December 11

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

Author: Patt
Title: Stop It!
Date: Your Choice
Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A frustrated Blair never dreams that his Sentinel might be interested. Disclaimer: They don't belong to me and I make no money.
Feedback address: PattRose1@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: PWP
Beta: Mary Browne Thank you, Mary. You're an absolute Angel.

Stop It!
Patt

"Stop it! Will you never listen to me? You aren't getting any tonight. You aren't getting any tomorrow night. Just forget about it. May as well get used to being celibate."

Jim Ellison lay on his bed, wide awake for the fourth night in a row listening to Blair Sandburg talking to, Jim imagined, Blair's cock. // This is a fucking nightmare. //

"You can stand up and stare at me with that one eye all night long, you're not getting any," Blair sounded more pissed off than anything.

Jim wanted to ask him what was going on but what if it had something to do with the academy? Why ruin a good thing. It seemed like things were going well so far.

"Don't think that crying out your eye is going to make me feel sorry for you. You can't have any,"

Jim smiled up at the ceiling listening to the frustration in his Guide's voice. Jim knew that feeling well.

"Oh, give me a fucking break! I said no and I meant no. Yuck, don't spit at me. Now I'm all slimy. You're nothing but a low life dick. That's right, you heard me. Now lay down and go to sleep, please..."

Jim buried his face into his pillow to contain his laughter. // Chief, you're even cute when you're pissed off. //

Jim finally fell asleep listening to his guide talk to his penis. // Boy, that's something you could write home and tell the fam. //

When Jim got up Blair was already gone. Jim would have burst out laughing anyway. Maybe it was time for that talk.

The day flew by and when Jim got home, Blair grabbed his arm and said, "No way, man. Once you sit down and channel surf, I'll never get you out of here."

"Where are we going, Chief?" Jim pulled his jacket back on and walked out the door with the man that ruled his life. This made Jim smile.

"What's so funny, man?" Blair pulled Jim into the elevator.

"I think it's kind of funny how you have such control over me," Jim leaned into the elevator and waited to see what Blair would say.

Blair just smiled as they got off on the ground floor and headed to the truck.

"So where are we going, Chief? You never said," Jim started down the road and had no idea where they were going.

"We're meeting the guys at the pub. We haven't gone out in a long time," Blair was practically bouncing in his seat.

Jim realized that Blair probably missed the guys a lot more than Jim had realized. "Chief, you miss the guys?"

"Yeah, man, I really do. I can't wait to see them." The smile on his face could have lit a room.

// Ellison, you have it so bad. He's fucking gorgeous and you're in love. //

Pulling into the parking lot, Jim thought Blair was going to bounce right out of the truck. As soon as Jim shut the engine off, he tore off into the Pub.

"Well, so much for him feeling the same way about you. Get over it," Jim walked slowly into the pub with a sad look on his face.

He joined their friends and they all had a good time. Blair got himself good and drunk before they went home.

Blair had gone into the restroom and Jim went in to check on him. Walking in, he could hear Blair whispering, "Now stop it. Please don't do this now. I'm too drunk to fight with you. You're going to embarrass me and Jim's going to be pissed. Now lie down and leave me alone. I bet Jim's dick does what he says. Please... do what I say. Do you want me to get Jim to yell at you? You dick. I hate you. Fine... Stay hard all night long. I don't care."

Jim rapped loudly on the stall and said, "Chief, you okay in there?"

"Why don't you scare the crap out of a guy, Jim? Yeah, I'll be out in a second. Will you do me a favor?"

"What do you want, Sandburg?"

"Will you just act like you're yelling at me and tell me to lie down and go to sleep?"

Jim was having one hell of a time keeping the laughter from erupting. "Goddamit, Chief, get your little ass out into the truck. I'm waiting. You need to go to sleep. Now hurry it up because I'm pissed off," Jim turned and walked out of the restroom and exploded with laughter. He waited in the truck for about five minutes and Blair opened the door.

"Thanks, man. That did the trick, I think," Blair put his seatbelt on and started to fall asleep right away.

Jim gazed over at his sleeping partner and realized once again he was in love with him. Maybe a talk could come in handy?

Jim got Blair safely in bed and then he showered all of the smoke and beer smells off of himself before he went to bed. He looked at the clock as he finally got into bed. // Shit! 2:00 A. M. You're not going to be worth diddly tomorrow. //

Jim woke at 4:00 A. M. to Blair talking to his penis again.

"Oh god, please don't do this. I've got a headache and I might throw up. Go to sleep or I'll get Jim to yell at you again. In fact, I'll ask him now. Jim? I know you can hear me. Will you please come down here?"

Jim went down the stairs and saw something he didn't think he'd ever see. Blair was naked and his cock standing nicely away from his body. Jim couldn't seem to take his eyes off of this scene. "What did you need, Sandburg?"

"Come over here, man. Come closer. Yeah, that's good. Now get lower. Yeah, that's good. Now will you please yell at him again? Really hard, k?"

"Sandburg, why don't you just jack off?" Jim stood up and moved away from the sight and scent.

"I can't come." The sadness in Blair's voice broke Jim's heart.

"What do you mean you can't come?"

"Well, I think that should be self-explanatory, Jim. I have the hard part down, I can stay hard for a long time. Just can't come," Jim thought he'd never seen a sadder look on his Guide's face.

"Want me to help you?" Jim asked.

He didn't even seem to notice what his Sentinel was offering. "It won't work. I've been with a number of women lately and it's just not working," Blair moved over and said, "wanna just lay down here and help me sleep?"

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea, Chief," Jim moved closer to the door as he watched Blair.

"I just wanted someone to hold me. Sorry. Night, Jim," Blair rolled over on his side, his nude back facing Jim and pulled the covers up.

Jim took about two seconds and decided what to do. He pulled his boxers off and slid into Blair's bed. Maybe he could make him feel better.

He moved closer to the younger man and kissed the back of his neck. Blair didn't seem to object, but he might be sleeping. Jim listened and found that his Guide was indeed awake. He kissed his back and then back up to his neck again. By this time Blair was moaning. Jim reached around and touched Blair's cock and began fisting it gently to start and continued the kissing. Blair could feel Jim's cock up against him, making him want to come from that alone. Jim started humping Blair moaning into Blair's neck. Blair moved closer to him so that Jim's cock was between his legs. Blair then closed his legs and Jim was pumping with a passion. He was panting loudly, making Blair feel even better. Jim knew that Blair was close but Blair was afraid he wouldn't come. So Jim bit him in the neck and started stroking his cock as hard as he could. Blair came screaming Jim's name. And Jim followed suit, making quite a mess all over Blair's legs.

Jim got up, cleaned himself off and then Blair. Then he talked Blair into switching to his bed upstairs. They curled into each other's bodies and Jim slept till noon. Blair slept a little later.

Since Jim was the first one up he fixed some food and juice for Blair. He then showered and got dressed. He took a tray up hoping his new lover would be awake this time.

Blair was sitting up, watching Jim with a smile on his face.

"Hey, Chief," Jim leaned into him for a kiss and then set the tray down, "brought you some food and drink,"

"Thanks, you're an angel," Blair kissed him again before he reached for a glass of juice.

"You okay with everything, Blair?"

"Hell, yes! Man, people always said that talk was cheap. It's not, it's just having someone listen to you. You knew what was wrong and fixed it. You must have known I was in love with you. That's why I was having all of those performance problems. I wasn't with the right person. I love you, man," Blair went into Jim's arms and kissed him again. Then he pulled away from him and said, "I'll be right back. I have to talk to a man about a horse."

"You best not be talking to anyone else about that great cock, Sandburg. You're only going to be with me, right?" Jim leaned over the loft railing and watched Blair.

"Duh..." Blair made a run for the bathroom and Jim could hear him talking to his penis again. "Stop it, the sooner you let me get the pissing over with, the sooner I get to go upstairs and have more fun. Come on, cooperate, man."

Jim's arms came around him and started pumping his cock. Blair tried to get away from him and said, "Jim, I can't when I have to piss."

"Yes, you can. You can do both, lean back on me and wait. Jim continued stroking Blair and could feel him getting closer and closer. Again, Jim bit his neck and Blair came all over the toilet seat and then sure enough, he was able to piss. // I hate when he's right. //

Once he finished, Jim turned him around and said, "I love you, Chief. I didn't say it earlier. I don't know why. Now let's clean up and go have some fun."

"This wasn't fun?" Blair asked laughing. He hurried with the clean-up project and then made a run for Jim's bedroom. "Is this going to be my room, too?"

Jim caught up with him and threw him onto the bed. "Yeah, it's your bed, your room, your home, and my heart belongs to only you."

Blair looked down at his cock and said, "Did you hear that? We caught us a fucking romantic. Be good or he'll make me stop talking to you."

"Jim laughed and said, "I like it when you do. Now come here and show me what you'd like to do to me."


End: Stop It!

CRIME:

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

"Home" by AngstPuppy (tshaw at mdvl dot net)

CRIME:

Due South - Benny/Ray/Stan

Author: Caliadragon
Title: Lovers
Date: December 11
Fandom: Due South/Crime Drama
Pairing: Benny/Ray/Stan
Rating: PG
Summary: Stan considers his lovers.
Disclaimer: Not Mine, never will be mine.
Feedback address: Caliadragon1@myself.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: This is the first time I have ever written in this fandom and it has been years since I have seen the show.
Beta: Edi the Wonderful

Lovers

Stan was whistling as he trudged up the stairs to the apartment he shared with his two lovers; something that still shocked him on more than one occasion. When Ray first returned from undercover, everyone had had a great deal of adjustment to make. The captain had decided in his infinite wisdom to make Stan and Ray partners. With the help, that Benny occasionally provided, or the cases that he managed to stumble across their lives were never boring.

It was almost eight months after Ray’s return that the other cop clued in on the fact that Stan had a thing for Benny. Of course the fact that Ray also had feelings for the big man helped as well. They ended up getting drunk and commiserating about the fact that they were both in love and in lust with a clueless hunk.

Of course, it seemed they were just as clueless. It wasn’t until Frasier was kidnapped by an ex-con after Stan that the truth came out. When Ray and Stan finally found Benny, the bigger man began to babble out how much he loved them both and how he knew, he would lose their friendship if it ever came out.

Both cops were pleased for a whole other reason, besides finding their Mountie alive and well. It had taken three days for Benny to recover from the drugs and injures that his kidnappers subjected to him.

At the end of that time, Ray and Stan had made their move on the other man. Within two months, they were all living together and in a committed relationship. Thankfully, Ray’s family didn’t have a problem with the three of them being together. Even Ray’s sister hadn’t thrown a major fit over the relationship.

Tonight they were celebrating their anniversary as well as the New Year. Benny was bringing the wine, Ray was making dinner, and Stan was bringing the desert. The three of them had the night off, no open cases or psychos hunting them. Stan grinned to himself as he came to their door, he could hear Benny giving Deif a lecture and was amused by the fact that he almost understood the growled response by the wolf.

Looking forward to his celebration Stan opened the door and went to meet up with his lovers.

The End

FANTASY

Angel/Buffy - Spike/Doyle

Author: D
Title: Heart’s Desire
Date: December 11
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Spike/Doyle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spike gets his heart’s desire.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all, no money made, no need to sue.
Feedback address: uttrmpt82@netscape.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: * * = thoughts or written words
Beta: Min

HEART'S DESIRE

Muffled curses came from the dusty old closet in the basement of the offices of Wolfram and Hart.  Occasionally, old objects flew out of the closet, hitting the wall of the narrow corridor.

“They should’ve been in here,” Spike practically whined, looking into the last box in the closet.  “This is the only place Angel could have hidden my bloody Christmas presents…but they’re not here!”

Spike threw an old book out of the closet in frustration, letting out a satisfied sigh at the loud thud it made as it hit the wall.  He looked into the box forlornly, wishing that there was something other than Angel’s old crap in it.  With a sigh, Spike started going through the box, hoping he might find something decent in it anyway.

At the bottom of the box, Spike found a video camera.  He pulled it out and tried turning it on.  As the view screen came on, Spike checked for a tape.  It took him a few minutes, but Spike managed to figure out how to play the tape.  On the screen was a dark-haired Irish man who looked familiar.

*Doyle?*  Spike thought, remembering the one time he had seen Doyle and wishing he hadn’t been so interested in getting the Gem of Amara from his poofy sire.

Spike concentrated on the screen again, taking in Doyle’s features.  He looked even better than Spike remembered, although since he had only seen Doyle once and that was to get information on the Gem of Amara, he wasn’t really surprised.

The tape ended and Spike put the video camera back in the box, disappointed at not having found Christmas presents in what he was sure the only place Angel could possibly have put them.  He got up and shoved all of the stuff he had thrown into the corridor back into the closet.

Heading back up to his room to shower, Spike was distracted enough not to notice the package sitting on his dresser until after he finished showering.  After putting on a pair of sweats, Spike searched his duster for his pocket knife to open the package.

Opening it, he saw a simple white card with his name written in beautiful script.  Pulling the card out, he saw a fat red and white striped candle underneath.  Spike opened the card and read the rhyme printed inside.

*Light this candle
With a fire
And you will get your heart’s desire*

Spike snorted at the cheesy rhyme, and figuring he had nothing to lose, took the candle out of the box and lit it with his lighter.

Looking around the room, he thought, *Well, I don’t see my heart’s desire…unless my heart’s desire is a messy room.*  Disappointed but unsurprised, Spike blew out the candle before climbing into bed and quickly falling asleep.

*****

Spike awoke slowly the next morning, vaguely aware of a warm weight draped across his chest.  *This is nice.  I can’t remember the last time I woke up with someone…*

At that thought, Spike woke up fully and looked down to see Doyle sleeping peacefully with his head on Spike’s chest.  Spike stared at him for several minutes in disbelief before finally shaking Doyle gently awake.

Doyle sat blinked at Spike with bleary eyes before he registered who it was that he was with.  He bolted out of bed yelling, “What the ‘ell are you doin’ here and where the ‘ell is here?!”

Belatedly realizing that he was naked, Doyle quickly grabbed the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his waist.  Spike chuckled and Doyle blushed.  Doyle opened his mouth to begin speaking again, but Spike interrupted.  “I’m sleeping in my room in the offices of Wolfram and Hart, so the question should be-what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Doyle hesitated before replying, “I don’t know what I’m doin’ here.  Last thing I remember is waitin’ in a room, it was almost like a doctor’s office, but when I asked the receptionist, she said I’d just have to wait.  My heart’s desire would be there to get me soon.”

At that, Spike’s memory flashed back to the night before and the rhyme in the card.  *He’s my heart’s desire?!  He can’t be; it isn’t possible.  Is it?*

As Spike thought about what he really wanted, he realized that maybe it was possible that Doyle was his heart’s desire.  *Sexy, brave, someone I can identify with and who can identify with me, someone I could come to love…*

He burst out laughing, hardly able to believe his luck.  Doyle looked at him incredulously, wondering what he was laughing about.  “What the ‘ell are ya laughin’ about?”

Spike grabbed the card off of his dresser and as he went to hand it to Doyle, he noticed that there was more writing at the bottom of the card.

*Hope you liked your Christmas present!  I got Willow to help me with the spell for the candle and the message in the card.

Love,
Dawn*

Doyle read the card and stared at Spike.  “I’m your Christmas present?!  From some girl I’ve never even met?”

Before Doyle could get any further, Spike crushed his lips to Doyle’s.  He released Doyle after a few seconds and they stared at each other…until Doyle realized that he had dropped his sheet and scrambled to pick it back up.

As Doyle straightened up, Spike moved toward him and kissed him again, but more softly this time.  Spike started to pull away and Doyle followed him, and when Doyle ran out of breath, Spike backed away from him.

“So…ya got some pants I can borrow?” Doyle asked.  “I need some food and I’d rather not have to go downstairs in a sheet.”  Spike tossed Doyle some sweats from his dresser and turned around as Doyle pulled them on.

“So, food?” Doyle asked as Spike turned around.  Spike grabbed Doyle’s hand and pulled him out of the room.  As they walked down the stairs, Spike glanced at Doyle out of the corner of his eye.

*Yeah, I think this could work.*

END

SCIENCE FICTION

X-files - Mulder/Skinner

Title: It Was The Night Before Christmas …
Author: kira-nerys
Codes: M/Sk, slash, NC-17
Series: X-Files
Summary: Mulder has an obsession for his boss.
Disclaimer. None of the characters belong to me; they belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Entertainment.
Archive: Ask. kira at kardasi dot com. This is where you can send feedback too.
Homepage: www.kardasi.com
Note: Written for the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Author’s Note: Still ain’t that well versed in X-Files canon I’m afraid, so the plot might be thin. Maybe an AU?
Betas: Thanks to Nick and Cyane Snape for looking this story over. Thanks especially to Nick for making me adjust Mulder’s personality somewhat. Feels more like him now, methinks!

It Was The Night Before Christmas …

Fox Mulder was standing at the corner of the tall building where his boss, Mr. Walter Sergei Skinner, lived. Mulder was twitching with excess energy. He’d been keeping the building under surveillance for several hours. It was Saturday, a week before Christmas, and it was getting late in the morning. He’d been waiting for a while now. It was time to move to the next step of his plan, and suddenly Walter had changed his pattern without warning. Was it because it was Christmas soon? But according to Walter himself, he didn’t have any plans for the holidays this year. Was he just sitting in his apartment, suffering from the blues, drinking or something?

Mulder frowned. This was not part of the plan. He leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed in a leisurely pose. He didn’t feel relaxed, but years of FBI training had taught him how to look relaxed and at ease even when he was tense as a bowstring inside. He frowned as snow began to fall, with huge, soft flakes. Soon, the ground was covered with a white, soft layer of the stuff.

He hadn’t expected that, and was only dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. Thankfully, a sweater was tied haphazardly around his slim waist. Mulder pulled it over his head and rubbed his hands together. Would he have to call it a day, just because of the weather?

Walter usually went for a run early on Saturday mornings, but now Mulder had been standing and waiting for two hours, and it was getting late. Worry nagged at the edges of his mind. What if something had happened to Walter? The man never, as long as Mulder had been doing this surveillance, missed his Saturday run. Not even when he’d been working late, or if it were snowing, like today. Walter Skinner was a punctual man, too. Mulder was pretty sure that a light snowfall like this wouldn’t stop the man from getting his exercise … so why was he late?

Suddenly the door to the building opened and the subject of Mulder’s worry exited the large glass doors. A man in his late forties, going bald and wearing steel rimmed glasses. But age or baldness didn’t make him unattractive. He was built, and muscles rippled under the tight, white t-shirt he wore. Skinner shot a glance toward the sky, and put on his hooded jacket and pulled the zipper up as far as it would go. Luckily, it wasn’t long enough to cover buttocks taut underneath the light-gray sweatpants, face tanned, and Mulder knew, even if he couldn’t see it right now, that the man had other assets.

Skinner’s eyes were brown and warm, and his smile could be bright enough to light up a room when he was in a good mood. And when he wasn’t, those eyes could turn you to ice. Mulder knew. He’d been at the other end of one of those glacial stares more than once.

“Okay, Mulder,” he mumbled to himself. “Get a grip. Don’t drool. Just go ahead with your plan.”

Skinner started running towards the park, as usual, and Mulder followed him far enough behind not to rouse any suspicion, but not so far that he might lose the man in case Skinner diverted from his usual path. Who knew? After the stunt his boss pulled today – being two hours late – Mulder was prepared for just about anything.

He kept running, following his boss at a distance for almost thirty minutes. They ran past windows with cheery holiday decorations. Music poured from the speakers above one boutique and the tones from “White Christmas” made Mulder smile. Christmas was usually a rather depressing time of year for him, but right now, he felt pretty good, seeing the snow falling gently from the sky, covering the grey buildings and leafless trees. Maybe this year, it wouldn’t be so bad …?

Mulder picked up the pace and entered a road to the left and kept running a bit faster until he was sure he was ahead of Walter. Then he turned and followed the street that would eventually make him meet his boss. It was a perfectly laid out plan for a “random” meeting. Mulder’s heart picked up a faster beat. He smiled wryly, since the truth was that he was seldom nervous. Well - almost never, even in the line of duty – where he dealt with more than just your regular serial killers. Mulder’s mind went briefly to the cases he and Scully had worked on and what they’d found. Alien conspiracies, cockroach invasions, people who could predict the future, predict who would die and ... other things. He’d seen more than most men wanted to see in their lifetime and now he was nervous. All right, it was part of the plan, and one of the reasons he was doing this. Walter Skinner was one of the few people – correction – one of the few beings in this universe that could make his heart beat faster. The others being his sister Samantha and perhaps also actually seeing one of the Greys alive …

He lifted his head. Running on the soft snow, he’d kept his gaze stubbornly glued to the ground, but now he glanced around, knowing he was approaching the spot where he expected to run into the object of his desires.

And there he was. Merely fifty feet away, concentrating on his running, as always. Skinner – ever the dedicated and focused man. Whatever he was doing, he set his mind to it. Maybe that was the attraction, Mulder thought. He saw himself in Skinner in so many ways, despite their more obvious differences.

I wonder what it would feel like to have that attention completely focused on me? I wonder what it would feel like…?

Mulder pushed the thoughts away and met his boss’ eyes as he approached.

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner nodded.

“Sir.” Mulder nodded back.

Skinner seemed unsure of what to do. Unsure of whether he should just keep running, or stop and talk, so he slowed down marginally and Mulder simply fell in line.

“So, you’re exercising,” Mulder said casually.

“Yeah, gotta stay in shape,” Skinner replied.

*And boy, what a shape*, Mulder thought appreciatively, but forced himself to keep his gaze at his boss’ face.

“Want company?”

“Uh … sure,” Skinner nodded and they picked up pace. At the curve of this street they would end up moving towards the park, Mulder knew. That was why he chose this particular spot to ‘catch up’ with Skinner.

Skinner remained silent and for a few moments Mulder was content simply running alongside his superior officer, enjoying the company and the odd sense of relaxation he felt. Normally, Skinner had a way of getting under his skin, in more ways than one, but he was getting an adrenalin rush from the running and his boss seemed unusually relaxed. Maybe not so strange. They were off duty.

They reached a crossroads and Mulder turned around and started running backwards looking at his boss who was still trodding along the road at a steady pace.

“Sir?”

“Left,” he indicated and nodded.

“Okay, sir.”

Mulder took the left road and they kept running beside each other in silence until they reached the beach.

“Do you always run on Saturdays, sir?”

“Yeah, I do, and cut the sir, Mulder. I’m off duty today. Walter will be just fine.”

“Fine – Walter,” Mulder sent him a cheeky grin, and felt the contentment spread throughout his body. This might not lead to anything more than a few hours in the company of the man he couldn’t stop thinking about even when off duty, but for a moment it felt like all was right with the world and he was going to enjoy the feeling.

“So, where’s Scully?” Walter asked.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Mulder replied and shot his boss a sideways glance.

“I’d venture a guess that she’s spending time with her family,” Walter said wistfully. “Maybe they’re preparing for the holidays?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said and smiled. Skinner smiled back. “But we’re not joined at the hip, you know.”

*Man, you look good when you smile like that! So open and carefree.* Mulder thought wistfully and forced himself to pick up his jaw from the ground before Skinner noticed it lying there.

“You could have fooled me,” Skinner said.

“Well, at work it might be true, but on the few precious days we have off we like to spend time around other people.”

They kept running in silence for a while. It seemed as though Skinner wanted to talk, but didn’t really know what to talk about. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, frowning slightly. Mulder did not want to talk about work. They did that enough at headquarters. No, he wanted to get to know Walter Skinner, the man he was when he was off duty. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where to begin now that he had the chance. Speaking of the holidays didn’t seem very attractive either …

“Do you run every day, Mulder?” Skinner asked after a long silence that, despite everything, wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Yeah, at least when I’ve got time. But I do swim on occasion or try to lift weights and stuff like that to break the monotony. How about you?”

“Yeah. I do that too.”

Mulder wanted to ask why Skinner had been late this morning, but he couldn’t do that. It wasn’t really conducive to the “accidental meeting” gig he had going.

“Do you usually run this late in the day?”

Skinner looked at him and grinned.

“Why do you ask? You want this to be a regular thing?”

Mulder felt a sudden jolt of fear run through his body. Had he been that obvious? But then he realized Skinner was joking, and he decided to take the ball and run with it.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? It beats running by yourself.”

“Hmm,” Skinner replied noncommittally.

Again silence descended upon them. Skinner was getting sweaty and Mulder knew that his boss would turn around and head back home soon, and maybe that was for the best. The strain was getting to him. He’d need to fall back and plan his next “coincidental” meeting with his boss. He’d have to take this slow, tread carefully and test the waters before he did something he might end up regretting. After all, it might be that he had misread his boss. And if that were the case, there was too much at stake. At the same time, Mulder knew that Skinner would never make the first move. It was the matter of chain of command, sexual harassment, and all that.

~¤0X0¤~

Mulder threw his dirty clothes on the sofa and went to the bathroom. It had been a terrible day; it had been a terrible week. He’d thought this holiday season would be different, but … not so far. Mulder sat on the wooden hamper and tried to remind himself of the feeling he had, running through the snow with Walter, but couldn’t get himself to feel the same way again.

He hated these routine missions that had nothing to do with the X-files. Some days, even weeks, were filled with groundwork, staking out some low-life criminal that had the IQ of a dead fish, just to get to the bigger fish. At first, it had been relaxing, but now it was getting to him and he was brimming with impatience, waiting for the next interesting case to catch his and Scully’s interest. Digging through the old X-files hadn’t done much for him. Even he couldn’t pick up some of those leads. He loosened his tie and threw it on the toilet seat. Soon, shirt and pants followed. Scooping them up, he opened the lid of the hamper and pushed the clothes into it. It was pretty full and the leg of his pants hung over the edge, which meant that the lid wouldn’t close. Mulder sighed heavily, turned around and entered the shower. Slowly he relaxed from the mundane events of the day, enjoying how the warm water rinsed the dirt and tension away.

He’d hardly been in the office all week, thus he hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the big man. He hadn’t seen Skinner since the day they’d been running together and it was getting to him. Man, he had it bad. It was a real obsession. He knew himself well enough to know that it was in his psychological profile to be obsessed about things. Look at how he was with his work, but it had been a long time since he felt like this about anything but the X-files. He washed his hair and threw his head back, letting the water sluice down his face. He was tired, dead-tired. He truly needed to sleep, because he hadn’t slept well in days. Not that that was particularly uncommon. This time though, Scully had more or less ordered him to go home and get some shut-eye. He was too tense at the moment though. He knew that sleeping would not be an option if he couldn’t relax. He got out of the shower and glanced at his wristwatch. It was a little after nine. Not too late … He could go over to Skinner’s building to check if the man had any kind of social life. If he were lucky, perhaps the man would get out for a moment? It was Friday after all. The night before Christmas …

Mulder left the bathroom, suddenly feeling more energetic than he had in days. Pulling on a pair of tight jeans, a blue shirt and his leatherjacket, he picked up his car-keys and was out the door before his hair was dry.

~¤0X0¤~

The house was pretty dark. Either a lot of the tenants were out, or people in Skinner’s building went to bed very early on a Friday night. Even the Christmas lights were absent in the majority of the windows. Mulder sat in his car waiting. He’d stopped by a gas station to fill up the car and get some sunflower seeds. Even if Skinner wasn’t going to leave the building tonight, he might still feel better after sitting outside his boss’s building for a while.

It was weird really, Mulder mused. How he could be sitting here “staking out” as usual, and feel so differently about it. Staying outside Skinner’s house – knowing the man was close by – soothed him somehow, and after sitting there for nearly a half-hour he was ready to go back to his apartment to try and get some sleep. But just as he was about to turn the keys in the ignition, someone exited through the glass doors.

It was Skinner, more casually dressed than usual; a pair of blue jeans, snug around his hips and muscular thighs, and finally, he wore a white shirt underneath a brown leather jacket. Very attractive.

A flush of arousal shot through Mulder’s body. It was incredible. He wanted that man more than he wanted anything in this world. And finally admitting it to himself a few weeks ago was what made this happen. He couldn’t stay away. Knowing it was sick, and that he could be kicked out of his job if anyone ever found out about his obsession, Mulder still couldn’t bring himself to care.

He watched as Skinner got into a cab and the taxi driver shot out into the Friday night traffic. Mulder started the car and followed the cab through the city. His tires slid across the slippery winter road, but he righted the car easily. Fifteen minutes later, Skinner got out, outside a club. It seemed to be pretty crowded. Mulder parked his car and went inside.

The place was indeed full of people, and the music poured out of the speakers at a volume that was louder than Mulder had expected. He didn’t recognize the place, but it didn’t really matter. He didn’t feel completely out of place in establishments like these – but Skinner? What was he doing here? Mulder moved through the mass of people moving about. A young, blonde female stopped him with a breathtaking smile. He assumed she wanted to talk, and perhaps more, but Mulder simply smiled and shook his head. He was not interested in female companionship tonight. He never had trouble getting dates, but he was seldom interested. If a roll in the hay was all he had wanted, it wouldn’t have been too hard to find, but he’d had his share of one-night-stands and now he wanted something different.

On the other hand, dancing would probably be a good idea. It would seem less like he was stalking Skinner, who wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that Mulder had followed him. So when a beautiful redhead, who reminded him vaguely of Scully appeared, he asked her if she would like to dance. She nodded and followed him out onto the dance floor. The beat had slowed and a more intimate dance was required. He pulled the small redhead into his arms and they swayed to the music as Mulder let his eyes search the crowded room.

There he was. Skinner stood in the doorway to another room. He was talking to a guard, apparently trying to convince the man that he was allowed in there. Mulder’s curiosity was piqued and when the music stopped he left the woman on the dance floor. He caught her disappointed look in the corner of his eye but he smiled apologetically and left nonetheless.

He went up to the bar and ordered a glass of beer, and watched as Skinner still stood at the doorway. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to approach his boss at this moment, but he moved closer anyway, and soon he was close enough to hear the conversation even with his back turned.

“I’m alone. What difference does it make?” Skinner said.

“The room is full, you’ll have to wait,” the guard said stubbornly.

“Fine,” Skinner said, and Mulder recognized that tone of voice. Skinner was truly fed up and Mulder watched casually as his boss headed away from the door, towards the entrance. He was probably leaving.

“Walter!”

The word was out before he realized it, and his boss turned to look at him. At first his face held a look of confusion and then he smiled tiredly.

“Mulder. What are you doing here?”

Mulder shrugged. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. Where was that gorgeous smile he’d been hoping for? Some of his disappointment must have shone through because Walter moved closer to the bar. He said something, but Mulder couldn’t hear a word.

“What?”

Skinner moved closer and Mulder tensed. His boss was well inside his personal space. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ever being so close to Skinner, unless he was trying to prevent him from doing something stupid in the line of duty of course. Distinct memories of being pushed against the wall with Skinner’s angry glare right in his face came to mind. This was very different. Skinner’s cologne wafted towards him and made Mulder feel dizzy. Good god, the man really smelled good. His mouth went dry and he nearly didn’t hear the words his boss uttered next.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I just...It’s just that I wanted a quiet beer and the bar in there is full.”

“What’s the difference? Get a beer right here with me,” Mulder said when he finally regained his faculties. He even managed to smile. He wasn’t salivating though, was he?

“It’s so damn crowded and loud. It’s different in there. They only allow so many people and it never gets rowdy.”

Skinner still had to stand too close for comfort to make himself heard, but Mulder tried to enjoy the moment without giving himself away. He could feel the tickling sensation when Walter spoke into his ear, warm breath and that deep voice so close. Mulder suppressed a shiver.

“If we’re lucky someone is bound to leave soon.” Mulder said, but he wasn’t so sure he really wanted that to happen. He kind of liked having to stand here, almost chest-to-chest, with the object of all his nightly fantasies.

“Yeah, yeah,” Walter said. It didn’t seem like he truly believed it. But to Mulder’s relief he ordered a beer, which meant he wouldn’t be leaving immediately. He watched as his boss got his beer and then proceeded to take a large swig of it.

“Ahh,” Skinner said and smiled. “Maybe it’s worth getting your ears beat to death after all,” he shouted into Mulder’s ear. Mulder could only nod.

At that moment a whole group of five people apparently chose to leave the bar.

“You want to join me for a while?” Skinner asked.

Mulder hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. They moved through the crowd the few steps to the separate bar and now the guard allowed them to enter. The atmosphere of the room was completely different. The door fell closed behind them and the sound level dropped significantly. In here they were playing music low enough to allow conversation. Skinner sighed as he moved towards the only empty table in the room. It was near a window, in a corner. Very secluded – almost intimate – and Mulder swallowed. Had he bit off more than he could chew?

They slid into the seats and looked at each other. The silence was suddenly overwhelming, and Mulder yawned.

“You tired, Agent?”

“Yeah.”

“The stake-out this week was tough, eh?”

“Hmm,” Mulder admitted. “But I thought you said we’d leave the business alone,” he said hinting at their run the previous weekend.

“I wasn’t aware that our meeting outside of the job was going to be a habit, Fox,” Skinner said pointedly.

“Sorry, I just … well, like you, I feel that it’s nice to leave work alone sometimes.”

“Hm, you could have fooled me,” Skinner said.

Mulder smiled a sheepish smile, knowing full well that Skinner was right. He seldom left work alone, even during weekends or other off time.

“It’s been weeks since we had an X-file to dig our teeth into,” he pointed out.

“I know. Seems the aliens have left us.”

Mulder didn’t even dignify that with an answer.

“You really do look tired,” Skinner said with a hint of concern.

Mulder looked into brown eyes, and the worry there nearly made his heart stop. Was he only imagining things or was there more behind Skinner’s concern than what he might feel for one of his employees? Closing his eyes for a moment, he decided to tell Skinner the truth. If he weren’t prepared to open up to his boss, they would never get to know one another.

“I do have trouble sleeping,” he admitted and looked into his glass of beer.

“Nightmares?”

Mulder nodded. Skinner knew all about that.

“Are they getting worse?”

“No.”

“Are they affecting your work, Mulder? Do you need to take some time off?”

Mulder’s eyes opened swiftly and he stared into the other man’s eyes. Was that all this was about? Concern that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his duties?

“No, sir,” he said pointedly and grabbed his beer. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Why would Skinner ever be interested in him in any other way than his capacity as an Agent of the FBI? Even if he were interested, getting into a relationship would jeopardize their lives. Why would Skinner be willing to do that? Mulder swallowed.

“I think I’d better go home now,” he said and started to rise. Skinner’s hand shot out with almost unnatural speed, and held him back. Their eyes met for the briefest moment and it was as though an electrical charge had passed between them. Mulder swallowed and sat down again.

“Mulder. Sit down.” Skinner sighed. “I didn’t mean to sound so formal. I do care.”

“Do you?” Mulder couldn’t help but ask bitterly.

“Yeah, I do.” Skinner’s brown eyes seemed to change before Mulder. They were always warm and beautiful, but suddenly they looked upon him with something that seemed like tenderness. “I’m not very good at this. And quite frankly, meeting you outside the office is making me uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” Mulder said. He’d been right; this was a lousy idea. He should stop stalking his boss like a lovesick teenager and put his mind back on his work where it belonged. “I really think I should go now.”

“Drink your beer, Mulder,” Skinner said. “I didn’t mean that you make me uncomfortable in that way. I don’t want you to leave. It’s just – I don’t really know how to relate to you outside the office. Damn, I don’t know how to relate to people outside the office. I spend so much time between those four walls that I feel like “A.D. Skinner” is all that I am anymore. It’s not a pleasant feeling.”

Mulder relaxed in his chair. Suddenly he felt sympathy for his boss. He knew what it was like to be so absorbed by your work that it seemed to creep into every waking moment, and sometimes sleeping moments as well. After that revelation it was as if the whole atmosphere between them changed. Skinner relaxed and so did Mulder.

“Why are you here tonight, Mulder?” Skinner asked. “I mean, why are you here alone?”

“Like you, I just wanted a beer before going to bed.” Mulder shied away from Skinner’s gaze. His boss knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t his usual way of trying to go to sleep, so he continued: “I haven’t slept in days, and it always takes a while after work for me to unwind. I just needed to get away from the apartment.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah, I usually either go out for a beer or I go play some basketball or rent a few movies to keep me company.” Suddenly he realized how lonely his life sounded and it was as if Skinner realized it too, but he nodded and nothing but understanding showed in his face.

Mulder realized that their lives were more similar than they were different. Skinner, too, was a lonely man. He had no children, his wife was dead and if he had any other family, Mulder didn’t know about it. Mulder’s own family was a joke. His mother still resented him for so many things. His father was dead and Samantha – well, he really didn’t want to think about his sister right now.

“We’re a couple of sorry bastards, aren’t we?” Skinner laughed. “I’m heading home now. Want to share a cab?”

“Nah, I’ve got my car, but I can give you a ride home if you like,” Mulder said, knowing that after only one beer, he was still fit to drive.

“Sure,” Skinner said.

~¤0X0¤~

The car felt small, intimate – even more so than the place where they’d been sitting. Mulder had trouble concentrating on his driving. Skinner’s presence in the car was almost tangible. He brushed the other man’s knee each time he shifted gears. Skinner did not pull away. Was that significant? Mulder swallowed. He wanted to reach out and squeeze that muscled thigh, give the other man a hint of what was really going on in his mind, but he couldn’t do that.

Suddenly Skinner spoke.

“Mulder … “

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Why have you been following me around?”

Mulder pulled up in front of Skinner’s building and bit his lip. What was he going to say to that? How much did Skinner really know?

“What are you talking about?” he said and turned toward his boss, but when those brown eyes looked at him he couldn’t keep the facade anymore and he simply shook his head. “We need to talk, Walter,” he said. He’d been found out and all he could do was tell Skinner the truth.

“Yeah, I believe we do. Come on then.”

Skinner got out of the car and shut the door. Mulder locked it and followed his superior officer to the elevator. Nothing was said during the ride up to the floor where Skinner’s apartment was. They didn’t even look at each other. Nothing was said as they walked through the corridor leading up to Skinner’s door. Nothing was said when the door locked behind them.

Nothing was said.

* * *

Walter Skinner gasped as he found himself enveloped in the sinewy arms of Fox Mulder, and pushed up against the wall even before the door had completely closed behind them. Mulder’s lips covered his in a bruising kiss at the same moment the door slammed shut. Time had frozen and Skinner was so shocked that he tensed completely at first. Then, Mulder’s lips left his long enough to allow him to breathe and grab at the other man’s shoulders. Then he let go of the shock and allowed himself to feel all the need and desire that was bottled up inside him. The kiss deepened and he could feel some of the tension draining out of his companion. Stupid Fox Mulder. Always diving in feet first, even without knowing what the consequences might be. Or maybe Mulder was just brave – braver than he.

“Fox,” he moaned. “Damn it, Fox,”

“What?” Mulder gasped between those kisses.

Walter didn’t respond. Instead, he let go of any of the protests that were waiting to tumble from his mouth. He started tugging at Mulder’s leather jacket, pulling it off him in a swift movement. Mulder took that as an invitation to get Skinner undressed as well. Intense arousal shot through his body like erupting lava. They tore the shirts off each other as they moved up the stairs to the master bedroom. Walter couldn’t believe this was happening. He inhaled the scent of Fox Mulder. The man he’d wanted for so long but thought he could never have. Until the last couple of weeks …

“Walter,” Mulder groaned. “Damn it, man, I didn’t even know you were gay.”

“Is that why you kept stalking me?” he hissed and pushed Mulder down on the bed.

Apparently, Mulder’s ability to respond was swiftly taken away from him when he found himself crushed to the mattress by the compact form of his bed companion. Walter enjoyed feeling the sinewy body squirming underneath his own, the hardness pressing against his groin. He thrust against Mulder, unable to stop himself, and Mulder threw his head back, exposing a long, pale neck to kisses and bites. Walter didn’t hesitate but dove in. Mulder tasted good, tasted of soap and a hint of salty sweat.

Skinner moved his mouth from the inviting neck to the full lips that responded so eagerly and he groaned again, tasting the beer on Mulder’s tongue, feeling the long fingers dig into his shoulders, scratching along his bare back.

“Fuck,” Mulder hissed.

Walter swallowed Mulder’s next words in another deep kiss, buried his hands in the too-long hair and mussed it even more. Mulder’s eyes were half-lidded, studying him and not trying to hide the intense lust.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Mulder asked.

“Let’s not talk,” Walter responded. If he were to explain to Mulder why he hadn’t said anything, the voice of reason might take over, and he really, really didn’t want to be reasonable or responsible right now. He just wanted to do this, to enjoy this, to allow himself this small pleasure. To feel Mulder’s full lips around his cock, to thrust inside that fuckable mouth, and to come, come …

“All right,” Mulder said and pushed Walter to the side, started undoing his pants and it was as though Mulder had read his mind. Walter groaned aloud when Mulder’s fingers brushed against his still clad cock. Then the air hit his sensitive skin as the boxers were pushed aside.

“Oh, man, aren’t you big … everywhere,” Mulder said, with that childish awe he sometimes displayed, the awe that almost always annoyed Skinner – but not this time. This time, he chuckled and their eyes met for the briefest of moment. Then Skinner’s eyes fell shut, as Mulder scooted down and grabbed a steady hold of the base of his cock, blowing on it lightly and made Skinner shiver. Mulder’s lips then slid wetly across the head of his cock, and Skinner forced his eyes open. He’d wanted to see this for ages, and he wasn’t going to deny himself the vision now.

“Oh, good god,” he groaned as Mulder’s mouth sank down fully over his cock, and the warm lips and agile tongue laved him with saliva.

The sensation was like a warm, satiny haven of pure bliss. He couldn’t help thrusting into that heat. So good. Then Mulder started to move, and Skinner wasn’t sure he was going to be able to keep his eyes open, but he wanted to – he *had* to. He’d been right. Mulder’s lips were made for this, the full lips that wrapped around his cock moved skilfully and eagerly across his sensitive skin. Mulder was so good at this. The best. And Skinner admitted to himself that this was something he had wanted from the very moment he’d laid eyes on Agent Fox Mulder.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as Mulder really went for it. Licks, sucks and small bites, nails scraping along the underside while the tongue did something incredible to that place underneath the glans that just … “OH!” Skinner felt the tension gathering in his lower body, the heat coiling in his belly.

“Mmm,” Mulder hummed and the vibrations sent sparks along the shaft of Skinner’s cock, bliss. Bliss. Then Mulder’s mouth moved away and Skinner groaned in disappointment, but hissed when the mouth took one of his balls inside instead, pulling it gently away from the body, staving off the orgasm for just a little while longer. It was good, so good. Skinner couldn’t remember when it had ever been this good before. Nobody had sucked him quite like this. Good god, but Mulder was a natural….

“Ah!” he hissed when the mouth went back to his cock and started sucking again, in earnest this time. Up and down, slowly at first, but then faster, and the tongue moving like a … “Ah!” he repeated, unable to say or do anything but just thrust into that mouth, feeling the throat opening up, allowing him in, deep, deep as he could go, harder and faster and …

“Oh!” he hissed as the heat exploded low in his belly, burning, burning and taking him down completely into that abyss of pleasure he’d been longing for and it was Mulder, Mulder’s lips. Mulder’s mouth, and Mulder’s tongue doing that to him. “Oh….”

The spasms slowed and ebbed and he closed his eyes as he relaxed on the bed. That was just …

“Incredible,” he whispered. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“Glad you enjoyed,” Mulder said cheekily.

Skinner wanted to growl and pull Mulder down into his arms, but damn, he was totally drained. He just had to catch his breath for a moment, and then …

* * *

That hard hand around his cock, jerking him off, was moving at the exact right pace, and the thumb brushed across the head at the perfect moment, and Mulder bucked into that caress. Feeling the other hand, the thumb, brushing against his opening was even better. The sparks sizzled across his balls and his cock and further. He felt like he was burning, as though his entire body was coiled as tight as possible, as though it just couldn’t get any better than this, and then it did. Walter’s mouth descended on his cock and the lips wrapped around him …

“Oh, damn,” Mulder groaned, and the tension just mounted, and grew and grew, until that thumb slid into his hole, brushing against that perfect spot, sending sizzling sparks through his entire being and he exploded.

Then there was nothing for a long time. He was just panting, trying to catch his breath, trying to remember where he’d gotten the courage to even initiate this, and then reality sunk in.

What was going to happen now? His eyes flew open and met Walter Skinner’s chocolate brown eyes. They were calm, sated and … happy.

“Relax, Mulder. We’ve got a couple of days off. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

And suddenly, Mulder knew that they would. He had seldom felt as sure about anything as he did about that, this very moment.

Walter reached out and turned off the lights, and then he pulled the covers over them.

Mulder felt sleep sneaking up on him for the first time in God only knew how many days. His last waking thought was, that this year, Christmas wouldn’t be so bad.

END

MOVIEVERSE

Terminator - John Connor/Terminator

Author: Caro Dee
Title: A Boy and His Terminator
Date: December 11
Fandom: Terminator/Movies
Pairing: John Connor/Terminator
Rating: NC-17
Summary: If it was called love in humans and something else in terminators, in the end it came down to the same thing.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me and I make no profit from this.
Feedback address: carodee@popullus.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Note: This story is set four/five years after the end of the second Terminator movie and before the third one. John Connor is eighteen.
Beta: Thanks to Ellen for the extra fast beta.

A BOY AND HIS TERMINATOR

John Connor rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. His mind wouldn't shut off and he was too restless to sleep. In the dark of the night, memories swamped him.

Almost without conscious thought, his hand slipped over to cup his half-hard cock, which stretched and grew. The touch of his own hand was good but not what he really wanted...

John looked over to where his terminator stood in the dark. The tall, bulky figure gazed out the window like a sentry standing guard. John pitied anyone who might try to enter the hotel room without permission; they would be dead before they knew it. John smiled.

The terminator protected him, guarded him, obeyed him. It was in his programming to do so and John had found that a moral dilemma back in the days when he first realized what he wanted. But then he came to understand that John himself was programmed to protect and obey and, if it was called love in humans and something else in terminators, in the end it came down to the same thing.

It was cold in the room. The snowstorm that had them holed up like this was a harbinger of Christmas, only a week away. Idly, John wondered what he should get the terminator as a gift, since there was nothing he particularly needed and want simply wasn't a term he understood. But John couldn't help that he wanted to spoil his companion. He stretched luxuriously on the bed until his spine cracked, displaying himself to the cold eye that turned to look down at him.

'You should sleep," the unemotional voice told him.

"I'm too wound up," John said, smilingly. "You could help me out."

The terminator silently turned back to the window, then after a few seconds he looked back at John.

A jolt of excitement ran through John's body and his cock throbbed. "Come here."

Unhesitatingly, the figure came forward to stand beside the bed.

"Take off your shirt," John told him and the terminator moved to obey, laying the shotgun down carefully on the bed and removing his leather jacket and sweater until his well-muscled torso was revealed.

"Kneel here," John said and moved to sit on the edge of the bed with the kneeling terminator between his legs. John cupped the stern face with both hands and kissed his mouth gently. The terminator's lips opened to allow John access but otherwise remained passive. He'd asked John once what the purpose of kissing was. "It feels good to me," was the only answer John could give since it was clear that the terminator was unmoved by it. The terminator had given him that "humans are strange" look that always caused a churning of amused affection in John's heart, but he'd cooperated without any further comments.

John broke off the kiss and began stroking the terminator's face gently. The flesh had long since grown back to cover the metal and the scars had faded away. The hair never completely grew back and he'd decided it was less conspicuous for the rest to be shaved off. Even John at his most adoring had to admit his terminator was one ugly dude.

The eyeball never grew back and so the sunglasses were normally worn at all times, but John really liked the strangeness of one human eye and one glowing machine eye. It reminded him of who the terminator was, reminded him not to assume human motivations, human needs. It was also very cool looking.

The face was less impassive now. John's light, wispy strokes over the face and down onto the massive torso had muscles twitching frantically under the skin. The terminator had no sexual response like humans, but they'd discovered that the sensory input from light, ticklish strokes was very satisfying to the cyborg. John had even seen him lightly stroke his own stomach for hours at a time when they were in safe situations. The sight never failed to arouse John and lead to other things.

So John happily spent fifteen minutes pleasing his terminator and ignoring the throbbing between his legs. Then when he couldn't hold off any longer, he lay back on the bed and told the terminator to suck him.

There was no hesitation, no holding back. The terminator was well-practiced at this, having done it many, many times over the past year -- ever since John Connor had, at the ripe age of seventeen, realized that, in the complex mix of ambivalent emotions he felt towards his own personal living machine, lust and affection and trust were predominant and gave his first sexual order. John felt that it had worked out well for the both of them.

He knew it was really, really, really wonderful for him. He thrust up into the warm, wet mouth that provided steady, flawless friction and sobbed at how amazing it felt. It was as if he was plugged into the right, the most perfect socket and the electricity buzzed through him. Man and machine connected in the most fundamental, beautiful way. He was filled with ecstatic energy and wished he could be here, in this way, with his terminator all the time.

"Do it!" he cried, desperately. "Do it now!" The terminator's movements changed from the smooth swallowing of John's cock to outwardly still, but inwardly, the tongue and mouth began an intense vibration, which John could feel spread immediately through his cock and balls to his entire lower torso. The sudden increase in stimulation had John writhing and crying out and it was only a matter of moments before he was coming, he was coming into his lover's mouth, spilling everything he had into that most perfect place, becoming a part -- even temporarily -- of the one he loved...

Shuddering in the dark, staring up blindly at the ceiling, John rode his orgasm to the end. And when it was over, he buried his face in the pillow, ignoring the burning in his eyes, the sense of emptiness in his heart. Stupid. It was so stupid to feel this way, to want something that had never happened, that all possibility of happening had died years ago in a selfless suicide, melted to scrap metal in a steel factory.

END

MOVIEVERSE

Hackers - Cereal Killer/Lord Nikon, Dade Murphy/Kate Libby

Author: Retrofit88
Title: P2P Pressure
Date: December 8
Fandom: Hackers/Movies
Pairing: Cereal Killer/Lord Nikon; Dade Murphy/Kate Libby
Rating: R for language
Summary: The day before Christmas Eve, what to buy, what to buy?
Disclaimer: Parody/derivative works. Hey, maybe it's a legal protection. “Not mine” sure as heck isn't.
Feedback address: retrofit@retrofit.slashcity.net
Website: http://retrofit.slashcity.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Contains references to heterosexual sexual activities (kinky ones, but nevertheless het.) Also, several characters are in the 16-17-18-year-old age range, and are engaging in sexual activities and talk.
Beta: The excellently thoughtful Nit Wicks

P2P Pressure

Like most New York apartments, this one had its own idiosyncrasies: the front door opened directly into a room that was either an unusually wide hallway or a spectacularly narrow living room. The kitchen and bathroom were cramped, and though both tiny bedrooms had the standard issue four square walls, neither had a closet. The heating and cooling system had been creatively cobbled together by several decades' worth of superintendents. On the morning of December 23 rd , the temperatures of the four separate microclimates within the apartment ranged from 76 ° F (Dade's room) to 36 ° F (the bathroom, unfortunately).

Dade sat on his bed, which was wedged under the window at one end of the room. The bright morning sun gleamed off his short-clipped bleach-blond hair, but his dark blue eyes were still bleary from sleep. He wore a red t-shirt that was about two washings away from transparent and about two sizes too small, even for his narrow frame. The neck of the t-shirt was completely stretched out, as was the elastic in his blue boxer shorts. If he stood up, the shorts would probably fall off.

He was fiddling with his homemade portable computer; the camo paint job was really flaking off – time to come up with a new color scheme. Across the room (just out of reach of Dade's bare toes) was a tiny desk, which housed his other computer and a haphazard collection of papers, tapes, and floppy disks. His other other computer lived under the desk, next to a pile of random computer parts that were escaping across the floor. Dade liked computers. So did his friends. Which was a good thing really; due to the extreme length of his legs, Dade's friend who was sitting on the floor was more or less in the pile of computer parts.

Though his given name was Emmanuel Goldstein, the friend in question answered happily to “Cereal Killer”. His fashion choices matched his improbable handle. Four light brown chin-length braids were distributed evenly around his head. The two front braids framed his rather wide forehead, and the two in back were unraveling after a night spent on the couch in the living room-slash-hallway. His sleepy blue eyes smiled at nothing in particular.

The Dead Kennedys t-shirt that he'd slept in barely qualified as clothing; the neck and both sleeves had been ripped off, and the side seams were slit almost all the way to the waist. His legs were clad in olive drab pants of dubious origin, much too large in the waist and rather a lot too short in the inseam. He'd slept with his shoes on; ratty Converse hi-tops of indeterminate color covered in several layers of ballpoint ink, white-out, duct tape, and permanent marker.

“Cereal, honey,” Dade's mom's voice rang out from the kitchen, “it's Winter Break. You do actually have a home to go to for the holidays, right?”

Cereal called back, “Yes, I do, Mrs. Murphy. I just like your home a lot better!” He added, “Pretty much anybody's home is better” just loud enough for Dade to hear.

“Okay boys,” Dade's mom came to the bedroom door. “I'm headed out for some last-minute Christmas shopping. I'll be back this afternoon. Try not to do anything that'll cause the Feds to raid the house while I'm gone – I'm fresh out of bail money.”

The two boys turned their most angelic faces towards her. She gave them a dirty look, shook her finger at them, and left.

The ringing phone sent Dade scrabbling under the bed. He hunted it down and answered on the fourth ring. All he got out was “Heh-“ before he was interrupted by the voice on the other end. Dade responded with “Uh huh”, and “Yeah”. After a final “Okay”, he hung the phone back up.

“Dude, you're so totally whipped,” Cereal taunted.

“Why yes, that was Kate, thanks for asking. She's coming over.”

Dade's girlfriend was the scariest person either of them knew. She was also just about the hottest girl in their entire school. When she had chosen to go out with Dade, he – and all of the rest of their friends – had been amazed. Dade still seemed to be walking around in a haze a lot of the time, and he and Kate had been together for about five months. Cereal figured that Kate's interest in Dade had a lot to do with the fact that he was easy to push around; he was beginning to think that Dade's interest in Kate was at least partly due to her talent for pushing.

“Did you really wear a dress on your first date?”

“It wasn't a dress , exactly…” Dade was stalling.

“Oh, so, normal pair of pants, then?”

“Well… More of a, um, frock coat, really.”

“A ‘frock coat'?”

“Um, a coat with a, uh, kind of a skirt?”

“Yeah, okay, that doesn't sound anything like a dress .” Cereal's tone conveyed his utmost sarcasm as he sauntered off toward the bathroom.

Dade was a pretty fashion-forward guy; his clothes didn't convey the happy-go-lucky insanity of Cereal's outfits, but they were not the sort of thing you saw on the street every day. Well, in New York, maybe you'd see something like them a couple times a week, but he managed to communicate his individuality pretty well. The almost-dress Kate had picked out for him for their date had kinda pushed his boundaries, and he figured he'd been pretty lucky to avoid the red patent-pleather lingerie.

Kate had actually worn a dress on the date, too – an unprecedented event. It had been the terms of the bet that Dade had won. Still, since his buddies had confessed to letting Dade win solely so he could get a date with Kate, she'd insisted he hold up his end of the deal as well.

“So,” Cereal began conversationally as he returned from his brief shower, shivering, “you and Kate are-“ he thrust his hips “-doin' the nasty, right?”

“You are so incredibly RUDE,” Dade yelped.

“But you are, right?” Cereal was nothing if not persistent when it came to inappropriate conversations.

“Yes, we are.” Dade admitted sheepishly as he lay back down.

“Has she ever, you know, fucked you?”

“What the hell?” Dade's eyebrows practically jumped off his forehead.

“Well, I was just thinking, when I was in the shower. Kate's kind of, ya know, bossy. And I figured, she likes to be in charge the rest of the time, maybe she kinda…”

Dade flopped back on the bed, as Cereal dug a clean and completely shredded t-shirt out of his army-surplus bag. Dade threw his arm over his eyes. “First of all, please refrain from thinking about my girlfriend when you're in the SHOWER! Second of all, it's none of your business.”

“Hey, don't feel left out – I was thinking about both of you while I was in the shower.”

Dade pulled a pillow over his face and screamed quietly into it.

“Bet she's played with your ass, at least,” Cereal mumbled.

When Dade didn't reply, Cereal looked back over his shoulder. Dade had dropped his jaw and pressed his lips together, staring at some invisible crack in the wall. His cheeks were flaming red.

“She has, she totally has!” Cereal crowed triumphantly. “Isn't it awesome?”

Dade rolled over and looked curiously at his friend. Cereal finished pulling on his pants, cinched them in with a leather belt, and began fastening his suspenders.

“You should totally let her fuck you,” he continued. “Git your freak on!”

A new voice broke in, “Much as I hate to interrupt the corrupting influences you're exerting on Dade right now, I have to ask, what unfortunate woman has been confronted with your hygienically-challenged body?”

Kate Libby, Dade's girlfriend, stood in the door. Her right elbow was planted on the doorframe next to her head, left hand on hip. She wore a red and white motorcycle jacket with black trim, tight black pants, and heavy black boots with just the slightest suggestion of a heel. She'd just pulled off her motorcycle helmet, so her short shag haircut was a little mussed. As always, it looked as good as if she'd done it on purpose.

Dade moaned and put the pillow back in front of his face. “Can we not be talking about this?”

Cereal, however, could not be silenced. “Hey, I'm clean, I just got out of the shower! And who said anything about any girls?”

Kate smiled slowly. “I didn't know you were playing both sides of the fence.”

“Well it's not like I'm gonna go getting fucked with a dildo when there's the real thing available!”

Kate came in to the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached over Dade, leaning on her arm. Cereal turned to face her and missed the entrance of a slightly older man with ear-length dreadlocks. He was shorter than either Cereal or Dade – closer to Kate's height, actually - and at about twenty-five, older than any of them. A few of his dreads were bleached gold and he wore a multicolored bike-racing jersey under his overcoat. There were at least two pagers clipped to his belt.

“If a ‘dildo', as you put it, is so vastly inferior to ‘the real thing', why are you advising Dade to settle for one?” Kate asked Cereal.

Dade “mmphed” into the pillow again, this time louder and higher-pitched. Kate stroked his exposed stomach.

“Well, he's totally into you, so he'll like pretty much anything you do to him. And you're the only girl I know who could fuck as good as a guy, and you're totally into him, so I'm outta luck there, right?”

“Nice save,” the man standing behind Cereal chimed in. His voice was low and resonant. “From her perspective, and mine.” Cereal turned around, startled, as Dade removed the pillow from his face and craned his neck back to look at the door.

“Nikon!” Cereal exclaimed.

Dade said, “Thank God– maybe we can move on to some other topic of discussion?”

“Oh, no,” Kate broke in. “Emmanuel, here, implied that he's been exploring the potential pleasures of anal stimulation with a fellow member of the weaker sex. My interest is certainly piqued.”

Cereal hemmed and hawed a bit; looked down at Nikon, grinned lopsidedly. Nikon rolled his eyes. “This was supposed to remain private, you idiot. Remember how I explained to you about statutory rape?”

“Aww, c'mon Nikon. I was just telling Dade how good it feels…”

“And I'm sure Kate appreciates that, but it's my idiot-child-molesting self on the line, now isn't it? I'm wondering why I ever let your gangly, sorry, pale, narrow ass stay over in the first place.”

“Umm… ‘cuz ya like me?” Cereal bent to rest his temple on Nikon's shoulder, making puppy-dog eyes up into the stern face. Nikon gave Cereal a shove in the ribs, and then they both cracked up laughing. Kate and Dade looked on bemusedly.

“Really?” Dade said wonderingly, “You guys are sleeping together?”

“Well, he's been crashing at my place most nights for the last couple months. He's been sexually harassing me for many moons longer than that,” Nikon explained.

Cereal smiled proudly. “I harassed him into having sex with me!”

Nikon reached up and pulled Cereal down into a headlock. “Honestly, I can't take you anywhere!”

“So wait,” Dade asked. “If you're staying at Nikon's place all the time, how come you slept on my couch last night?”

“Christmas rush. I picked up some night-shift hours, and he doesn't like staying alone when I'm at work,” Nikon answered.

Kate snorted, “How pathetically romantic.”

“That's me, pathetically romantic!” Cereal beamed. Nikon rolled his eyes again and turned to look at Cereal. The goofy smile on the tall boy's face softened Nikon's annoyed expression, and he thwacked Cereal gently on the forehead. Cereal wrapped his long thin arms around Nikon's waist, and leaned down. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, then Cereal opened his mouth to softly lick Nikon's lips. Nikon opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and put his hands on Cereal's chest. The gaping t-shirt exposed a dark pink nipple, and Nikon tongued it as Cereal's head fell back.

Kate, inspired, ran her hand up under Dade's t-shirt and tweaked one of his nipples. “Get dressed,” she ordered. “We're going Christmas shopping, remember?”

“I thought we finished yesterday!” Dade protested.

“Didn't you still want that extra cat-5 cable? Besides, now I have some new ideas for your stocking stuffers…” Kate's voice held all kinds of intent and Dade blushed furiously, then got and began to get dressed fairly energetically.

Cereal broke out of his clinch with Nikon. “Cool!” he exclaimed. “Sex toy field trip!”

END

ANIMATED

X-Men - Scott/Logan

Author: Crisis Kris
Title: Perfect
Date: December 11
Fandom: X-Men/Comics
Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan
Rating: R
Summary: Scott thinks he's come up with the perfect way to get rid of Logan for good...
Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is the chance to write fan fiction without being sued. Therefore I am officially and publicly acknowledging that the characters and settings featured in this story do not belong to me, but are the intellectual property of Marvel Comics.
Notes: I’m actually writing a movie-verse story, and it takes place after X2.
Feedback address: kmatwood@shaw.ca
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: The Amazing Gaaak

***

It was Christmas time at the Xavier Institute for the Gifted, and the place was buzzing with energy and excitement. Most of the children who lived at the Institute were runaways (or throwaways) and had nowhere to go for the holidays, so the staff took extra care to make sure that Christmas meant fun, not loneliness and grief: there was a gigantic tree crowding the dining room that all the kids had helped decorate. Kurt Wagner had amused them in the process by teleporting up to the top to hang ornaments on the highest branches, and then quickly teleporting back to the ground before gravity took hold. When they were nearly done, he scooped up one of the younger children and teleported with her so she could place the star on the highest bough of the tree. Now it glittered madly, twinkling with lights, tinsel, and shiny decorations. Gradually the space beneath the tree filled up with gaily wrapped presents that made even the most cynical student’s eyes light up.

While Charles had made sure that every student – and every teacher – got an ‘official’ present from the Institute, they had also decided to do something different this year. They were going to have a Secret Santa. Students came from all over the place and arrived at different times during the year, so some had less of a chance to make friends before the holidays, and Charles had worried that they would feel hurt if they got less presents than others. Storm had suggested that instead of exchanging presents with their friends, the kids should all exchange presents in the Secret Santa. Upon hearing the idea, Jubilee argued that the staff should be included too, since they also tended to come from all over the place at different times; Kurt, for instance, had only been around for a few months. Soon, everyone was involved – even Charles.

They drew names on a perfect December evening – it was chilly, but not freezing cold outside, and there was the lightest dusting of snow falling, white against the darkening blue sky visible through the windows. Supper was over and everyone was full and happy, drinking hot chocolate in the soft glow of the brightly lit tree. Storm passed around scraps of paper and everyone wrote their names down and dumped them in a box. Even Logan participated, which surprised Charles – and pleased him to no end. He’d expected the solitary man to pack up and leave as soon as they’d returned to the mansion after Jean’s death at Alkali Lake, but he had stayed, providing rudimentary first aid services that he’d picked up somewhere along the line until they were able to find a replacement doctor. After Dr. Hank McCoy had arrived, Logan had come to Charles and offered to fix the roof, which hadn’t been properly looked after in several years. Then it was another reason, and then another.

He hadn’t been quite so inclined to participate in the goings on of the school, however, and had initially balked at joining the Secret Santa. It had been Rogue that eventually talked him into it, arguing at first that he had to, because otherwise there would be an odd number of names and someone would be left out, and then promising that if he got a name he didn’t know what to do with, she would help. They weren’t technically supposed to tell each other who they had, but no one minded making Logan the exception to the rule. After all, wasn’t he always?

Now, Logan had his hand in the box, digging through the scraps of paper in order to pull out the name of the person he would buy a gift for. He finally decided on one and pulled his hand out, unfolding the little piece. Reading the name, he nodded, looking very relieved. Storm gave him a little smile, glad that he’d pulled a name he thought he could handle, and moved on to the next teacher in line.

That teacher was Scott. He thrust his hand into the box, grabbed the first piece of paper he found, and withdrew. The evening was wearing on, and they were almost finished, so Storm moved on to Charles Xavier even as Scott opened his paper. He stared at the name in shock:

Logan.

He’d pulled Logan’s name. Scott’s heart skipped a beat. Of all the names he could have gotten… his mouth suddenly felt dry, and his skin felt flushed. He glanced up quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but most of the students had already moved off, their faces thoughtful as they schemed about what presents to buy. Only Storm and Charles remained; the former was re-hanging a couple of ornaments that had fallen off the tree. The latter was looking back at Scott, looking inquisitive and a little surprised. Scott flushed fully and turned away. Mumbling something about checking on the kids, he fled the room, feeling Charles’ eyes burning into him as he went.

***

That night Scott found it impossible to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, replaying the evening in his head. Why had he been so embarrassed to draw Logan’s name? Why had he flushed and run away when Charles looked at him? Honestly, he was acting like a school boy. Like a lovesick…

Wait a minute.

“That’s ridiculous,” he dismissed aloud. “It’s preposterous. There’s simply no way. I am not in love with Logan.” The words sounded loud and harsh in the quiet of his empty room, echoing off the spaces that Jeannie used to fill before she’d died to save them all. “Jesus Christ,” he finished, sitting up and rubbing his face.

He stood and strode to the en suite bathroom, pouring a glass of water. A few deep breaths helped to clear his head. “It’s just that I have no idea what to get the guy,” he reasoned, heading back towards bed. “I mean, what do you give to a man who thinks you’re an asshole – whom you think is an asshole too? We hate each other. That’s all – I just don’t feel like putting the effort into finding a gift for a man that I hate.” Convinced, he lay his head back down and drifted off to sleep.

***

Scott woke up in a foul mood the next morning. His night had been full of shadowy dreams, little wisps of images that hardly framed a story, and which drifted out of his head as soon as they came in. He therefore couldn’t remember much of them, save for a few images. One was of Logan, spread naked before him, with his eyes shut, his body covered in a fine coat of sweat. Another was of three Adamantium claws swinging in a slow motion arc towards Scott’s head. Inexplicably, he’d woken with a hard on – a hard on that demanded attention. And when Scott gave it what it wanted, the images that came unbidden to his mind as he came were not of a certain lovely red headed woman. They were of…

“Argh!” Scott was thrust out of his thoughts by the severe pain in his left hand, which was now red and starting to blister. He’d picked up the metal frying pan that he was cooking his eggs in without grabbing a towel to wrap around the handle first. “Damn it!” His shouts brought him to the attention of the other occupants in the kitchen – Charles and Logan. Perfect.

Logan came up to him, perfunctorily examining the hand. “Hold still,” he demanded, reaching into the nearby freezer for some ice. He wrapped the ice in a tea towel and pressed the towel against Scott’s hand. “Ten minutes on, ten minutes off,” he instructed. “Don’t put any of that painkiller crap on it, you’ll only make it worse. Let me know if the blisters break.”

Scott nodded, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that his hand lay in Logan’s gentle grip, and flushed. He pulled his hand away. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “It’s minor.”

“I’m only trying to help,” Logan replied.

“I don’t need your help.”

Abandoning his eggs, Scott stormed out of the kitchen, well aware that Charles was *looking* at him again. As he rounded the corner, heading towards his office, he heard Logan complaining loudly, “what’s crawled up his ass and died?”

Scott took the last few steps at a near-run and yanked his office door open, slamming it behind him as he entered the room. “I hate that man!” he cried, slumping against the desk. He was breathing heavily, as red as a beet. ‘Goddamn it’, he thought. What the hell was wrong with him?

***

It wasn’t surprising that Charles came into his office about ten minutes later. “That was quite a display,” he said, his voice amused.

Scott bit back the urge to snarl. “I’m glad you were entertained,” he replied. Charles only looked at him with compassion and gentleness in his eyes. Finally Scott relented. “I know,” he said, averting his gaze. “I acted like an idiot. I know.”

“I don’t mean to pry, Scott,” Charles replied, almost hesitantly. “However, the other night, you were – projecting your thoughts quite loudly.” Scott stiffened but said nothing. “I only want to say – if you are attracted to him, why not admit it to yourself? I’m not suggesting any course of action; it would hardly be my place. But it pains me, Scott, to see you trying to stifle your feelings in this way.”

“It’s not that simple,” Scott replied, gritting his teeth.

Charles sighed. “I’m sure it isn’t,” he replied, feeling his way through the conversation. “Scott, it wouldn’t be a betrayal of Jean, of your love for Jean, if you were to admit to yourself that you were physically attracted to another human being. After all, Jean herself was in that same position, and she didn’t betray your love.”

“That’s not it.” To his dismay, Scott found that he was blushing again, heat radiating off his cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it, Charles, I just want it to go *away*.” He slammed his fist against his desk to emphasize the point.

Charles was silent for a moment, probing. “Oh – I see,” he said then. “Forgive me, Scott. I was mistaken about the source of your discomfort. You’re concerned that your feelings of sexual attraction for Logan may have implications for your sexual identity.”

“Do you have to be so clinical about it?” Scott slumped down in his chair, eyes firmly planted on his shoes. Charles had always been like this. Scott remembered his first ‘birds and bees’ lecture from the man, way back when he was fifteen years old and had just arrived at the Institute. It was the same now – when the conversation turned to sex, Charles became a lecturer. It only made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” Charles apologized again. “Just please – think about accepting your feelings rather than denying them? I hate to see you in such pain.” Leaving it at that, Charles gracefully wheeled himself around and let himself out of the office.

Scott let out a breath once he was gone, grateful to be alone. “Son of a bitch,” he commented to the air. “I’m too old to be having an identity crisis.”
***

The next night, the dreams were even more explicit, and less deniable. Scott woke early in the morning, skin flushed, already coming. “Damn it,” he cursed, riding out the last of his orgasm. He felt like a teenager again! ‘That’s the last straw,’ he thought, throwing his boxers into the laundry hamper disgustedly. ‘Somehow this has to change.’

At breakfast, Scott spent much of his time repeating, ‘I am not attracted to Logan’ in his head like a mantra. He alternated thinking about the words with visualizing really grotesque, awful, disgusting things, things that turned him off completely, in an effort to associate Logan with revulsion. It didn’t work. In the midst of all the focused meditative work, little images from his dreams kept sneaking in, and the more he tried not to think about it, the more he thought about it, until he finally had to stop trying not to think about it at all, for fear that accidentally thinking about it would leave him with an unmistakable hard on for his first class of the day.

By lunch time that day, Scott had decided that the best solution to his problem was to take away the source of the discomfort – Logan. The man was bound to leave any minute now anyway, so what did it matter? It was simply a question of how to drive Logan out the door, and how hard could that be?

By supper time, he’d come upon the perfect plan – it would drive Logan away forever, and get Charles off his back at the same time. He was going to tell Logan that he’d fallen hopelessly in love with him, and that he couldn’t stop dreaming about being in his arms. Logan was straighter than a ruler-edge; added to this was the fact that he *hated* Scott, detested him in fact, *loathed* him… it was perfect. Scott would come on to Logan, Logan would head for the hills, and Charles would be appeased because Scott had been honest about his true feelings. Then, with Logan gone, whatever aberration was going on in Scott’s libido would sort itself out, and he could get back to missing Jeannie and imagining her when he jerked off in the dark of night. Perfect.

***

The next night, Scott reveled in his dreams. Why not? The problem would soon be solved. The truth about his attraction to Logan would be his Secret Santa gift to the man, and Logan would vanish without a trace after that, so there was no point in fretting about it until after Christmas. Thus, with permission, Scott gave himself over to his desires, sweating and moaning through a pleasure filled night full of sordid dreams and shadowy acts. He woke in the morning, sticky with come, with a smile on his face.

***

Finally, Christmas Eve arrived. The entire house was buzzing with excitement as, one by one, the Secret Santa presents appeared, ready to opened first thing the next morning. There was a steady stream of children trooping into the dining room, checking and re-checking the tree. As soon as one discovered his or her present, they would squeal with delight, swooping down to pick it up and shake it, smell it, weigh it and otherwise try to guess what it was. Barry, a thin young man with X-ray vision, was ‘disappointed’ (but secretly delighted) to find out that whoever had picked his name had thought to wrap his present first in a lead apron, borrowed from the medi-lab, so he couldn’t see through it.

Soon, the space below the tree was packed with presents, and they had spilled out onto the floor, piled up on the nearest table. It was going to be a splendid Christmas. Kids were laughing and yelling, racing around the dining room, hopped up on sugar from hot chocolate and candy canes. “Can we open them now?” they kept asking, trying all sorts of arguments about how ‘at home, we always opened our presents on Christmas eve’ in order to win the teachers over. Storm, however, was in charge, and she was strong in the face of adversity. The answer was firmly ‘no’.

Logan wandered in around ten p.m. and plopped his present down. Scott found his eyes followed the man as he turned and walked toward the cafeteria bar to pour himself a cup of coffee. Logan’s thighs were lean and muscular, leading up to a firm ass and a tight waist, which opened into a masculine chest and broad shoulders. Scott let his gaze wander up and down, abandoning himself to his lust.

“Huh,” Logan suddenly said, looking a bit surprised. He was watching Scott with his head cocked to one side, as though he’d been sniffing.

Shit! Scott realized belatedly that he was aroused, that he had been aroused for the last few minutes, and that Logan could sense this from his smell. He blushed, ducking his head, and was about to leave when a little voice in his brain piped up, ‘why bother? It fits into the plan perfectly. So what if he’s suspicious?’ The voice had a point, Scott supposed, settling back into his chair. He gave Logan another long look, raising one eyebrow almost in challenge. Logan narrowed his eyes, but in thought rather than anger. Then, with a small shake of his head, he turned and walked out. Scott grinned – it was going to work.

***

Christmas day was chilly and clear. The sun streamed in the windows, reflecting off the snowdrifts outside. It caught the glitter on the ornaments and lit the tree up on its own, making it sparkle just as though the electric lights were plugged in. For a moment, it was a peaceful, idyllic Christmas scene… and then the kids woke up.

After that, it was a madhouse, as children came running down the stairs and tore open their presents, shrieking in delight as they realized who their Secret Santas were. Scott dutifully opened his presents – a leather bound journal from Charles Xavier, his subtle way of reminding Scott that he should pay attention to his feelings; and an equally sophisticated looking agenda for the coming year, courtesy of Kitty. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, “it’s lovely.” She smiled.

Scott turned his attention to the corner of the room, where Bobby had cornered Logan and was now hugging him with great emotion. Logan returned the hug awkwardly, patting the boy on the back. “Glad you liked it, kid,” he said gruffly. “Marie helped w’ the cover and all that.” Bobby held a home-made book in his hand, entitled ‘Offensive and Defensive Techniques Involving the Use of Ice and other Cold Weather Methods.’

“I can’t believe you came up with all these, just for me,” Bobby enthused, flipping through. Logan had provided text to explain more than one hundred moves, complete with illustrations.

Logan shrugged. “You said you wanted to fight,” he replied.

Just then, Marie called over to the young man. “Hey, Bobby, come look at this!” Logan was left alone. Scott decided now was the time to make his move.

“You haven’t opened your gifts yet,” he said slyly, pointing to the two neatly wrapped presents on the table.

Logan shrugged noncommittally. “Thought I’d save ‘em for later,” he replied.

“Oh, come on Logan. Somewhere in this room, your Secret Santa is feeling anxious about whether or not you liked your gift. You should open it so you can say thanks.”

“Alright, alright, but only ‘cause it might be a kid,” Logan replied, picking up the smaller of the two gifts. Scott leaned closer in anticipation, his heart beating a little quicker. Logan shot him a look, but said nothing as he tore the paper off.

“Woo-hoo, love poetry,” Storm remarked, looking over Logan’s shoulder as she happened to walk by. “Looks like someone’s got a crush on you, Logan. Who’s it from?”

“Never you mind,” Logan replied, but he was staring straight at Scott. Slowly, he opened the front cover of the book and lowered his eyes to read the inscription. Then he brought his gaze back up to the other man. His eyes were flinty and dark. “Let’s take a walk, Summers,” he growled. Logan got up and stalked away, not even bothering to check if Scott was following.

***

Scott did, of course, follow him out of the dining room, down the hall and into the office Logan had been using. Logan was waiting for him, arms crossed. “Is this some kinda joke?” he asked, his voice hard, when Scott entered and shut the door.

Scott regarded the other man. He was *mad*. ‘Good, it’s working,’ he thought. “What do you mean?” he said out loud.

“You wanna explain to me why a book o’ love poems that reeks to high heaven of fear and lust has got a declaration of love for me signed in the front cover – from you?” Logan voice was low, and it shot through Scott’s body like a lead bullet, dropping heat into his groin. He shivered.

“It’s true,” he replied. “I love you.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Logan replied, stalking towards the younger man.

“I’m not lying,” Scott turned on as much innocence and infatuation as he could muster. “I have feelings for you, Logan, and I can’t deny them anymore.”

Logan laughed, grabbing Scott by the shoulders. “Oh, you got feelings, alright,” he replied, grinding his hips into Scott’s, “But they ain’t associated with love.” Scott looked up at him in shock, his brain screaming that he should fight the other man off and tell him to get the fuck out, now. Xavier would order Logan to go if you told him he’d assaulted you, his mind yelled. But his body, on the other hand, was screaming out for more contact. Already his cock was rock hard, crushed against Logan’s thigh, and it was all he could do to resist rubbing himself against that leg like a desperate fool. Caught between his body’s order, ‘stay’, and his mind’s demand to ‘go’, Scott stood frozen as Logan’s mouth descended on his, claiming him. And then the decision was made.

Scott opened his mouth with a moan, letting Logan’s exploring tongue inside, and abandoned his restraint, grinding against Logan’s leg, feeling Logan’s cock hard against his own. Logan’s hands moved from his shoulders, one sliding seductively down his back while the other one reached up to tangle in his hair. Scott, in turn, wrapped his arms around Logan’s body, clinging to him, tightening their embrace. Meanwhile, the kiss had deepened, and Scott’s tongue battled with Logan’s for dominance, until finally Logan broke off and leaned back to look Scott in the eye. Both of them were panting.

“All you have to do is say ‘stop’,” Logan said.

“Fuck you,” Scott replied.

“If you insist.” Logan dived in again, working his lips down Scott’s jaw, across his neck, into the crook of his shoulder where he latched on and sucked hard. His hands divested Scott of his button up shirt before sliding down to rid the man of his pants. When Logan’s hand wrapped around his cock, Scott gasped, his legs giving way. Logan supported his weight as he backed Scott into the wall, his lips wandering down Scott’s chest. When Scott was supported against the wall, Logan fell to his knees and replaced his hand with his mouth.

“Oh god, yes,” Scott cried, his hands moving of their own volition to rest on Logan’s head. “Please, god, yes.” Logan’s mouth was divine, just the right amount of pressure, sucking and licking and creating the right hot friction, it was incredible, and Scott gasped and bit his lip because he was going to come…

Logan kept sucking until Scott’s orgasm passed. Scott came back into his body to find Logan just sitting back on his haunches, one hand resting on Scott’s ass, holding him up. When he saw that Scott was aware again, a gleam came into Logan’s eye. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and stood up, undoing his zip. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he informed Scott, and then turned him around so he was facing the wall. Scott felt something wet trickle down the cleft of his ass, followed by Logan’s sticky fingers. Then one, two, and finally three of those fingers slid inside of him, stretching him more than he could have imagined possible.

“I’ve never done this before,” he whispered, suddenly feeling scared.

“First time for everything,” Logan grunted in reply, scissoring his fingers. Then he took them away, and Scott felt the tip of an impossibly thick cock nudge his entrance. “Take a breath,” Logan instructed. Scott gulped in air. “Breath out.” He did, and as he did, Logan pushed into him, moving in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

“Oh my fucking god,” Scott gasped. His eyes watered. It burned – but it felt so good, he had never felt so full before… and then Logan moved. Scott muffled a scream.

“Did you like that?” Logan muttered in his ear, thrusting in again. Scott was overcome, he could only nod, gasping and crying. He couldn’t speak. “Good,” Logan said, apparently satisfied with this reaction. “Me too. You’re so tight, you’re so fucking good, Scott, god, yes.” The litany continued, whispered in his ear, as Logan sped up, and then finally let go of all control, slamming into the slender man with wild abandon. “Fuck yes,” he finished, coming. Scott felt the hot liquid shoot up inside him. Logan’s weight pressed against him as the man slumped, energy spent from the orgasm, but Scott didn’t move. Finally, Logan pushed against the wall and stood up, carefully easing out of the other man. Scott winced.

“It’ll hurt tomorrow,” Logan commented, using a bandana to wipe himself off. He turned Scott around gently and wiped the other man clean. “Get dressed, it’s almost lunch time,” he finished.

Scott complied, feeling shaky and disoriented. When he’d finished, he looked up. Logan was sitting on the desk, watching him. “I’m not gay,” he said defensively.

“Neither am I,” Logan replied.

“But…”

“It’s just sex, Scott. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve been smelling desire on you for weeks. It’s only in the last few days I realized it was directed at me. If you want to fuck, just ask – you don’t need love poetry with me, okay?”

“Logan…” Scott floundered. How could he possibly explain the conflict within him? It was perfectly okay for Logan to say it was just sex. He was the one that would leave any minute now. Scott was the one who had to stay, had to be left. The one who’d never done anything like this before. His face flushed; he was confused and embarrassed, and he didn’t know what to say.

Logan stood up and came over. To Scott’s surprise, he found himself wrapped in a gentle embrace. “Don’t, Scott. Don’t worry about it. Don’t try to figure it all out. Just let yourself enjoy something for once, okay?”

“For as long as it lasts, right?” Scott couldn’t help the bitter resignation in his voice.

Logan surprised him again. He laughed. Squeezing the other man tight for a moment, and then letting him go, Logan looked straight into Scott’s eyes. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, Summers, you’re stuck with me. Merry Christmas.” And with that, he turned on his heel, still chuckling, and strode out of the room.

Scott collapsed against the desk, feeling breathless. Not going anywhere. Logan had decided to stay at the mansion. He knew the thought should have him boiling over in anger, but instead the warmth he felt was positive, kind of a glowing feeling around his heart. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered back.

Outside, the sun glinted off the pristine snow banks. Laughing children could be heard playing. It was the perfect Christmas Day.

***

END

REALISTIC SHOW

Now and Again - Michael Wiseman/Doctor Morris

Author: Cassandra
Title: The One Wiseman
Date: December 11th
Fandom: Now and Again/Realistic
Pairing: Michael Wiseman/Dr. Morris
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wiseman has had enough
Disclaimer: I don't own Wiseman or Morris
Feedback address: zinelady@hotmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Warning for fantasized rape and bondage/domination
Beta: Janice

The One Wiseman
By Cassandra

"Mr. Wiseman. Mr. Wiseman," an annoyingly cheerful voice pulled Michael Wiseman out of the wonderful fantasy he had been dreaming. He had been in bed with his wife, kissing her, running his hands all over her body, squeezing those wondrous breasts of hers. He had just been ready to enter her body when cheerful singing had awaked him. Cheerful Christmas carols in a bass voice. We Three Kings, indeed!

"Damn it, Doc!" Michael Wiseman complained bitterly. "Why couldn't you just let me sleep a while longer?"

"Mr. Wiseman, need I remind you of the schedule?" Dr. Theodore Morris asked. "Even though it's Christmas morning, you still need to keep to the schedule."

"Schedule? Would you like me to tell you what I think of your schedule?"

"Actually, no. I would 'like' you to take your shower, then eat breakfast, so we can get started."

"Can I at least have a little privacy?" Michael was acutely aware of his state of arousal. Having Doc standing there, staring at him wasn't helping any.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Wiseman?"

*Only the fact that I have a hard-on that could put a porno star to shame* "No, no problem, Doc. I'd just like to be able to take a shower on my own. I'm a little shy."

"Oh, I see," Dr. Morris said, nodding his head. "Very well, I'll leave you to your shower, then. You're cereal will be ready when you get out."

"Oh, joy," Michael muttered under his breath. As soon as Dr. Morris left the room, he adjusted himself inside his pajama pants and got out of the bed. He was just turning when Dr. Morris came back into the room.

"Mr. Wiseman..." Doc stopped in mid-sentence as he took in Michael's appearance.

Michael followed the other man's eyes down and saw that the front of his pants was tented. Michael could feel himself blushing as Doc continued to stare at his crotch. *My god, had the man never seen an erection before?* He forced himself not to move to cover himself.

*He didn't ask for any of this! Sure, he had an erection. He was a man. What next? Would Doc want to study his physical response to stimuli?* He had visions of being strapped in a chair with electrodes attached to his cock and being forced to watch dirty movies. He could imagine Dr. Morris taking readings. 'Let's see, Mr. Wiseman, it seems that pictures of two women having sex turns you on more than one woman and one man. You seemed to be attracted to strong authority figures. Could you tell me something of your relationship to your mother?'

*Fuck this!* He was going into that shower and Doc could fuck himself or his mother as far as he was concerned.

He took a deep breath to calm himself enough to speak then looked Dr. Morris in the eye. The darkness of the doctor's complexion prevented him from telling if the doctor was embarrassed.

"What do you want that can't wait until I got out of the shower?" The words were terse.

"Ah...n-nothing that can't wait," the normally articulate doctor stuttered. "I'll just leave you alone," he said quickly, before turning and leaving the room.

"Damn it!" Michael swore. His rage left a bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn't care if the doctor was hurt or embarrassed. He was the injured party here. He wasn't allowed to see his wife or daughter. His best friend thought that Michael Wiseman was crazy and his wife hated his guts. It wasn't his fault he died only to wake up in a specially constructed body that Dr. Morris considered his own personal property. It was as bad as being a slave.

Taking another deep breath, he tore off his top, not caring that two buttons popped off. *Let the wonderfully talented Dr. Morris sew them on*. He walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, then stripped off his pants. His erection jerked free. Stepping into the hot water, he grabbed the *carefully selected* soap and washed his body briefly. Then with a soapy hand, he grabbed his cock and stroked himself. *Ah, that felt good!* Leaning back against the shower wall, angling himself so that the water hit the top of his thighs, he closed his eyes and tried to bring the vision of his wife to mind.

He tried to remember the dream, but it hovered just at the corner of his consciousness. He remembered that it had been erotic and his wife had a starring role. They were lying in front of a roaring fire on a bearskin rug. He tried to see his wife, but his anger at Dr. Morris was getting in the way. *Damn him!* Now he was invading his fantasies.

At that thought, Michael saw Doc stripped of all of his clothes, tied face down on an examining table in the testing room. His legs were spread apart enough that Michael could see the shadow of Doc's cock and balls trapped under him. He was trying to free himself, his struggles causing the muscles in his arms and back to bunch in attractive bundles. His mouth was gagged. *Hmm, this has possibilities.*

Lying on the instrument table was a paddle, just perfect for Michael's uses. He walked over and picked it up. Testing it against his hand, he was pleased with the loud *smack*, smiling when it startled the doc. He went to the head of the bed and pulled up the doc's head by his close cropped hair. The eyes focused on him, frightened. He looked younger, less intimidating without the glasses. The lack of clothes might have had something to do with that too, he supposed.

"This is going to hurt you, more than it is me," Michael said, before turning back to look at the tempting target of doc's tight ass. He lifted the paddle and brought it down on the left cheek. Doc jumped and tightened his muscles, but Michael immediately smacked the other cheek. He punished his buttocks for all of the orders, restrictions, most of all for denying him his wife. He hit him again and again, pausing to drink from a can of cold beer that had appeared on the table.

Turning back to the bound man, he noticed that Doc's cock was more prominent between his legs. *So the doc gets off on pain. Who would have thought it?* He hit him a couple more times with the paddle, then discarded it back on the table. He was definitely enjoying himself. It was amazing how discipline could be a cathartic. Looking down at his own cock, he saw that he was painfully hard. He stroked himself a few times, then turned back to the examining table.

Putting his hand on Doc's butt, he could feel the heat radiating off the punished flesh. He massaged the globes then scratched lightly over the skin. He heard and felt the muffled hissing inhalation from the other man. Spreading the two cheeks, Michael investigated the small pucker hidden there. *Hmm, if I can't have my wife...maybe I can fuck the good doc.*

He looked at the table and saw a bottle of oil. Perfect. He popped the cap off and poured some onto his fingers. He once again exposed Doc's anus, then inserted a slick finger. *It was so tight and hot!* The prone man at first arched up, then down, trying to escape the invasion, but Michael denied him. Another finger joined the first and he slowly stretched the circular muscle. He probed deeper, trying to find that spot, then finally reaching it. He rubbed it and the results were instantaneous: a deep moan, then Doc was arching back toward him. He thrust in and out with his fingers, hitting the spot with each thrust.

Doc moaned again when he removed his fingers. He poured some more oil over his cock, spreading it thickly. *Ah, that felt so good.* He thought about just continuing stroking himself, but stopped. He wanted to be enveloped in that warm tightness. He placed the blunt tip of his cock against that small pucker and pushed, encasing himself in heaven. He pulled back out and pushed his way in deeper, angling his way so that he hit the prostate gland on each inward thrust. He saw that his movements pressed doc's hard cock against the table.

Grabbing onto Doc's hips, he guided his movements. *This was so good! He couldn't last much longer*. The muscles squeezed him as Doc climaxed, sending him over the top. He thrust a few more times, then the world went blank as he climaxed.

He came back to himself, the water pounding down on him washing away the semen down the drain. He waited until the momentary weakness passed, then turned off the water. Grabbing the towel, he wiped off the water. He dressed slowly, taking his time. He felt both better and worse. What did he have to look forward to? Years of jacking off in the shower? What kind of man had he become? The kind that fantasized about raping a man?

Breakfast was ready for him when he got out of the bathroom. No sign of the doctor. Oatmeal. Orange juice. Toast with fruit. No butter. How totally bland.

He was finishing his juice when the doctor returned, carrying a bag.

"There you are," Michael said. "I was wondering where you got to."

"I had to go out," Dr. Morris said. He held out the bag. "I got this for you."

"What is it?" Michael asked, opening it up to reveal a jelly donut and coffee. He looked at the doctor in shock.

"One donut and a cup of coffee is not going to hurt. It's Christmas. Just don't expect it every morning. I have too much invested to let that body 'go to pot'."

Michael smiled and grabbed the donut. He took a huge bite, then fished out the coffee. He didn't even mind that it wasn't that hot any more. It tasted like ambrosia to him.

"Mr. Wiseman," Dr. Morris said while Michael was busy eating. "I wanted to apologize. Sometime I forget that you're human with human emotions. I'll try to remember not to let my enthusiasm for research get away from me. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Doc," Michael said, munching on the last of the donut. "Do you think I could get another donut for New Years?"

END

SCIENCE FICTION

Star Trek: TNG - Picard/Q

The Anthropology of Love by Nick (Part 1 of 1)

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Shiiloe
Title: One Winter Night
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: HP/SS
Summary: One winter night, Severus Snape gets his Christmas wish.
Show: Harry Potter
Date of publication: December 11, 2004
Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters belong to an evil sorceress who has put us all under a spell, compelling us to play in her universe
Feedback address: Shiiloe@gmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: This is my first time ever writing for something like this so please be gentle with my virgin fanfic ego ;)
Beta: Huggles to my beta’s, my best friend Jamie and my husband Craig. Jamie especially was great with input, not being afraid to tell me exactly what she thought of everything. Thanks so much, Chickypooh :D

One Winter Night

The scent of mulling spices surrounded him as he leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling his lover’s mouth begin to nibble and lick the area just below his belly button. He let his breathing slow as he tried to calm himself enough to just enjoy the sensation of the warm, moist mouth against his skin, the winter chill making the sensation all that more delicious. Keeping his eyes closed, he pictured the object of his affections gazing up at him, emerald eyes smoky with lust.

Just the image of those eyes made his body practically melt into the bed. He could see the passion in those eyes…the trust. The warm mouth moved its way down his body and Severus had to force himself not to reach down to run his fingers through messy black hair, knowing it would be far better just to stay lying back, relishing the sensations his body was currently experiencing. He felt a hand wrap around his hardening length as that devilish mouth begin to nibble at the deliriously sensitive spot on the inside of his thigh. He wanted desperately to open his eyes, to look down at his beloved and watch as the young man took his pulsing cock into his mouth. But he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t look. He just gripped the cool sheets on either side of his body while delighting in the tiny vibrations from his tormentor moaning around his shaft. He could see those lips clearly in his mind. He remembered looking at them years ago during Potions class. Potter would be sitting there working intently on a potion, and Snape would study his lips. They were always slightly chapped and Severus would sit there staring, willing Harry to lick the dryness away so he could catch a glimpse of that velvety tongue.

The Potion’s Master had a balm for the Quidditch players, to keep their lips from drying out, of course. But he never offered it to Harry. He would much rather sit there in class and imagine licking the dryness away for him. Harry hadn’t been on a Quidditch team for years now, though, and the lips currently wrapped around his manhood were soft and supple. He took another deep breath, which caught in his throat as he felt his entire length being taken into that inviting mouth, his partner’s throat constricting involuntarily at the intrusion. As he felt his cock slowly being drawn out of his partner’s mouth, he felt the firm pressure of that luscious tongue pressing against the underside of his erection, encouraging the warm tingle that he knew was the approach of his inevitable orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let the warmth take him over, quickening his breath and his heartbeat. Closer…closer… hot mouth stroking its way up and down his throbbing cock, Severus threw his head from