANALYSIS

END

MISCELLANEOUS (TOM/ED - PREY)

Title: The Lucky Ones
Author: Mereridkat (Margaret Newman)
RATING: NC17
Pairing: Tom/Ed (Tom/Sloan implied)
Fandom: Prey
Disclaimer: I don't own them, not making any money, and I always put them back clean.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Author's note: Thanks to CJ -as always- for the beta!
Feedback Email address: mereridkat@aol.com

THE LUCKY ONES

Sloan shook her head. "Tom, I'll be fine. I need to work on the test results. Ray is here. He'll escort me home when I'm done. I already asked him."

"You're sure?" Tom frowned, staring at her. She was very calm.

"Very." She stood, grabbing a file folder and waved it at him. "Shooo! Go home to Ed. You two haven't had any private time together in weeks. I'll be home later, I promise."

"Alright." Tom cocked his head, giving a nod. "I expect you home by midnight or Ed and I will come get you."

"Now that's a threat!" Sloan laughed, and she didn't look the least bit scared. "Go."

"Okay." Tom turned and left, picking up his jacket from a chair in the break-room.

Sloan waited a good fifteen minutes before she set the one set of folders aside, and opened one that she had hidden. The name on the tab was, "Parker, Sloan".

---

"Where's Sloan?" Ed asked when Tom walked into the kitchen alone. He had heard the alarm system beep at Tom's entrance and the following beep when it was reset.

"She stayed at the lab. She wanted to work on correlating the feedback from the tests she ran earlier." Tom shrugged off his jacket, and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. "What are you cooking there? It smells delicious." He walked up behind his mate, and wrapped his arms around the tall Human male's waist.

"Just a hash, using up the leftovers. Potatoes, last of the frozen turkey meat, some onions, peppers, and mushrooms. Want to share a plate?" Ed chuckled as one of Tom's hands slipped under the waistband of his sweats. His cock, heavy with desire as soon as he realized Tom was home, was given a few slow strokes.

Tom smelled Ed's growing arousal, and pressed his own hard cock against Ed's butt. "Later, perhaps." His free hand turned off the burner. "Right now I want you on your knees in the living room."

"Geez, not in front of the Christmas tree." Ed gasped as Tom's hand left his cock, and cupped his balls instead. A tight kneading and then tugging down. Dinner? Who the hell needed to eat!

"What's wrong with that?" Tom bit what was nearest -Ed's right shoulder blade. Ed jerked, his whole body shivering. Of course Tom's bite would not break the skin, he was always so careful, but it would leave a mark. He liked marking Ed. He didn't like anyone, Human or Dominant, male or female, looking at Ed.

"Just." Ed swallowed, tossing the spatula away, and gripping the edge of the counter. "Seems. Kinky."

"I don't object to kinky. Perhaps it'll serve to remind you just who you belong to. I didn't like you speaking to Dr. Mitchell so intensely last night." Tom stepped back, jerked down Ed's well-worn sweats and lightly slapped the ass he desired so much.

"You can't be serious." Ed's lips were curved in a smile, and he turned around awkwardly, kicking off the stupid pants. "You heard everything we were talking about." Since he and Tom had become lovers -mates- they were rarely ever apart for very long. He hadn't looked at another person. For the first time in his life, he felt really happy. That Sloan understood and accepted the new twist to their friendship was just icing on the cake.

Tom didn't reply, he simply stood there staring at Ed. He was so hard, the front of his slacks were tented and slightly damp. If he wasn't buried in Ed soon, he was going to lose control.

"Okay, okay." Ed nodded, reaching into the kitchen 'junk' drawer and pulling out a tube of lube. (He believed in being prepared. You never knew when a horny Dominant was going to sneak up on you. like now. Horny and possessive.)

Ed walked out to the sunken living room. In front of the glass doors that looked out to the backyard stood the six foot Christmas tree. There was a menorah that sat on in the window that faced the driveway. Sloan liked celebrating holidays. They liked indulging Sloan.

When he had gotten home earlier, Ed had started a fire. He liked how it made everything seem to glow with a soft, golden light, and really made the tree sparkle with all the ornaments. He also liked how the wood smoke smell combined with the scent of the tree. He had thought of what it would be like to make love with Tom in front of the fireplace, but it was one thing they hadn't had time for lately -leisurely lovemaking.

Evidently, they did now.

"No." Tom said, stopping him from prepping himself. "I want to do it."

"Okay." Ed swallowed. "Hands and knees?"

"Yes." Short nod of the brown head. "For now." By the time Tom walked across the living room, he was nude. Generally Tom was pretty finicky about not dropping clothes on the floor.

Ed watched how Tom's cock bobbed as he walked. It had been what? Thirty-six hours since the last time Tom was in him? It seemed like a life time ago -far too long.

Tom hesitated a moment, standing behind Ed. The lean body waiting for him, and he marked the slightly elevated heart rate. Ed never denied him, never pushed him away or demanded something he couldn't give. Like now, when the driving need in him was to take Ed hard and fast; reclaim his territory.

"We okay?" Ed glanced back over his shoulder. The sight of Tom standing there behind him, contemplating his naked body, made Ed shiver. Tom just watching him could make him hard. He was hard now, and he didn't want to wait any longer. He wiggled his ass. "Let's get moving there, partner."

"Yeah." The word was more growled than spoken.

Ed's legs were nudged further apart, and then Tom was kneeling behind him. He took up the tube of lube, squirting some on his fingers. He blinked as the scent nearly overwhelmed him.

"Grape?" He rubbed his hands together, warming up the gel.

"Hey, it was on sale. Besides, it tastes pretty good." Ed chuckled, and then choked as the first finger teased his hole before gently pushing in.

"You're mine, Ed Tate." Tom told him, pulling back and including a second finger. "If I had my way, I don't think you'd ever leave this house. You certainly wouldn't ever get dressed." A third finger and Ed was pushing back, his breathing harsh now. Tom removed his fingers and Ed whined.

"To-oom."

"Say it." Tom growled, slicking up his cock. "Say it now, Ed."

"I'm yours, Tom. Every hair, every cell!" Ed shouted, lowering his shoulders, spreading his knees wider on the rug, and shoving his ass back. "Fuck me, fuck me!"

Tom gripped his hips, holding him steady, and sliding his cock all the way into Ed in one thrust. Ed cried out, trembling and shaking, and nearly coming. Tom reached around, and tightly held the base of Ed's cock.

"You don't come until I say so. You understand, Ed?"

Ed, beyond words, nodded his head. His fingers were dug into the carpet, holding on for dear life. Tom waited a moment for Ed's body to adjust to him before he began moving slowly.

Sometimes they did the deed quick and fast. A lot of the time they didn't have a chance for anything too involved. Just hand jobs in the shower. Tonight Tom was going slow, taking his time to make sure that Ed enjoyed it, and as Sloan sometimes put it, "rock his world". They didn't have to rush; tonight they had all the time in the world. That alone was a rare gift in these days of uncertainty.

He drove them towards the edge of release, monitoring Ed's heart beat automatically, and just when it seemed they were about to explode, he stopped. Reaching around again, he tightly held the base of Ed's cock.

Ed screeched, shoving back against Tom, trying to get the friction going again.

"No, Ed." Tom held him still, one hand on his hip. "Breathe."

"Fuck breathing!" Ed growled in frustration. "Fuck me!"

Tom held still and waited for Ed's heart rate to slow down. The moment it did, he started moving again. Ed howled, mad for release. Tom did this a few times; letting it building, listening to his lover's shouts and cries, and then stopping for a moment. He finally gave it to Ed -release. When he came, his body shook and he bellowed Tom's name hoarsely and passed out.

When he woke up a couple hours later, he was sprawled in the bed he shared with Tom and Sloan. Covers tucked around him, he felt a soul-deep contentment that less than six months ago, he had not ever known. He shifted, and saw that Tom was doing his meditation-type sleep next to him.

Tom always looked younger when he rested, and he certainly didn't look threatening. Ed turned over onto his left side so he could watch Tom, but not touch him. He didn't want to disturb Tom's meditation.

Most of the Dominants he had meant were scary, narrow-minded individuals with one single purpose in life; one goal - the annihilation of the Human species. One's like Lewis who would do anything to further that goal. Kill anyone, use anyone, at whatever cost to him personally.

They were so lucky that Tom had been different! If he hadn't been, Sloan would be dead by now. Ed sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Many of them would be dead by now. They really and truly had so much to be thankful for.

Sloan had voiced her feelings at Thanksgiving, and now he was feeling it himself with Christmas so close. *Thank god for Tom!*

Ed certainly didn't want to think about what his life would be like right now without Tom, without Sloan.

He opened his eyes to watch Tom some more (that always soothed his soul) only to find those smoky blue eyes watching him.

"Are you alright?" Tom asked him, his voice low.

"Yeah." Ed gave him a lopsided grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

Tom reached over and pulled him close, settling Ed's head on his chest. One hand rubbed Ed's back in gentle, soothing circles.

"I am the lucky one. Trust me, Ed." He kissed the top of the unruly brown hair.

"Well, if we want to argue about it." Sloan said from the doorway. She was beaming at them. "We are all very lucky."

"Sloan." Tom and Ed said her name together. Tom shifted his legs over, and patted the bed.

"When did you get home?" Tom asked, glancing at the alarm clock.

"About ten minutes ago." She settled down beside Tom. "I have something important to tell you."

"What-?" Ed started to sit up, but Tom pulled him back down.

"Nothing bad, really." Her eyes sparkled. She stroked his arm, gripped his hand and Tom's. "Something very wonderful."

"What?" Ed whispered this time.

"We're going to have a baby."

END