December 24

CRIME:

Sentinel: Jim/Blair

Author: Angelee
Title: Three Kittens, A Sentinel and a Reluctant Guide
Date: December 24, 2004
Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Rating: NC-17
Summary: See title.
Disclaimer: Heh, right!
Feedback address: angelee79912@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Merry Christmas
Beta: By my sister Anna. All final errors are mine-with apologies.

Three Kittens, A Sentinel and a Reluctant Guide

“Shit.” Blair cussed violently. He was very wet, very cold and very, very hungry. Above all he was damn tired. Of everything. Especially the running. Especially the running right before the holidays. Making it all that much worse.

They were after him yet again. He just couldn’t get a break in his fight for freedom. The Sentinels were bound and determined in making him theirs. Didn’t matter which Sentinel. It just came down to whoever got to him first. Something he would never allow to happen.

Blair didn’t want to belong to any Sentinel. He was his own person and was determined to remain that way.

He huddled against the wall shivering. The wall did little to keep the violently pummeling rain from hitting him dead on. But he needed the break. He’d risk taking it, just long enough to catch his breath and then he would move on.

The rain seemed to slow down slightly. That’s when he heard it. A soft sort of mewing. At least that’s what he though he heard.

He shook the rain from his curly hair as he looked around. There. Something behind the big trash dumpster.

Kneeling in front of a wet cardboard box he carefully opened it. His blue eyes widened in surprised.

Inside the box were three tiny kittens. Just as wet, just as cold as him and shivering just as violently. The cardboard box was soaked by the rain that had not stopped in three days offering no protection whatsoever.

“Oh, Goddess. You poor little things.” He whispered to them.

Quickly taking them out of the box he put them inside his jacket. It was just as wet as the rest of him but, he hoped his body heat would at least keep them warm.

A touch on his shoulder made him turn violently. “Easy there, Chief. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Back the fuck off then.” Blair hissed, eyeing the tall, blue eyed man inches from him and moving closer. Knowing instinctively he faced a Sentinel.

The man raised his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right. Why then have you been chasing me?” Blair asked warily, backing away slowly. Realizing to late he was trapped. The tall man blocking the only way out.

“I’m a Sentinel.”

“No shit.”

The man followed as Blair backed away. “I’ve been following you.”

“I know that, asshole.”

The light blue eyes flashed. “Are you always so rude?”

“Look, you’re the reason that I’m wet, cold and really hungry. Try being in my shoes and lets see if you’d be all that friendly.”

“I guess your right.”

“Damn straight. All my money’s been frozen so I couldn’t even buy an Egg McMuffin and coffee if I wanted. There are police waiting at my apartment so I can’t even go home. And for what? I’ll tell you for what. For my pheromones. That’s for what. Because I smell good to you assholes.”

“That’s not the only reason.” The man told him softly.

“No then what else? Please enlighten me.” Blair said sarcastically.

“Without what your body produces naturally we can not live. We don’t create pheromones on our own.”

“Do you need to chase those that do like wild animals?”

The man moved closer. “Guides do not come willingly to the Sentinel. We must chase.”

Blair scoffed. “Yeah, right. You just like destroying lives.”

The man repeated continuing as if he hadn’t heard Blair. “It is breed into all Guides. They must run. Sentinels must chase. To catch a Guide is to prove worthy of them.”

“Well you’re not.” Blair replied, trying to move passed the tall broad shoulder man.

He was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. “How do you know? You don‘t even know me” He was told quietly.

Blair shrugged the hand off. “I don’t want to know you.”

“Why?” Blue eyes looked solemnly into him.

“Because I don’t want to be chased any more. I’m real tired of being chased. I want to go home. I want to get out of these wet clothes. I want to get something hot to drink and something to eat. I’m starving.” Blair said wearily.

“I can provide some of what you want. Please Blair, come home with me.”

Blair didn’t even bother to ask how the man knew his name. The Sentinel Group had probably investigated him so well they knew his grades in kindergarten.

“Why the fuck should I?”

“Because you’re tired, wet and hungry.”

Blair sighed sadly. “Yeah, I am. Alright, I’ll go with you, but don’t expect anything else. Got it?”

The tall man smiled at him brilliantly. “Got it. Come, my home is just down the block.”

Blair was led into a spacious two story loft. It was beautiful if a bit sparse. “Who does your decorating. Boring R Us?” He said unkindly.

The man looked around. “Hmm, yes. My name by the way is Jim Ellison if your wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” Yes, Blair knew he was being rude. But at the moment he was weary to his bones and really, really tired. He ached all over. Movement inside his jacket reminded Blair of other things besides himself and being rude to a really handsome Sentinel. At the moment he might be many things, but blind wasn’t one of them. “Hey, you got a spare towel?”

“Yes, let me get it for you.”

Jim watched as Blair undid his jacket. “Don’t get excited there, Bud. I’m not taking the jacket off for you.” He told the fascinated Sentinel.

“I didn’t think you were.” Jim replied as Blair very carefully pulled the kittens out and laid them gently on the towel.

Jim moved closer. “Where did you find them?”

“In back of the trash dumpster. I stopped to catch my breath and I heard a noise and there they were.”

“They’re cute.”

“Yeah, huh?” Blair replied, eyeing the three little kittens. One was black with white splotches, another was white with black splotches and the last was gray with splotches of black and white. All three had blue eyes.

“I bet they’re hungry. Got milk?”

“Yes.” Jim replied hurrying into the kitchen.

While Jim warmed the milk Blair gently dried the kittens. Checking them for gender and for any assorted inhabitants they might be carrying.

As Jim walked back toward the kitchen table with a bowl of warmed milk. “Well what we have here is two boys and a girl. And they are free of ticks, fleas and other assorted nasties.” He told him.

Jim placed the bowl down on the table. “That’s good.” Watching as the three kittens rushed over toward it.

“They’re really hungry.” Blair told Jim, smiling as they delicately lapped at the warm milk.

“Yes. As are you. Let me get you some dry clothes and you can shower to warm up. Then I’ll get you something to eat.” Jim told Blair eyeing the shivering Guide.

Coming back into the room Jim handed Blair a pair of black warm-ups. “Here you are. The shower is through that door.”

“Thank-you.” Blair responded politely enough. “I’ll be right back. Don’t hurt the kittens. They’re mine.”

“I’m a Sentinel. Not a monster.”

“Is there a difference?” Blair replied, as he made his way to the shower. Not seeing the hurt blue eyes that followed him.

When he came out Jim had grilled cheese sandwiches and had chicken noodle soup all ready for him. “Oh, god-I’m starved.” Blair said, attacking the food as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Which he hadn’t.

Finally full he pushed the empty bowl away. “Where are the kittens?”

Jim gave him a bittersweet smile. “They’re fine. I found a box and an old blanket. They’re asleep by the fireplace. See I’m not such a monster.”

Blair sighed softly. “Okay, I apologize for my comment. It was out of line. But how would you like not being able to get into your own home through no fault of your own? Not be able to access money, money you know you have? Be wet, half-starved and running for your life and have all this happen to you during the holidays? You wouldn’t be in the best of moods either.”

“I know, Blair. And I am sorry about that. But that was not my idea. That blame falls on the Sentinel Protective Group. I had nothing to with that.”

“I don’t understand why you have to be chasing after Guides in the first place.”

Jim sighed softly. “I already told you that. It’s sort of a game of hide and seek, if you will.”

Blair looked at the Sentinel. “We’ll I don’t want to play. I’d like to take my kittens and myself home and live my life as I want.”

“I’m sorry, Blair.”

“I bet you are.” The curly haired man said bitterly.

“You can still live your life as you want.”

“But with you in it?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“But why?” Jim asked, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

“Truth be told, Sentinel. I don’t want you.” Blair said cruelly.

“Well, I want you.”

Blair looked at the man sitting across from him. “Then we are at an impasse.”

Jim’s finger chased an imaginary crumb across the table. “Yes.”

“Let me go.” Blair pleaded.

“Can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I need you.” Jim replied baldly.

“Sorry.”

“Please, Blair.”

“No.”

Jim reached out a trembling hand. “Please. Bond me. It won’t hurt. I promise you it won’t hurt.” He pleaded softly.

Blair recoiled. “No.”

“Please, Blair.”

“No.”

“Perhaps if you slept on it. You’re tired.”

“My answer will be the same. Today, tomorrow, day after. You will always get the same answer. No. No. No.”

Solemn blue eyes looked at him. “You don’t really have a choice. You will be mine.”

“When hell freezes over.”

Jim gave him a tight smile. “No, Blair. It will be a lot sooner than that.”

“Says you?”

“Says me.”

Blair sighed. “I don’t want you. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

“I need you.” Jim replied as if it answered it all.

“And I’d rather be dead.”

“Are you saying that you’d kill yourself rather than bond me?” Jim asked horrified.

Blair met his eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Jim sighed softly. “Why won’t you give this a chance? Give me a chance?”

“How many times do I have to say it? How many different ways? I don’t want to be a Guide and I don’t want you.”

Silence filled the loft for many moments before Jim spoke again. “Alright how about we make a deal. Stay with me through the holidays, see if I can’t change your mind. If that doesn’t work I’ll help you escape. Set you up somewhere where they’ve never heard of Sentinels and Guides.”

“Why would you do that?” Blair asked suspiciously.

Jim gave him a tight smile. “Selfish reasons. If I can’t have you, then no one will.”

Blair looked at Jim, blue eyes narrowing. “You are a strange man, Jim Ellison. Alright, I accept your deal.”

The Sentinel gave him a blinding smile. “Thank-you, Blair.”

“Don’t thank me. I’ve only agree to stay over the holidays nothing more.”

“For now that’s enough.”

************************************************************************


Because Blair had gotten soaked to the skin in his fight for freedom he caught a cold. A really bad cold.

“I’m telling you I on’t eed a octor.” Blair wheezed at the Sentinel as Jim looked down at him worriedly. Jim had turned a spare room on the first floor of the loft into a bedroom for his reluctant Guide. Blair now lay on the futon he used as a bed shivering uncontrollably under four quilts.

“Blair, your running a temp of 102. I think you need a Doctor to give you some antibiotics.”

“No.”

“Blair, please.”

“No, damn you.”

Jim’s eyes flashed angrily. “Don’t curse at me. I’m only trying to help.”

Blair sighed wearily. “I know. I’m sorry.” He blew his nose loudly into a tissue. Making Jim cringe. “I just don’t feel good and I don’t want to be fussed over. I want to die in peace.”

“I know you don’t feel good, you’re sick and you need to see a doctor. Let me call one in from the Sentinel Center.”

Blair buried himself deeper into the blankets. “I’d rather die.”

“Blair, please.”

A curly head peeked out from the edge of the blankets. “Don’t fuss. Did you remember to feed the kittens?”

“Yes. How about if I fixed you some tea.”

“Fine. Tea.” Blair replied tiredly, burying himself back under the quilts. Today was Christmas Eve and he felt like shit. Worse than, actually. He sighed unhappily as he buried himself deeper. He just wished he could get warm.

Jim returned minutes later with a mug filled with a brand of tea Blair seemed to prefer. After a week he was already getting to know his reluctant Guide’s preferences. “Here you go, buddy.”

“Good. Drink it for me.”

“What you expect to get the benefits by osmosis?”

“Yup. That way I don’t have to get up.”

Jim chucked softly. “Come on sit up. I’ll help.”

The Sentinel held the mug steady for Blair to drink. The curly-headed man resting wearily against Jim as he drank the hot liquid gratefully.

After a minute or so he noticed that the Sentinel was sniffing his hair. “What are you doing?”

Jim started guiltily. “N…nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. Were you sniffing my hair?”

“Hmm, no?”

“Yes, you were, admitted it. You were trying to take advantage of a sick man.” Blair accused.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, alright I was sniffing your hair.” He said sheepishly.

“You promised not to take advantage of me and me being sick and all.” Blair sneezed into another tissue. “You suck. You know that.”

Jim sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. But you smell good.”

“And that gives you the right to sniff my hair?”

“Yes?”

Blair pulled away slightly. “Oh, you really suck.”

“It was just a little sniff. It wasn’t even a big sniff.”

“Oh, like that matters.”

“It does. Now if I wanted to sniff big I would have done this.” Jim said, pushing the quilts out of the way. Laying Blair flat against the futon he maneuvered his big body on top. Burying his face in Blair’s neck he began snuffing happily.

The curly haired man allowed it, for now. “Well, that’s interesting. And what pray tell is that suppose to accomplish?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a lot out of it.” Jim replied, warm breath gently tickling Blair’s neck.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s getting off on this.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jim replied shakily.

“You’re not bonding to me are you?”

Blair felt Jim shake his head against his neck. “No. No, absolutely not.” He denied hurriedly.

Blair frowned up at the ceiling. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the truth?”

“I am, Blair. Really I am.” Jim replied adamantly. “Don’t you believe me?”

“No.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, I bet. You wanna get off? You weigh a ton.”

Jim made himself more comfortable on top of Blair. “Not yet. A few more minutes, please.”

Blair sighed. “You really suck, you know that, All right a few more minutes.”

Jim looked up at him giving him the goofiest grin Blair had ever seen. “Thank-you, Blair.” And he sounded funny too.

The curly-haired man frown at him. “Did you get into the liquor cabinet while I’ve been at death’s door?”

“Huh?” The Sentinel asked, contently nuzzling Blair’s neck with his nose.

“Look at me.” Blair demanded. The Sentinel did. Jim’s blue eyes were glazed and there it was again, that goofy grin. “You are. You’re drunk.” He accused angrily.

“I…I’m not d…drunk. J…just high on y…you.” Jim slurred.

“What?”

“P…pheromones. High on your pheromones.”

Blair tired to wiggle free from under the heavy Sentinel. “I can’t believe this. I just cannot believe this. You promised not to bond me and you went and did it anyway.” He told him angrily, unable to get free.

“N…no, Blair. Didn’t bond to you. Not yet Can’t. Not without your permission.” Jim said, taking a huge whiff of Blair’s spicy scent. Suddenly with a small moan his considerable bulk went totally limp.

“Great. Just great.” Blair said, looking down at Jim who now lay against his chest, snoring softly. “You suck.” He told the top of the Sentinel’s head.

Anger didn’t any good, besides the Sentinel was very warm and Blair had finally stopped shivering. Being cold had been a part of Blair’s life for so long he though he would never get or be warm again. Pulling the quilts up over them he quickly followed Jim into sleep.

Much later he woke to find the Sentinel still on top of him, snoring softly. He sighed unhappily. So this is what his life had become? A Sentinel’s pillow and drug of choice? How did his life turn out this way? Getting a Sentinel high just cause he sniffed his neck. His life sucked.

Jim moved slowly as he woke. “Oh, my head.” He complained softly.

“Serves you right. That’s what you get for taking advantage of a sick man. That’s how the Goddess punishes Sentinels that suck.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Blair. Really I didn’t. You just smelled so good. I guess I over did it.”

“Hmm, get off. I got to go to the bathroom and check on the kittens.”

Jim moaned pitifully. “Not yet. Let me rest here for a minute then I’ll move.”

Blair sighed. “Well hurry up. I haven’t got all day.” He replied gruffly. “You suck. You really suck. Did I tell you that? That you suck?”

“Yes, I do believe you mentioned it a time or two.” Jim said from somewhere near Blair’s bellybutton where he’d maneuvered himself. Head resting very comfortable against the Guide’s warm tummy.

“Good. Just so you know that you suck.”

“Okay. Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jim lifted Blair’s warm-up top to rub his face against Blair’s soft skin. Oddly surprised that Blair allowed it. “Hmm. Blair?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m, sorry.”

“You are?” Blair was unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“Yeah, I am. I’m sorry you hate me. I’m sorry I’m a Sentinel and I’m really sorry you don’t want to be my Guide.” Jim sniffed wetly.

“Oh, Goddess. You’re not going to do the woe-is-me bit are you?”

“Yup, sorry.” Tear-filled eyes looked up at him from under the quilts. Blair thought Jim looked kinda cute like that. Kinda warm and fuzzy-Sentinel style.

He ran a finger down Jim’s cheek. “Look, I told you I didn’t hate you. Come up here.”

“Then why won’t you bond me? And you don’t even like me touching the kittens.” Jim sad sadly.

“I never said you couldn’t touch the kittens.”

Jim laid his head on Blair’s shoulder. “You haven’t said I couldn’t touch them, but every time I get near them you look at me like I’m going to grab them and cook them up for supper or something equally bad.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. Your big blue eyes go really wide and you watch every step I take when I’m around them. I wouldn’t hurt them any more than I would hurt you.” Jim said woefully, tears in his voice. “I didn’t hurt them when they stared climbing up my legs did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” Blair replied, remembering the incident that had happened two days ago. All three kittens-still unnamed had taken a real liking to the Sentinel and would run to him whenever Jim came into the room. They’d started to climb his legs while he’d been trying to talk to an uncooperative Blair.

Jim had suddenly become very still getting a bemused look on his face. Blair had leaned over from where he sat at the kitchen table to see the kittens slowly crawling up the Sentinel’s legs like he was a climbing post-all three of them.

Jim had held still even though those tiny little claws had to hurt sensitive Sentinel skin. Gently pulling them free from his pants when they’d reached arms height, he’d gently stroked their soft fur before setting them carefully back down on the floor.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt them or me.”

Jim sniffed again. “No I wouldn’t.”

“You normally aren’t such a cry baby are you?”

“No. Normally I’m a real macho type of guy, but right now I’m needy and slightly hungover.”

“Slightly?”

“Hmm, quite a bit.”

Blair rolled his eyes. “You’re something else, you do realize that?”

“Yup.”

“You did try and make it real nice for the kittens and me. Fixed me up a really nice room and all. Even trying to make it a good Christmas even thought I don’t want to be here. It really is a nice tree. I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.” Blair said regretfully.

“Yup.”

“I do appreciate everything you‘ve done.”

“Yup.”

“Not going to give an inch are you?” Blair asked, smiling at the top of Jim’s head.

“Not if it means I have to get up. You may not want to give me what I need, but you’re releasing pheromones anyway and it feels really good. Not as good as if you bonded me and were releasing everything that I needed, but it’s enough to keep me content if not happy.”

“Are you trying to guilt me into bonding with you?”

“N…no.” Jim said weepily. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, for Goddess sakes. Alright I’ll bond you.” Blair exclaimed in exasperation.

Jim’s head popped up. “You will?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, yes. Stop soaking my shirt now.”

The Sentinel wiped furiously at Blair’s sweatshirt. “Sorry. Sorry. Now?” He asked sitting up.

“I suppose.” Blair replied reluctantly.

Disappointment clouded Jim eyes which had been heartbreakingly hopeful up until then. “I don’t want to push you into anything.” He said mournfully.

Blair rolled his eyes at the Sentinel. “Oh, quit being such a baby. I said I’d bond you and I will.”

“Y…you don’t even like me.” Jim replied, lower lip trembling.

Blair sighed. “Oh, give me a break and save me from over-emotional Sentinels coming down from a pheromone high. Come here you.” He told Jim, opening his arms wide.

Jim went sobbing hopelessly against Blair’s neck. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Blair comforted the distraught Sentinel the best he could. “Shh, it’s okay. Tell me what we need to do to bond.”

“Bond me.”

“I know that you dork.” Blair said impatiently. “How do we do it?”

“You called me a dork.” Jim said, tears starting full force once again.

Blair sighed heavily. “Damn. Me and my big mouth. By the time this is all done with I’ll be drowned. Come on Jim tell me what we have to do. Don’t you want to bond with me?” He asked coaxingly.

“Yes.”

“Then come on. Bond with me.” He coaxed softly. “I know you don’t feel well, but maybe once we’ve bonded you’ll feel lots better. I feel better having you here. My cold is nowhere near as bad.”

“It’s an aftereffects of the bonding that’s started. I take what I need from you and give you something back in return.”

“Yeah, like?”

Jim rubbed his face against Blair’s swearshirt, making the curly-haired man crinkle his nose at what the Sentinel had possibly just spread all over it. “Good health and an extraordinary long life.”

“And you? What do you get out of the bond and the use of my pheromones?”

“My senses will come online completely and stay online. Being around you once we bond will keep them working right and I’ll have no more zones.”

“Zone?” Blair replied, listening intently as the more under control Sentinel talked to him. Gently rubbing Jim’s broad back soothingly.

“Where a Sentinel focuses to intently on just one sense. Become entangled in if you will, unable to find our way out. We forget to breathe and simply freeze in place. If we are in a job that requires our complete attention it can be deadly.”

“I bet.”

Jim turned boodshot eyes toward Blair. “Are you sure you want to bond with me, Blair? I can still keep my word to you. Find you a place where the word Guide isn’t even in the dictionary.”

“And what about you?” Blair asked his solemnly.

“I’ll be alright.” Jim said vaguely.

Something Blair didn’t believe even a little bit. “You’ve been telling me the truth up till now. Don’t start lying to me now. What will happen to you if I were to pack up my kittens and me and simply walk out the door?”

“There’s nothing simple about it, I will die.” Jim told him baldly.

Blair felt a coldness course through his veins, leaving him speechless. It was something he’d never felt before in his life and did not want to ever feel again

Jim was not a bad person. He’d been good to the kittens and him this last week. Had even gotten the kittens a Christmas present. The biggest, padded kitty playground Blair had ever seen. It sat under the tree with a huge bow on it waiting for Christmas Day. Blair frowned. Which was today. They’d sleep though Christmas Eve.

Jim really wasn’t a bad person. He seemed to be kind, generous and understanding. He’d have to be to put up with the bullshit Blair had been putting the Sentinel through for the past week.

“Tell me about the bond?”

“Once the bond is in place it is for life. You will be mine and I will be yours in all ways.” Jim replied, rubbing his face tiredly agains the side of Blair’s neck.

“In all ways?” Blair asked, kissing Jim’s nose.

The Sentinel sighed, closing his eyes. “Financially, spiritually, bodily.” He said wearily.

“Sexually?”

“Yes. The bond will make it impossible to be with anyone else.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Jim gave Blair a tiny smile. “You are what I need to live and it‘s not just because you‘re a Guide. You’ve only been here a week and you’re already my heart and soul. I love you. The loft has never been filled with such warmth and laughter not even when I was married. And that was with you not even wanting to be here.” The Sentinel’s voice held amazement. “I can only imagine what this place would be like if you were here willingly. My heart aches for you, Blair. For what I could have with you.”

“Don’t let it.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“Bond me.”

Jim reached out for the first time, hands trembling. He’d been so afraid to touch Blair, afraid of being rebuked. Not believing that Blair actually wanted him. “Are you sure? Are you positive?”

Blair nodded. “Yes. I pledge my heart, my soul, my life…” Blair smiled at the pale trembling Sentinel. “…my kittens to you. Now and always we will be yours.”

Jim sighed heavily smiling weakly. “Oh, God-Blair.” Pulling his soon to be Guide to him.

“Do you really love me?” Blair asked nuzzling Jim gently.

“Yes, with all my heart. Do you love me, Blair? Even a little?”

Blair wrapped his arms around the Sentinel. “More than a little, I think.”

“You think you don’t know?”

Blair kissed Jim gently on the lips. “You are one damn insecure Sentinel you know that?”

“I can’t help it. You’re beautiful. Anyone would be proud to be your Sentinel.”

“Jim?” Blair whispered, slowly unbuttoning Jim’s shirt.

The Sentinel looked down watching. “Yes, Blair?”

“Remember what you told me about a Guide running and a Sentinel chasing?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not running anymore. You caught me.” Blair ran his hands over Jim’s chest admiring the way the muscles rippled and how warm the Sentinel was.

“I did?” Jim asked, moaning softly when the curly-haired man moved closer nuzzling his ear.

“Yup.” Blair replied, pushing the shirt off Jim’s body. Smiling when it was flung impatiently away. “I’m all yours, no more fighting you.”

The Sentinel tangled his trembling fingers in Blair’s curly-hair pulling his head toward his neck.

Blair licked gently at the soft skin. “Nice.” He whispered softly, lazily swiping it with his tongue.

“Oh, yeah.” Jim replied shakily.

Blair pulled away slightly. “Well, bond me.” He said impatiently.

“It’s already been done.”

“Huh?”

“The minute you stopped fighting me. The bond went into place.”

“Really? That easy?”

Jim smiled at him. “That easy. What were you expecting ? Caveman tactics? Bloodletting or maybe a sexual all-nighter?”

“Hmm, I’m not really sure what to expect.” Blair replied, stroking Jim hair gently. “Though the sexual all-nighter would be real nice.

Jim pulled the willing man into his lap. “See, you were fighting me for no reason. You can have the all nighter whenever you like, but it’ll have to wait until I get over my hangover.”

“Okay.” Blair said nuzzling into the Sentinel’s big chest. “Hey?” He pulled away slightly. “Are you getting what you need.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jim sighed happily.

“How come I don’t feel it?”

“You’re not suppose to.” Jim replied, contently sniffing Blair’s hair. “I told you it’s not suppose to hurt.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm, Blair?”

“Yeah?”

“Now that we’ve bonded and everything that is mine is yours…” Jim’s voice trailed off.

“Hum, hmm?”

“Does that mean the kittens are partly mine now too.” The Sentinel continued, tugging on a strand of Blair’s hair gently.

“Yes.”

“Oh. And since they’re partly mine and since they don’t have names yet can I name them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why should you be allowed to name them?”

“Because I’m your Sentinel and you almost love me.”

“Hmm, I think that a good enough reason. And after everything I’ve put you through. Sure you can name them.”

“Thank-you, Blair.” Jim said, urging his new Guide to lay back down against the futon.

Blair went. “So how do you feel? Better? No more weepies?”

“No more. I feel lots better now that the bond is in place. I think what happened was that I wanted you so much that when you let me finally get near you I over did it. It shouldn’t happen again. From now on I’ll be really, really macho for you.”

Blair ran his hands over Jim’s broad back. “I don’t mind you getting all weepy. I’ll be here to make sure you’re okay.” He smiled up at his Sentinel. “Plus we get to cuddle till you feel better. So there are some benefits.”

“Hmm, yup-there is that.” Jim replied, pulling at the quilts.

Blair helped him. “So what are you going to name the kittens?”

“Hmm, I’ve got some ideas, but right now I want to spend some quality time with my new Guide.” He looked down at Blair, smiling sleepily. “Is that okay with my Guide?”

“That’s more than okay with your Guide.” Blair replied, wrapping his arms around Jim.

The Sentinel sighed softly, laying his head against Blair’s shoulder.

“Jim?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s more than almost.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.”

Blair felt Jim smile against his skin. “I’m glad.” The Sentinel whispered.

“Me too.” Blair made sure the quilts covered the both of them. “Jim?”

The Sentinel buried his face against Blair’s neck. “Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

END

CRIME

Sentinel - Jim/Blair

Author: Lorraine Brevig
Title:  A Present for Jim
Rating: R
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Summary:  Charcoal on canvas board, 12"-h x 9"-w
Show: The Sentinel
Date of publication: Dec 24, 2004
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish. *Thank you* CaroDee for your help and input.
Feedback address:  hisstah@aol.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash
Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm

SCIENCE FICTION

Stargate SG-1 - Jack/Daniel

Title: Yearning
Fandom: Stargate SG1 / SciFi
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Rating: PG
Summary: Daniel is on a mission, and Jack is lonely.
Disclaimer: The usual…me nothing, MGM/Gekko Produktion everything. I’m just borrowing these two wonderful people, and I promise to give them back as soon as I’m ready.
Feedback address: bev_crusher1971@yahoo.de
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: Have yourself a slashy little Christmas...*humming gladly*

Yearning

JACK, 12/22/04

I can’t sleep.

For almost three hours now I’m tossing and turning in my bed, trying desperately to find some much needed sleep.

Two days ‘til Christmas left, and Daniel’s still stuck on that goddamn planet PXwhatsoever.

I hit my fist in my pillow, turning to the left, closing my eyes.

No fucking chance.

I open my eyes again to take a look at the clock.

It’s three in the morning, and I can hear the silence. How weird is that? Hearing the silence. Something like that usually comes from my archaeologist. My? Hell, no. He isn’t MY archaeologist, though I really wish he were.

But he isn’t.

And he will never be.

Once more I turn around, and start counting sheep. But after a few seconds I realize that I’m counting archaeologists, jumping over ruins.

Okay, that’s it. I give up. Cursing, I get up, put on my running gear, and head out in the night. Maybe a little run will tire me out.

***************************************

The next morning:

One day ‘til Christmas, and there is no chance Danny will be home in time. The ruins he’s examining together with SG-6 are much to expanded and much to interesting for him to give it up, and come home. Not for something as unimportant as Christmas.

I can’t hold back the sigh, while I work on some long overdue reports.

I miss him. Period.

Over the last few years, the Christmas’s together with Daniel had become some sort of ritual. He’d usually spent the night before in my house, decorating the tree, wrapping up some last gifts for Carter or Teal’c, and humming some Christmas songs.

When he’s finished, we use to watch some old sappy movie, before we call it an early night, and hit the pillow. Everyone his own, of course. Though I wouldn’t mind him to hit mine together with me.

We’d had some wonderful Christmas nights together. He was the one who gave me back the ability to enjoy this night. To feel the joy I had lost completely after Charlie was gone. I’ve seen no sense in celebrating something like Christmas without a child gazing up the tree, running down the stairs in the early morning hours to find lots of colorful wrapped gifts under said tree. I remember one Christmas morning. Charlie was four or five, and of course a helluva lot faster in getting up than Sara and me. When we finally came down, we had some difficulties to find him.

The picture that presented itself to us that morning, always puts a smile on my face. He was nearly drowning in all the paper, and finally he looked up and smiled at us. I’ll never forget that sight, him sitting in the middle, eyes shining with joy, cheeks flushed in excitement, and I swear…at that moment I was the happiest man in the whole world.

After he died, that happiness was gone for a long time.

Until four years ago a certain archaeologist looked up at me with the same wonder in his eyes.

I guess that was the moment I fell for him.

The year he was gone was hell for me. And nobody dared to talk about Christmas when I was within hearing range.

This year won’t be any different. No Daniel, no tree, no decoratings.

I finish the last report, and glance at the time.

Perfect. It’s almost five, and that means for me, time to get the hell outta here.

I leave the mountain about fifteen minutes later, and head for my truck. Tomorrow is Christmas and we have snow. The whole world looks like some trashy postcard, and I look up the sky, feel the snowflakes melting on my face. And I miss Daniel. Normally he would be by my side right now. Would come home with me. I would make us something to eat, while he would be rumming around in the living room, decorating our tree.

I bought one, but not a single piece of tinsel is hanging on it. Not even the lights. It is standing in its usual corner. But that’s it. For a few days I had the crazy hope, that Daniel might manage to tear himself away from his rocks to be at least here for that one night.

But no.

Well, at least I know where I stand now. Just behind his rocks.

I must admit I’m hurt. The drive home is slow. I have no reason to hurry.

Once inside my house, I lock the door, and for a second I simply stare at the dark tree in its corner. It feels so wrong without Daniel by my side. I walk straight into the kitchen. I know I should eat something, but I’m not hungry. Instead I settle for some liquid nourishment. Like a beer. Or maybe two. I open the fridge, and grab a few bottles.

I open it, and can’t suppress another deep sigh. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I walk back into my living room, switching out the light of the kitchen. The room is dark, and that’s okay by me.

I take a deep gulp, and sit down. Leaning my head back, I stare at the ceiling. My team is on downtime for the next six days. Six days without the blessed distraction of work. Six days without the usual trouble of the SGC.

Six days without Daniel. I close my eyes, and empty my beer. Then I open the next one.

*************************************

Apparently I managed to get drunk. When I open my eyes, I can see Daniel. His beautiful face, his shining blue eyes, his graceful movements. I can hear his voice, softly whispering my name. My head is spinning, and I must have had more than I thought.

Because on my way to bed, I can swear I feel Daniel’s arms steadying me. And I swear, I can see that my tree is finally decorated.

I move against him, trying to press closer to my dream because no way this is real.

“I missed you Danny. Why didn’t you come home to me? Not even for Christmas?” I mumble.

I can hear an answer in my dream. A soft laughter, a gentle kiss pressed to my temple.

“I’m home now, Jack. Now let’s get you to bed, okay?”

I nod against his shoulder. Kiss his shoulder through the fabric of his clothes. Funny, how real this seems…though it’s only a dream.

“Stay with me, Danny? Don’t leave me?”

Can dreams hesitate? Dreams of Daniel…yes.

“I’ll never leave you, Jack. Never!”

We’re in my bedroom, and I have to close one eye to see properly. And I see Daniel, getting undressed, then he comes over, undresses me, and finally we tumble onto the bed together. The moment my head touches my pillow, I’m gone, drowning in my beer-induced unconsciousness.

But with my last coherent thought, I reach out, and pull my dream-Daniel closer to me, and with my last breath I whisper “I love you, Danny.” before sleep finally claims me.

DANIEL, PX1-224, 12/23/04:

With a sigh I sit back on my heels. The sun is merciless hot, and is shining on eleven hours every day.

Wistfully, I think of earth. Tomorrow is Christmas. I’m sure they have snow.

Jack loves snow.

Today is the night before Christmas. This night has become OUR night. In those past years, ever since the first day, when he took me home to his house, he’s been my Guardian Angel…well…kind of. I must admit that sometimes he can be a very grumpy Guardian Angel, but that’s the way I know him. That’s the way I like him.

No, what I mean is that he’s always been there for me. And somewhere along the way I’ve fallen for him. Strongly, if not very wisely. If he ever would know what kind of feelings I have for him, he would kick my ass to the next Goa’uld system lord. So I hide my feelings, and take what I can get. What he’s willing to give. Little crumbs, small signs of affection. Casual touches. Friendly smiles that make my heart beat faster. And our night-before every year.

This year will be the first we’re NOT spending Christmas together. I go on to brush the stone table which is lying in front of me, still half buried under dirt. The signs on it may be some ancient Goa’uld language. We still don’t know what they mean, but as soon as I’ve removed all the dirt, I can make pictures, maybe even a film if necessary, and then I can finally start the translation.

“Dr. Jackson?”

I raise my head, and shield my eyes. Through the swirling heat of the sun, I see Jeff Conway coming closer, SG 6’s own archaeologist. His movements are slow, controlled. He looks as if he would break down every second.

“Yes?”

Now he’s standing in front of me. I can see the sweat pouring down his body, leaving big, dark spots on his shirt.

“The Colonel wants to know if you would like anything special for tonight. You know, it’s the night before Christmas, and some of the others have already suggested to sing some songs tonight.”

Do I want anything? Yes, damned well I want anything. I want to go home, to Jack’s house. I want to decorate our tree. And I want to have Jack. I’ve been a good boy this year…

Just when I’m about to shake my head ‘no’, I change my mind.

To hell with these Goa’uld writings. They can wait until tomorrow. Or the day after that. I get up quickly, gather my few belongings, and smile at a pretty confused Jeff.

“Yes, Jeff. There is something I want for tonight. Tell your colonel I’ll be back in one, no, in two days.”

With that I hurry off, and head in direction of the ‘gate.

General Hammond may be surprised to see me, but guess who cares…

***************************************

The ‘gate closes down behind me with its usual swooshing noise.

“Dr. Jackson. Are there any problems?”

General Hammond. His face is friendly, but I can see the question behind his words.

I smile, and shake my head, hoping that he will drop it. But no chance. Before I’m out of the Gateroom, he’s there.

“Dr.Jackson?”

O-kay…what am I going to say now? ‘Sorry, General, but I really long to see Jack now?’

Or maybe…’Sir, would you please take a step aside, so I can hurry off and chase after Jack.’

No, I guess the best would be to simply say,

“Hi, General. I’m sorry to cause any inconviences, but I have an appointment. An important appointment that I nearly forgot.”

He looks at me with this very special expression in his eyes, and for a few seconds I have the sickening feeling he knows…he knows that I want nothing more than to go to Jack’s house, drag him inot his bedroom, kiss him senseless and fuck him to the next planet I know.

But suddenly he smiles, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s allright, son. It’s Christmas. Go to your…appointment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And in a hurry I leave.

****************************************************

Everything is dark.

That’s astonishing. It’s unusual. I should be able to see the lights from the tree from here, but there is nothing. I clim out of my car, and carefully make my way to Jack’s frontdoor.

I was right. We have snow. The whole world is covered with a thick white blanket, quieting all the noise. It stopped snowing, and on the sky above I can see millions of stars.

I use my key to open the front door. Quietly I push the door open, and hear a soft snoring. It comes from the sofa. Slowly I step closer, and smile.

There is Jack, sleeping peacefully. On the table I can see three empty bottles of beer, and that explains the deep sleep of my friend.

The tree is standing in its usual corner, but there are no decorations on it. I frown. It seems as if Jack’s been determined to cancel Christmas this year.

Oh no, my friend. Get seated, lean back, Daniel is home!

Quietly I go to get the balls, the tinsel, the silver bells and the top-angel, and start to decorate our tree.

It takes me about an hour. All the time Jack is snoring without waking up.

When I finally switch on the lights, Jack is moving slightly. I move to his side, gazing down at him.

Suddenly he opens his eyes, staring at me, his eyes as dark and unreadable as always.

“Hi, Jack.”

He says nothing, just stares at me. His tiredness is almost palpable, and gently I stroke back one strand of hair.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

He only nods, and somehow manages to stumble to his feet. I throw my arm around his waist to steady him.

Suddenly he stops, and looks at me again.

“I missed you Danny. Why didn’t you come home to me? Not even for Christmas?”

For a few seconds I just stare at him open-mouthed. And I know that my decision to come home was right.

I have a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I can resist the temptation to press a quick kiss to his temple, before I answer,

“I’m home now, Jack. Now let’s get you to bed, okay?”

His head drops to my shoulder, and I can feel his nodding. And I can feel his kiss through the fabric of my shirt. My heart trips a beat, or maybe even two.

“Stay with me, Danny? Don’t leave me?”

His voice sounds tired, and involutarily I tighten my grip around his waist. I hesitate for a second, but then…

“I’ll never leave you, Jack. Never!”

Quickly I undress myself, while Jack is standing next to his bed, swaying tiredly, one eye closed, the other observes me. I know he won’t be able to undress himself, so I make it for him.

The second his head hits his pillow, he’s gone. But once again he surprises me, for in the last second he reaches out again and pulls me close to his body.

And then I can hear the words, mumbled half asleep, and barely audible.

“I love you, Danny.”

I can feel tears in my eyes. How’s the saying? “Drunken and children always tell the truth,” or so.

Carefully, so as not to awake my sleeping friend, I stroke his silver hair.

“I love you, too. My Jack.”

With a deep, contented sigh, I close my eyes, snuggle closer to him, and fall asleep within a few minutes.

************************************************

Jack, the next morning

I wake up the next morning, feeling warm, content and good. Then some memory comes back. Oh my, what a weird dream I’ve had. A dream of Daniel coming home, of going to bed with me. Of him kissing me. Of him telling me he…

Suddenly I can feel a warm breath on my neck. A heavy arm around my waist. A voice, I longed to hear for the last few days.

“Sorry I missed the movie last night.”

Slightly startled I turn around, and find myself nose to nose with a very sleepy archaeologist, who’s just adoringly kissable. Apparently he thinks the same. Before I can react, he closes the tiny gap between our faces and gives me a tender kiss. Without thinking, I close my eyes, and kiss him back.

This is more than I ever imagined. Better than I hoped it would be. More tender than I ever known.

I want to say something, want to ask him why he’s here. Not only on earth, but in my house, in my bed, in my arms. Not that I’m complaining, I’m just curious. But his mouth, his mouth which is so incredibly talented when it come to languages…god, his mouth is doing things to me that makes my brain melt. I can hardly remember my name. Involutarily, I tighten my grip around this man, and pull him closer.

After a few minutes we part. The kissing was not so much for passion. It was tender, loving, heartwrenchingly gentle. I lean my forehead against his, and finally I can gather enough functioning braincells to form a question.

“How come you’re here?”

His smile is almost shy.

“I missed you, Jack. Christmas without you just isn’t the same. So I decided to come home.”

Another kiss, another braincell lost.

“Do you mind?”

Again this shyness. For cryin’ out loud. This man is lying in my head, is kissing me that I can feel my toes curl, and he asks me if I mind. I shake my head, and smile.

“Yeah. Like hell. God, Danny. I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I pull him even closer, though that’s hardly possible. He rests his head on my shoulder, and I can feel his smile.

“Merry Christmas, my Jack.”

“Merry Christmas, Danny.”

We have to talk about this later. I know that. This is Daniel, and there is no way I can avoid to talk about all this. But that can wait. Right now I have all I ever wished for Christmas. And I have it here in my arms.

The world is bright, the tree is decorated, and the world is wonderful. Isn’t it?

The end

SCIENCE FICTION

Stargate - Atlantis - Sheppard/Ford

Author: Ximeria
Title: All I want for Christmas is you.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - Sci-fi
Pairing: Sheppard/Ford
Rating: PG13
Summary: Ask a seemingly silly question and get a perfectly serious answer.
Date: December 24th, 2004
Disclaimer: The boys and girls of SGA belong to MGM/Sci-fi etc -- you know, the guys who've already proven they can sink a series like SG-1
Feedback address: ximeria@popullus.net
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Various people on AG and LJ helped out with this one. And Snowdrop as always spotted my grammar abuse *g*

All I Want For Christmas is You

'Pleased to meet ya. Name's Sheppard, John. Major in the USAF and right now I'm as homesick as it gets...'

John sighed and made a face at his reflection in the glass of the control center. He had woken this morning feeling oddly askew with the world and when he had checked the date... well, the date it would be on Earth, he realized that although he didn't have that much family left back on old mother Earth, he really would miss them... especially considering it was December 21st today... So close to Christmas.

Grimacing at his own state of funk, he reminded himself that even if he *had* been back on Earth, he probably would not have spent Christmas with his family.

Then why should he be missing Christmas? The bright lights? Oh, they had bright lights here. He could even light most of them up without breaking a sweat, hell, without touching any switches. The snow? Well, he'd had enough snow during his assignment to McMurdo and he'd gone through plenty of non-white Christmases.

So, with all these people here, why had no one prepared for Christmas? John rolled his eyes as he slipped out unto the outside walkways, breathing in the salty sea air. Because they'd been busy with the Wraith attacks and because not everyone among the staff were brought up to celebrate Christmas, that was the kicker with several different religions in play. Heck, they now even had an actual 'alien' in on the whole thing as well. John frowned. Though technically for once, they were actually all aliens when you thought about it.

Damn, some days he had the ability of giving himself a headache. John frowned and wondered if he could blame that on genetic heritage from the Ancients... Nah, probably not. That was entirely a Sheppard thing.

John frowned when he heard the steady footfall of military boots heading his way. He really would have preferred to stay outside on his own for a bit longer, to clear his mind a little.

"Feeling homesick?" The question was softly asked and John relaxed as he recognized the voice.

Turning his head a little, John watched how the light lend Ford a healthy glow. Or maybe it was just the man himself. There was something eternally peaceful about the lieutenant, but also something he could only describe as pure mischief.

A good man and a good team member.

"Don't we all sometimes?" John answered with a shrug.

"I'm gonna miss Christmas," Ford admitted softly, echoing John's thoughts.

"Maybe some things," John admitted.

"I'm gonna miss my family," Ford continued, obviously up for sharing personal stuff. John was less than sure about how to handle that. He was a private man himself, but no fool. Being away from home would do this to some people, and he would be neglecting his role as leader of the military portion of this mission if he just ignored it.

And oddly enough, he wanted to know more about the younger man.

"Gonna miss the family, too." Ford sighed and shifted as he leaned against the railing next to John. "Not for the presents, but for the company."

"I haven't really celebrated my last couple of Christmases any other way than with a bottle of Scotch," John found himself revealing, wondering how his young Lieutenant had managed to get under his carefully erected defenses. And so easily.

"You think Weir would let us decorate the place?" Ford turned a little and the spark of mirth in the dark eyes made John smile.

So much enthusiasm it almost hurt to look at him.

"And while we're at it, why don't we ask the Wraith to postpone any encounters they have scheduled with our off-world teams." John suppressed a grin. "Just in the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh yeah," Ford grinned back, nudging his shoulder against John's, making Sheppard wonder when he had moved to stand so close. "You think they'd do that for us?"

Jon snorted. "Right, of course they will."

Ford laughed outright and John had a hard time trying to keep a straight face and finally gave in.

It felt so good to do this, to let go and laugh a little. As much as John tackled the world with humor, it was never quite this way. Sure, he tried to defuse bad situations with it, it was a kind of safety valve to him... But this?

This was joy.

John chuckled as the thought struck him, that if he could bottle Ford's laughter he could make a fortune. He really should not get this close to the other man -- they were part of the same team, and John was no fool. He knew perfectly well why he felt hot and cold all over right at that very moment.

'Fuck, John, don't even go there...'

"What?" Ford was eyeing him with a slightly amused smile.

John raised an eyebrow. "You're in an awfully good mood today."

"My shift's over, it's all nice and quiet, and I figured I could get away with enjoying the rest of the evening," Ford admitted. "What's there not to be happy about?"

John stopped himself before he could offer to keep him company. He really did like Ford... a lot. But maybe, if all he needed was some kind of ...release, then maybe one of the civilians would be better...

Or maybe he should just stick to his right hand. The kind of society they had here was fragile if everyone slept around with everyone. They were too few to keep something like casual sex a secret.

"Wanna join me for a little relaxation?" Ford asked with a sweet smile.

John did a double take and stared hard at the other man for a moment.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked warily. This was an act of balance. He did want to spend time with Ford, but he knew perfectly well that if he was not careful, he would get himself into a world of trouble.

"I think I still have a little Scotch I smuggled along," the Lieutenant offered.

"You brought Scotch?" Sheppard asked, telling himself that alcohol and company right now did not go well together.

Or maybe it went a little too well together.

Ford chuckled and walked to the entrance, turning and watching Sheppard with an unreadable look. "I've still got quite a bit left."

"Thought you might want to save that for celebration when the Wraiths surrender," John joked lightly, but pushed away from the railing.

"I don't mean to sound negative, but that might be a long time coming." Ford turned and fell into step with him as they walked down the stairs and through the embarkation room. At this time it was illuminated sparsely and very few people were on duty. "Besides, I think we can have a little pre-Christmas celebration of sorts." The last came out a little wistfully.

"And you wouldn't want to do that alone," Sheppard finished for him with a soft smile.

"Actually, I'd prefer it if you joined me... that is if you want to?" Ford's voice held a hint of uncertainty.

John wanted to say no, opened his mouth to say no, but much to his surprise, he said: "Sure, lead the way."

'I'm a glutton for punishment,' John sighed to himself. Then again, the broad smile that was aimed at him was worth anything. Including John's good sense...

It seemed so very easy to joke around with his Lieutenant and John steeled himself, vowing that he would not do anything that would be considered 'conduct unbecoming'.

No matter how hard... pardon the pun, his young friend made it.

Two hours later, John was trying hard to remember what it was he had promised himself. The quarters were not exactly big and roomy, so they had both sat down on the bed, kicked their boots off and as they regaled each other with strange tales of their lives, John realized that they were sitting a little too close for his comfort. Or at least a little too close for the combination of his libido and the Scotch.

"So," Ford slurred with a happy grin. "There we were, all of us green recruits, and this scha-sadistic ass of a drill sergeant drags us out of the barracks at 02 shit in the night, because someone had filled his sleeping bag with frogs."

"So you were all punished for a prank only a few of you were involved in," John finished with a grin. "Ever find out who was behind it?"

"I was sworn to secrecy," Aiden said with a wide grin, his dark eyes shining with mirth.

"Right, you mean you were one of them," John laughed happily.

"Schhhhhhhh," Ford chuckled conspiratorially.

For a moment they simply laughed until suddenly Ford stopped and turned a pair of very serious eyes on John. Or rather, as serious as he could manage in his state.

"So... what do you want Santa to bring along this year?" he asked.

John blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know," he admitted. "A trip home?" he said, only partly joking.

Ford pondered for a moment then nodded. "That the Wraith get a one way ticket to hell," he said with feeling.

John nodded. "Good one." Then he tried to come up with another one. "Mmmm, another bottle of Scotch," he said with a laugh.

Ford joined his laughter and although it was not overly funny, they kept laughing, every time one would wind down, a chuckle from the other would set him off again.

"Any really insane wishes for Christmas?" John finally asked, sleepily rubbing his eyes. It was not overly late, but the alcohol and the comfortable sprawl on the bed were lulling him into a near sleep state.

Ford mumbled something and John frowned. "What did you say?"

The other man looked a little flustered and John tried to clear his head a little, but with little success.

"Come on, you can tell me," John wheedled.

Ford took a deep breath and shook his head as he sat up on the bed, scooting forward until he was sitting with his back to John.

So... John figured he could either let it go or...

Poking a finger into Ford's side he managed to find a nice ticklish spot.

"Come on, Aiden, spill."

Ford squirmed away from the teasing fingers, but John was just drunk enough to not think before following. They ended up tumbling around on the narrow bed, more than once nearly rolling off.

John laughed as he managed to pin the other man under him, instinctively going for the most ticklish spots. They wrestled for a few more heartbeats until Ford went uncharacteristically still under him.

The lack of fight made John stop, but he kept a wary eye on the other man. Their bodies were like fused together, with only their clothes to keep them apart. A short, panicked thought hit him as he realized that he was as hard as ever and that it had been the case since their little wrestling match had started.

The only thing that kept his panic at a manageable level was the fact that he was not alone. Tendrils of want snaked their way up, winding their way around his spine and without thinking about it, he rocked against the mirrored hardness, hot and insistent in its answer.

John sighed as he looked down into the dark eyes. He had to smile a little, if sadly, at the near panicked look that greeted him.

"It's okay," he mumbled as he forced himself to pull back. This was still salvageable. They had been drinking, wrestling around... "I should go."

"Don't..." The hand gripping his lower arm, stopped John.

"This isn't the world's brightest idea," he tried to argue, but it was not easy to concentrate with the warm body underneath him and the flicker of hope he saw in Ford's eyes. "Aiden..."

"No..." Ford closed his eyes for a moment, biting his lower lip. He continued as he opened his eyes again and John had no problem reading the honest face. "The answer to what I want, is 'you'."

"It's a foolish..." John began, but was stopped by two fingers covering his lips.

"Don't..." Ford said, part warning, part plead. "I want this and..." a shadow of the previous mischievous smile flickered across the face. "Apparently you do too."

John could not help but smile at that. What could he say? Ford was right. Although it would complicate matters. "I can't risk all this, our working relationship, for a fling," he warned, partly hoping Ford would back down. Partly that he would persist.

The warm fingers returned to cover his mouth and John tilted his head to the side, reveling in the feel of the slight slide of callused skin against his lips.

"'s not a fling," the younger man whispered. There was a sweetness and stillness to him that John had rarely noticed.

John drew in a deep breath. Maybe a fling *would* have been easier to handle.

"I know there are fraternization rules," Ford said as he slipped the fingers from John's lips to caress the slightly stubbled jaw.

"Then you know *why* this is such a bad idea," John argued, though he was aware of how convincing he was not.

"We're so far from home," Aiden continued, a small, sad smile formed on his face.

John breathed in deeply, held it for a moment and then let it go, slowly exhaling. He caught the light scent of soap, sweat and musk from the other man and he enjoyed it, wanted it, *needed* it.

Instead of trying to argue a case he did not feel was awfully strong, John leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over Aiden's, feeling and hearing the sigh that left the strong body.

"And even out here," John whispered, "you're hoping Santa'll find you."

Aiden broke into a wide grin that made John's heart jump. A strong hand wrapped itself around his neck and pulled him down for another soft kiss.

"I don't think it matters where you are," Ford said with a smile when they broke apart.

John laughed out loud. "Next thing you'll be telling me that you've seen Rudolph around," he accused lightly.

Aiden did not answer, he simply leaned back up and nipped at John's lips.

"God, you're weird," John muttered before he let his lieutenant drag him down again.

Who'd have thought? Sometimes wishes *did* come true and this year, Christmas would not be quite so lonely.

The End

SCIENCE FICTION

Jeremiah - Kurdy/Mr Smith

Author: Angyl and Rina
Title: Faith, Hope and Christmas
Date: December 24, 2004
Fandom: Jeremiah - Sci Fi
Pairing: Kurdy / Mister Smith
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Disclaimer:
Feedback address: angyl@rogers.com,  Rina83@msn.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note:
Beta: Orithain

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Faith, Hope and Christmas
By Angyl and Rina
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You planning on coming to Millhaven for Christmas?"

Mister Smith looked up from his lukewarm coffee, glancing first at Kurdy, of whom the question had been asked, then at Jeremiah, who had done the asking.

When Kurdy looked over at him, Smith lifted one shoulder minutely as if to say 'up to you, man'. Libby's death still lay heavy on his conscience, and if Kurdy went to Millhaven for Christmas, well, he supposed he'd spend it here at the Mountain or on the road somewhere.

"Depends, Jeremiah," Kurdy replied, deciding to go for blunt honesty. "I'd love to spend Christmas with you, man; you're my best friend. But Smith is part of the package, you dig?"

Jeremiah looked from Kurdy to Smith, and nodded. "Yeah, I dig." He then quirked a smile. "So, I just have to get one bed ready for the two of you, right?"

"Unless Kurdy starts to snore," Smith commented. "He does that, his ass is out on the couch."

"Guess again pale face," Kurdy snorted, nudging Smith with his shoulder before finishing the last bite of his breakfast.

Turning to Jeremiah, the black man fought hard to tamp down the shit-eating grin that threatened to take him over. "So, is Markus going to be there too?" he asked as casually as he could. "And if he is, should I requisition a couple of pairs of ear plugs?"

Smith snickered as Jeremiah flushed under his tan and cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, hopefully it'll drown out the sound of you two snoring." He raised his hands and made quotation marks in the air at the last.

"Hey, he's the screamer, not me," Kurdy retorted and then burst out laughing at the pained sound that Jeremiah made. "Hey, just correcting the misinformation," the black man smirked. "Now if I were to describe just what I do to make him scream, that would fall under the too much information category, but I haven't done that, have I?"

Jeremiah looked at Smith as if begging for help, but Smith only grinned. "He's an inventive man, what can I say, and then there's that piercing..."

Kurdy smirked and stuck out his tongue, waggling it suggestively, the metal barbell in his tongue winking in the light. "You're a piercing slut, Smith, admit it," he teased, ignoring Jeremiah and his retching noises. Reaching over with a gloved hand, Kurdy mentally said to hell with keeping up appearances as he wrapped the hand around the base of Smith's neck and tugged. He was with enigmatic man now, end of story, and he didn't give a flying fuck who knew. Pressing his lips against Smith's, Kurdy ran the piercing along the seam of the other man's mouth, silently asking entry.

Groaning as Smith pulled Kurdy closer, Jeremiah looked away, missing the smirk Smith gave before opening his mouth to Kurdy's probing tongue.

Kurdy responded enthusiastically; after all they were still in their 'honeymoon' phase, and all Smith had to do was smile at him and he was hard. And he liked sex, lots of it, readily available, the black man admitted to himself. However, he also liked the cuddling afterwards.

Finally breaking off the kiss, he glanced over at Jeremiah and had to laugh. "You feeling all right there, pal? You're looking kinda... feverish. You might wanna have someone check you out, say... Markus?"

Jeremiah groaned as he turned to walk away. "Why do I do this to myself?"

Smith straightened up and laughed. "Because you're a masochist?"

"And that would make Markus, what, a sadist? Do you even want to go down this road?" Kurdy queried his lover. "That's just waaaay too much information for me!"

"Christ, just pack up if you want a ride; I'm heading out in two hours."

Smith chuckled as Jeremiah stomped away. "I think you scared him."

"It'll do him some good. Might help him remember to keep the noise down too," Kurdy smirked as he stood up and grabbed his tray. "C'mon, Smith, let's get our gear together. We got Christmas in Millhaven to attend."

***

"Out of the kitchen!" Smith shouted, waving a spoon at Jeremiah and Markus, who kept taste-testing his cooking. "Not you!" He pointed at Kurdy. "You stay here and help."

Grumbling under his breath, Kurdy shot the two sniggering men a dirty look as they fled the kitchen to avoid Smith's wrath. Just because he happened to be sleeping with Smith didn't mean he was the man's go-fer... or did it?

"You realize I burn water, right? We've travelled enough together that you know I suck at this."

"Yeah, but you can hand me things while I do the cooking," Smith grinned. "Starting with a beer."

"Would you like me to drink it and then piss it out for you too?" Kurdy snarled without heat.

"Nah, think I can handle it; you _can_ get me the sugar though - and give me a kiss."

"Damn pushy assed bottom," Kurdy sighed as he headed for the cupboard that held the sugar, snagging a beer on the way past the fridge. "I'm almost as owned as Jeremiah is. It's a fucked up state of affairs."

"Poor baby, and at least Jeremiah doesn't whine about it as much as you do; I'm thinking of getting you a pacifier for Christmas."

"Try it and die, Smith," Kurdy remarked blandly. "No one will miss you, and I know how to bury a body."

Taking a sip of his own beer, Kurdy lost himself in introspection for a while. "Hey, Smith, did you... wanna have your daughter here for Christmas? I'm sure Jeremiah wouldn't mind, and we could go get her while the morons make sure nothing burns," the black man offered quietly.

Smith shook his head while he stirred the stew. "No, I talked to her before we left, and she wanted to stay with her friends; apparently they're less strange than all of us." He grinned at the thought. "But I promised we'd stop by and spend the day with her on the way back."

"Guess I'd better hit Millhaven's stores for presents for a little girl then. Actually..." Kurdy thought back to the collection of glass figurines that had belonged to Elizabeth and was now his, that had been packed away with a great deal of care.

The swan he'd always keep; it had been the thing that had made it possible for him to woo and win his Elizabeth. But now that he was involved with Smith--and he couldn't foresee the relationship ending anytime soon except by the death of one or both of them--Kurdy didn't really need the tiny pieces of carved glass anymore.

Besides, Elizabeth wouldn't want them kept wrapped in a box; she'd want someone to admire them, and who better than a little girl--someone who was the hope of their future? Kurdy suddenly remembered a crystal butterfly in the collection that would be perfect for a little girl just emerging from her own cocoon.

"Do you think she'd mind it being a few days late, or maybe we could swing by the mountain before heading over there? I think I know what I want to give her, but I don't have it with me."

"Never heard of driving twelve hours out of the way for a gift, but sure, if you want to, we can; hope you don't mind most of Christmas day on the road."

"If it brings a smile to your daughter's face, I'd say it would be worth it, but I'll just drag you to a shop here in Millhaven and give her the other present the next time we go to visit."

Coming up behind Smith, Kurdy wrapped his hands around the smaller man's waist and nuzzled his scruffy chin against Smith's neck before kissing it. "I'm just glad I get to spend a _real_ Christmas with you. It's been a very, very long time."

There was a loud thump from the other room, then a seductive chuckle. "Might be a bit noisy though."

"Ya think?" Kurdy laughed, kissing Smith one last time before heading to the kitchen door. "Hey you horn dogs, take it upstairs or keep it down! Some of us are trying to get into the holiday spirit and cook y'all a Christmas dinner, so stop trying to eat sausage; we've got a turkey in the oven!"

Letting the door swing shut behind him, Kurdy turned and winked at Smith. "Which one do you think will kill me first, my best friend or our fearless leader?" he chuckled as he began to peel the potatoes to go with the dinner.

***

Pushing away from the table, Kurdy groaned in bliss. "Smith, that was the best Christmas dinner I've ever had. You've outdone yourself!" he complimented his lover. Looking towards Jeremiah and Markus, the black man grinned. "We cooked; you two have KP duty. Enjoy!"

Listening to the groans that came in answer to that comment, Smith laughed as he stood and stretched. "And to make sure you don't beg for help, we're going for a walk."

"Oh, and, guys? KP doesn't include sex on any kitchen surface, in the kitchen, in the dining room or on the dining room table, so don't even think about it. Have fun!" Kurdy sniggered, waggling his fingers as he joined Smith at the door, grabbing his winter jacket and tugging on his boots.

Waiting only long enough for Smith to do the same, Kurdy grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door, breathing a sigh of relief as it shut behind him. "Alone at last," he murmured, hauling Smith into his arms and kissing him hungrily. "I was getting seriously frustrated there."

Smith looked up at him and chuckled. "Kurdy, you get frustrated if the wind blows wrong."

"Are you complaining?" the black man asked mildly, an eyebrow quirking in disbelief at Smith's comment. "It seems to me that you benefit as much as I do when I get like that. In fact, Jeremiah told me the other day that they'd finished restoring the storage shed behind the house. It's soundproofed, insulated and it's got a little place in the rafters to hide people from prying eyes in case Jeremiah ever needs a safe house for someone.

"I think we need to go check it out. Jeremiah says it's supposed to be soundproof, but... we really should verify it before we have to use it in a real situation, don't you think?"

"Hmm, and I was angling for a nice quiet walk to the edge of town and some star-gazing, but if you want to go with the hot and horny over the romantic, oh well."

"Who says we can't do both?" Kurdy grinned, taking Smith's hand in his and tugging the other man down the steps. "Romance first and then horniness to warm us up after we freeze our asses off, cuddling under the stars."

Bringing Smith's hand up to his lips, Kurdy kissed the palm, showing uncharacteristic gentleness to the man he had chosen as his partner and his lover. "I'm probably tempting fate here, but…this is the happiest I've been in… since the Big Death. Oh, I was happy with Elizabeth, but we were still trying to figure things out between us, and then she was dead, and I wasn't a nice person to be around for a while.

"I hated Jeremiah then; I blamed him for her death. But I got over it, and he has too, about Libby, even though he might not have come right out and said so to you. I guess falling in love again helped the both of us deal with it. Never thought it would go down like this, falling for another guy--for either of us. Jeremiah and Markus… well, that's about as far out there as you and me, but… you make me _happy_, Smith. Thank you for that."

Smith stroked his fingers along Kurdy's cheek, feeling the coarse facial hair under his palm. "Glad to help, and thank you for believing in me, Kurdy; not many do."

"It's easy," Kurdy admitted. "_Now_. But I've trusted you from the beginning, and you've never led me astray. You've given me back my faith in something bigger than even the Big Death. You've given me hope."

"Everyone needs something to believe in; I found that out the hard way," Smith murmured. "I'm just glad I could do the same to you."

"That you did," Kurdy smiled, wrapping an arm around Smith's shoulders and tucking him in closer to his body. From inside the house came a crash and a bellow, causing both men to start then snicker. "It'd say that was our cue to get the hell out of here. C'mon, lover, let's go take a walk in our winter wonderland."

End~

FANTASY

Buffy - Xander/Spike

Author: Akinaj
Date: December 24, 2004
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Anya left Xander at Christmas in the Basement of Doom
Disclaimer: Not mine, never was, never will be, no matter how much I wish they were…
Feedback address: yellow_dragon_22@yahoo.de
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: A big thank you to amejisuto, aeb, alice23kate, darkhavens, kyrieane, sunnyd_lite, elsa58, chocgood84 and brandil for prompts that finally got this fic started and made it take shape.
Beta: I have to thank my beta adis723 for whipping this fic into readable shape. This wouldn’t be possible without her help and encouragement. You rock, darling!

Gingerbread and Eggnog

Spike makes his way down the stairs to Xander’s basement apartment just before dawn. He knows the boy is probably all curled up with his demon girlfriend, but the crypt has been destroyed yet again and he doesn’t really have any other place to stay.

Ok, so technically he could ask the Watcher or even the Slayer, but it’s so much easier to wheedle a place out of the boy, not to mention more fun. It also gives him the chance to surreptitiously check out Xander’s very nice body, but Spike firmly locks that thought up in the farthest corner of his mind.

He almost steps onto it, lost in thoughts of the delicious body hidden under those god-awful clothes. There, on the bottom of the stairs lies a small pile of gingerbread cookies, thoughtfully wrapped in a white paper napkin with cheery mistletoe, and held together with a bright red bow.

Spike bends down to move them aside, and is astonished to find them still warm. He lifts them off the floor and takes a bite from one. Willow’s work, he decides, and wonders why the little witch would leave cookies at Xander’s doorstep this early in the morning.

Moving into the room, cookies still in hand, Spike has to suppress a laugh at the mismatched Christmas decorations. An old bedraggled aluminium Christmas tree stands in one corner, a box of old and broken red ornaments next to it. Other half-empty boxes of broken and wrecked ornaments lay all around the room, and the windows are framed by strings of fairy lights in purple and yellow, clashing glaringly with the predominant green and red of the other decorations.

The scent of pine air freshener hangs in the air, but only adds to the bad smell of the basement, existing alongside the dust and dankness of it.

An empty bottle of JD lies next to the couch, and on top of the couch, hugging a dark red velvet pillow covered with a thick layer of dust, lies his unknowing host, Xander, dressed in nothing but an old grey wife beater and tight boxers. The clothes cling to his body, revealing that he has finally lost any traces of puppy fat and now sports some very nice and firm muscles.

Gently, trying not to wake the boy just yet, Spike places the cookies on the table. The cheery red bow catches his eye, and seeing as Xander doesn’t even move at his approach, Spike thinks of how nice the ribbon would look tied around his neck. He moves around to stand behind the couch, ready to slide the ribbon around Xander’s neck

Just then, Xander turns, opening one bleary eye and staring directly into the vampire’s face peeking over the back of the couch. With a deep weary groan, the eye closes again, and a tired voice asks: “Your crypt wrecked again, Spike? Well, feel free to stay in the comfy chair of doom, not like there’s anything you can wreck down here anyways.” And pushing the dusty pillow at Spike, he rolls over and goes right back to sleep.

Spike’s completely stunned. No demon bint, no nasty comments, the bottle of JD and the cookies. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

He walks back around to the front of the couch and tries to rouse the boy with a careful shake to his shoulder, strong enough to wake, not enough to set off the chip.

“Oi, come on, boy! What’s all this about? Your hellhole looks like an explosion of bad Christmas decoration, there were warm cookies on your steps, and you’re laying on the couch with a hangover? Get on up, mate! I want an explanation!”

Weary eyes blink open, trying to focus on the annoyance at his shoulder, then he sits up suddenly.

“Cookies, you said there were cookies?”

“Yep, Red must have left them, they’re still warm, wanna bite?” He waves them teasingly in front of Xander’s face. He’s a little surprised by the sudden speed the boy exhibits, snatching the cookies right from his hand.

“Hmmm, Willow’s special gingerbread!” Xander sighs, biting into the head of a cookie that strongly resembles a Fyarl demon, if Spike is any judge. He enjoys watching Xander savour his cookie for a moment, but when he is sure Xander is completely relaxed and not expecting any harm, he goes for the kill.

“So, pet, wanna tell me why you passed out drunk on your couch instead of staying nice and sober and having lots of orgasms with your demon girl?”

The lightning change of expression comes as a surprise. Xander’s whole face crumbles, and Spike just knows he’s gonna start to bawl any minute now, when the phone rings, saving them both from the awkward situation.

Xander reaches tiredly for the phone, then after a moment, “Yes, ok, I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Yeah, ok, no problem, thanks for calling.”

He turns to Spike. “Ok, stay here, don’t touch anything, feel free to leave at any time, just don’t do anything really evil while I’m away. Just need to pick something up, I’ll be back in an hour or so. There’s some blood left, if you’re hungry, leave me a cookie or two. At least that way I don’t have to see you dunking them in blood.”

He sounds tired and, for a moment, Spike feels just a tad sorry for the guy.

“Yeah, yeah, ok, I’ve got it, heat blood, dunk cookies, leave some for you… now shoo, go do whatever you need to. I’ll find something on the telly to entertain me…” he waves the boy out of the room, already sprawling on the couch and flipping through the channels.

As soon as he hears the door fall shut however, he’s out of the chair, prowling around the room looking for any hint to what has crawled up the boy’s ass this time. He stops when he notices a blood red gift box on top of the TV set. It’s only closed with a neon green ribbon, which also holds a garish commercial Christmas card.

Smirking, he pulls out the card. It’s not sealed or in an envelope, making it fair game for Spike’s curiosity. Not that it would have bothered him to open even sealed post, but this makes it much easier to hide his snooping.

His curiosity peeks when he reads the card. It bears Anya’s neat lettering, saying that she hopes Xander will make good use of her gift, now that she isn’t there to hinder him developing his true identity.

Not feeling any remorse at all, as he’s pretty sure Xander hasn’t even seen the box yet, he pulls off the ribbon and lifts the lid.

Loud evil laughter rings through the basement when he sees what the bint meant with ‘good use’. Inside lay several video tapes, all containing gay porn, if the covers are accurate.

Spike picks one up to take a closer look when he hears steps outside. Quickly dropping it back into the box and placing it back on the TV, he hurries over to the fridge and starts fixing himself a mug of blood.

He doesn’t show any reaction when Xander stomps down the stairs and sags onto the couch. Waiting for the microwave to finish, he makes sure that the temperature is right before turning towards Xander with the mug in hand. He almost lets it drop when he sees the expression of absolute shock, dejection and misery on Xander’s face.

Spread out on the table, cookies carefully moved to one side, are dozens of pictures of Xander with his girl. Which isn’t all that unusual by itself, but combined with the look on Xander’s face, it twists something deep inside Spike’s body. He knows that look, knows the feeling. It’s what brought him back to Sunnydale, after all.

Making his steps deliberate and noisy, he steps up to the couch, and rests one hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“That’s the reason for your funk, eh, pet? Demon girl left you, just in time for the holidays, probably for some other bloke, and now you’re asking yourself what you did wrong, aren’t ya?

“Well, let me tell you, drinking and drowning it all in alcohol isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. She’s an evil one, your girl, even left you a gift.” He walks over to the TV and hands Xander the card, keeping the box in hand.

While Xander is still trying to read the card through his tears, Spike has opened the box and popped one of the tapes into the VCR.

“Well, let’s see if she has better taste in videos than she did when leaving you!”

Pulling Xander with him, he settles them comfortably on the couch, the dark-haired man resting half across his lap, nodding appreciatively when the credits open to the soundtrack of ‘Dirty Pictures’.

Oh, good one, can’t go wrong with porn that uses the Radio Stars as soundtrack, he thinks and settles further into the cushions, aware of the warm body close to his, but in a good way. If he plays his cards right, he might even get some fun out of this.

Xander is still trying to make sense of the card, the dirty punk rock completely bypassing his brain, as his hand reaches inside the bag he dropped next to the couch. Pulling out one of the bottles unseeing, he twists of the lid and takes a long pull straight from the bottle.

He doesn’t even realise what is happening on screen until the bottle is finished, and when the fact that he is actually watching porn with Spike finally penetrates his brain, he simply reaches for the next one without a glance at either bag or vampire.

Spike watches him with growing amusement and admiration. Xander empties the bottle without ever raising it from his lips, and he wonders what else he might be able to do with that ability to work around the need to breathe through his mouth. He is almost sure the fact that they are watching gay porn hasn’t even reached Xander’s brain yet.

When Xander discards the empty bottle and goes for the next, Spike picks it up and looks at the label. Eggnog. The non-alcoholic kind. He wonders if Xander is aware that he bought the kiddie stuff, but from the way he is pouring it down his throat, he can’t be sure. At least it seems that Xander has finally realised they are watching porn, as his pants have grown much tighter and his face and neck are slightly flushed with arousal.

Spike thinks that it can’t be comfortable like that, so he reaches around and smoothly pops the button on Xander’s pants, then lowers the zipper until the hard cock underneath pushes out the tented front of his boxers.

“You look warm, pet,” Spike murmurs, and starts to unbutton Xander’s shirt. He is delighted to find that he somehow lost the wife beater he was wearing earlier and lets his fingers wander over warm tanned skin.

Xander isn’t really paying attention to anything except the cool liquid sliding down his throat, waiting for the alcohol to kick in. The low moans from the screen combined with the cool hands wandering over his body lull him into a haze, until he notices that the second bottle is empty as well.

Meanwhile, Spike has pushed the shirt off his shoulders and is working his way back down Xander’s chest, hands intend on freeing the straining cock from its confinement.

His hands are already poised at the waistband when Xander drops the empty bottle to the floor and realises what is going on. The two men fucking enthusiastically on the tiny screen penetrate first, then the coolness all along his side and back and around his waist reveals itself to be the walking undead, and he suppresses a very unmanly shriek.

Turning his head to really look at Spike, he is surprised to see only lust and passion in his eyes, none of the ridicule he expected from the Big Bad. Then one of the evil hands steals inside his boxers and firmly grasps his erection, pulling a moan from his lungs and making him forget all about his protests and how he really doesn’t think he is gay, no matter what Anya claimed before leaving him.

Spike gently lowers the boxers and pauses a moment to enjoy the sight. Xander is stretched out on the couch, feet hanging over the side, head lolling against Spike’s shoulder, hands fisted loosely at his sides. His skin is flushed with arousal, and the musky scent of it curls around Spike’s nose, making him want to lick the boy all over.

He wraps one hand around the straining erection, using the other to gently brush the hair back from Xander’s forehead.

“Don’t worry, Xan, I’ll take good care of you, just enjoy it, nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun, there’s a good boy…” he whispers into Xander’s ear, soothing and encouraging him.

When he feels the first thrust of hips against his fist, he starts to stroke, keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand, and a steady stream of encouragements into Xander’s ear. “Yes, just like that, pet, work yourself against me, show me that you like it…”

He sweeps his thumb across the head on one upthrust, slickening his motion with the gathered precome. The resulting moan is delicious and he starts to repeat the motion on every second or third stroke.

Soon, Xander is a writhing mess in his arms, desperately chasing for release, and when he finally comes, arching his back then falling back to rest against Spike’s body, the bliss on his face catches Spike by surprise and pushes him over the edge without a single touch to his own cock.

They collapse onto the couch, panting for breath. Finally, Xander pulls slightly away, looking at the vampire.

“Erm,… can you tell me what that was all about, Spike?”

Spike is a bit embarrassed, but looks him straight into the eyes.

“Saw the videos Anya left for you, wanted you for a while now, but didn’t think I’d have a chance. Figured that if I didn’t take a risk now, I’d never know… You gonna kick me out now?”

The look of contrition and sadness softens Xander. He thinks back on the last few hours, the cookies, the sex, the eggnog that didn’t kick in…

“Nah, but care to tell me what happened with the eggnog? I don’t feel drunk or even slightly tipsy…”

Spike dares a tiny smirk. “Must have grabbed the wrong bottles, pet. Wasn’t a drop of alcohol in it.”

“Oh well, guess that means I’ll actually get to remember this in the morning. No wait it is morning, I…”

Any further words are stopped by firm cool lips attaching themselves to his mouth, a slick tongue gently prodding for entrance. When Spike pulls back, they are both panting again, hair messed up and Spike’s clothes all mussed.

“What do you say, Xander, want to give this a try? I promise lots of fun, and I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

Xander thinks about it for a second, then a long drawn out moan draws his attention to the TV were two men are still fucking, face to face and obviously enjoying it. He thinks he wouldn’t mind to see if it’s really as much fun as they make believe.

“Think you can make me feel like that, Spike?” he challenges.

Spike glances briefly at the screen, then back at the dark haired man in front of him.

“I can make you feel things that will make those two look like dry white bread!” he promises. Pulling Xander up from the couch, he proceeds to kiss him senseless, then turns the couch back into a bed and shows Xander just how good it can feel.

*** *** *** *** *** ***

In the back room of the magic box, two women share a smile across a wide bowl of water.

“It all worked perfectly.” Anya remarks.

“Yes,” Willow agrees, “the videos were a nice touch, though.”

Anya actually blushes at the compliment. “Well, I never would have thought of binding the spell to gingerbread. And using it to keep them warm and fresh at the same time was ingenious.”

They smile at each other, then turn back to the bowl to observe their friends having hot and dirty sex. Who ever said they weren’t allowed to have some voyeuristic fun of their own?

END

FANTASY

Smallville - Clark/Lex

Author: C. M. Decarnin
Title: Presents
Date: December , 2004
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A taste of hot mulled Clex.
Disclaimer: TPTB: Christmas is a time for giving. Hint, hint.
Feedback address: mog@pacific.net
Note: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC.htm
"Presents" is a fairly independent section of a much longer story called "Shoreline" that won't be done for quite a while, certainly not *this* calendar year!

PRESENTS

Getting dressed in Lex's bedroom still felt strange. Secretly, it was kind of thrilling. Like they lived together and they were getting ready to go to work in the morning.

But it also always meant goodbye.

At first, it had seemed only natural that he had to drive -- or sneak -- back home. That was how kids always lived, in the interstices between prescribed activities and parental presence.

Now he sat on the bed and tied his shoes. And looked over at Lex who had just pulled his socks on. They locked eyes.

"I don't want to go," he heard himself saying.

"But you have to?"

"Yeah." Even he had been having to do some creative time management to get his chores and homework all done. Lex reached over and took his hand. They sat there, wordless in the poignancy of their age difference and all that it meant.

There was nothing to do but stand up and pick up his jacket. Lex got his shoes on, glancing at the window where snow still fell in a hushed special whiteness of the light. "I'll drive you."

Clark could go much faster by himself. But at least they could be together a few more minutes.

Wretchedly, he wound his arms around Lex's silk sweater and held tightly.

"Come on," Lex said after a few moments. "Don't make me have to kick your ass out of here."

Clark looked sad at him. "You'd kick my ass?

"Literally, not so much as... maybe nibble it pretty hard."

Lex's body felt so good in supple knitted silk that it was even harder to let go than usual. He nuzzled Lex's cheek, and felt Lex's breathing slow. "God, Clark."

Drooping, Clark let Lex pull him out into the hall and down to the garage. As they buckled in in the silver Porsche, the garage door slowly raised, revealing the ghostly falling snow. One of the luxuries Clark still noticed, reminder of the chasm between them: Lex's cars were always parked nose-out, so Lex never had to back out of the garage, even though he left them parked nose-in when he drove cars in there himself. Like so much else in his life, it was taken care of.

They skidded a couple of times on the snow before Lex accepted that winter driving parameters were implacably in force.

Clark sneaked his window down a crack to get a whiff of exciting snowy air. He smiled innocently over at Lex who looked at him out of the corners of his eyes.

"It's almost Christmas," Clark said. "Are you going to put up lights this year?"

"No one would see them but you and the servants."

"You'd see them."

Lex just smiled. "Where did you tell your parents you were today?"

"Pete's." And he had been. For about twenty minutes.

Lex nodded. It meant he'd let Clark off out of sight of the house instead of pulling up by the back door. Sometimes he told them the truth, hoping they'd gradually acclimate to his spending more time at Lex's, since it was too cold to hang out in the loft. Maybe by spring...

If Dad only knew. How hard he'd had to work to get Lex to give in and go to bed with him. He smiled again, with triumph and tingling excitement. His lover! Lex was his *lover*! This time Lex, glancing over, smiled back spontaneously at his over-the-top happiness, not having to ask what it was about. The Porsche fishtailed a little and Lex put his mind back on the road. There was hardly any traffic, it being a Saturday when people didn't have to force themselves out onto the snowy roads before the snowplows came around. There was a frisson of adventure being out in it with Lex, any approaching cars and pickups blurred a little at first by the thick-falling whiteness.

A short adventure.

Lex pulled up in their usual spot and Clark got out quickly, not wanting passing neighbors to see the Porsche there. He leaned down and waved through the window, Lex made an air-kiss and then revved back onto the road. Clark watched the silver vehicle until it turned and was out of sight; tempted to run after it and make sure Lex made it home okay.

He smiled, and slogged up the road till he got to the Kent mailbox.

There were Mom and Dad's usual bills and circulars, but also a package addressed to him. He looked at the return address and yelled, "*Yes*!" before he thought about it. He checked around self-consciously, and made himself not superspeed to the house with it, in case anyone in the very few nearby houses happened to be birdwatching with binoculars. Practically everyone in the country had a birdfeeder, and you just never knew. He stomped and shook off on the winter porch around back and again inside where they hung coats and shucked boots. He'd meant to go straight out to help his Dad but he just had to look first.

He could smell baking. It led him without thought.

"Hi, Mom. I got the mail." He laid it on the part of the kitchen table not covered in mixing bowls and cooling racks. "Are any of these for us?" Muffins were generally verboten but he had hopes for the chocolate chip cookies.

"Sorry, honey, I got an order from the Colesons."

Clark smiled anyway and started opening the small box.

"What did you get?" his Mom asked.

Clark shook the rolled-up t-shirt out and laid it on the table. "It's Lex's Christmas present."

She looked at it upside down, pausing in the splodging of more cookie-dough onto a baking tray. "What is it?"

"It's from a movie he likes. I found it on-line."

It was perfect.

"Does Lex ever wear t-shirts?"

Clark grinned. "He may frame it."

His mother nodded, with an expression that lumped billionaires and teenage boys into a single aberrant sect. "I think your Dad could use some help."

"Yeah, I'll go right out."

He dropped the t-shirt off in his room, and went down and got into boots and a down jacket, and tromped out into the silent snow. They'd have to hook the snowplow onto the front of the tractor so he could clear the driveways and the back lane, and they usually plowed out a couple of neighbors who didn't have their own equipment. If it kept on like this he'd have to do it all again in the morning, but it was a lot easier if you didn't let it get deep. After dark when nobody could see him he'd shovel the walks and steps at superspeed. Since his Dad had broken his leg he'd had more of a sense of being responsible for his parents -- how fragile they were, how unthinkably mortal. He tried to channel it into action instead of worry. He had insisted on taking over both morning and evening milking regardless of his Dad's arguments. He'd brooked no denial. But the pre-dawn alarm clock had become a hated enemy and he gave blissful thanks that the last milker had finally gone dry. By the time the herd came into milk again Dad should be in shape to gradually take over. Still, he'd realized once and for all that both his parents did more work than even the other hardworking farmers around, old-fashioned equipment saving them tens of thousands of dollars, but taking its toll. He felt that the dairy operation was the worst because you couldn't let it slide at all, not the milking, not the cleaning, not the care of the animals. He wasn't milking now, for instance, but in this weather the cows would be indoors and there'd be a whole lot of shoveling to do.

Still, he couldn't keep from smiling when he had to blink snowflakes off his eyelashes. It was almost Christmas, everything was going to be okay, and he had the perfect present for Lex.


***


Christmas night before dawn he whooshed to a stop under Lex's balcony.

Hard as he had tried, he hadn't ever been able to make himself float on purpose.

He was getting darn good at jumping, though.

He sprang up to the balcony railing and as quietly as he could, climbed over, and left his brightly wrapped package close in by Lex's glass doors under the overhang, though it wasn't supposed to snow any more tonight.

Then he jumped back down, eyed the line-of-sight of the railing as he walked out into the fresh white, decided on a good spot, and lay down.


***


Lex rolled over in bed luxuriously. Christmas morning. Yesterday he had put in the obligatory appearance at his father's annual Christmas party for the rich and worthless, and for some reason this year almost everyone there had seemed even more inane, spoiled, and boring than he remembered. And he had had to speak personally to them all. Every. Last. One.

But today was all his own. He would see Clark.

His eyes opened in a smile. He pushed back the covers and got up and opened the drapes. White snow-light reflected from the Christmas-card white vista that was his view. Something red caught his eye and he looked down. Just outside his balcony doors was a Christmas present!

Instantly he knew it must be from Clark. How had he got it up here?

Carefully he opened one door and picked up the package. The paper was red with blue ribbon and a big yellow bow, and there was a note attached. It said, "Look down."

There was nothing else on the balcony. Lex stepped to the railing and looked over.

There. Down in the snow. A bird --

No, it was a snow-angel.

Spread wings and skirt impressed into the deep white. And red, in the middle of its chest, a big heart made of roses, their stems stuck down into the snow, blossoms full blown.

Clark.

Oh.

Clark.

He realized finally there was a huge grin on his face.

Clark.

His hands clutched the red package. His bare feet were freezing. But he continued to look down at the most beautiful message he had ever seen.

*I*'*m in love with a teenager*, his brain finally translated the sheer dazzle of zinging sensation. The very idea would have humiliated him if he'd been able to stop laughing, had anyone ever suggested it as his approaching fate. Love. It was a high indescribable. And Clark. Who was synonymous with love. He felt... carbonated. And happy. He was Lex-loving-Clark, a new thing under the sun.

Shivering with happy cold, he looked down at the present in his clutch. It was so pretty he didn't want to open it, wrapped by Clark's own hands. Yet, inside was something Clark had also touched, and had meant just for him. With a last gaze down at the rose-hearted angel, he tore himself from the balcony, closed the door, and found his room's ambient temperature significantly chilly now. He sat cross-legged on the bed to thaw his icy feet. It might prove clever to start keeping a pair of slippers by the balcony doors.

Carefully he detached all the ribbon and bits of Scotch tape. Inside the paper was a dark plastic bag, for weather protection he surmised. Out of it he pulled a black t-shirt with white lettering. He unfolded it, and laughed spontaneously. Across it was written "Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems".

Without thinking he dived for his phone and hit speed-dial.

"Clark! I love it!" Even as he said it other feelings were catching up with him. It was... watching the movie with him, that had been the first night Clark had... Oh.

It was... like an anniversary present.

That other dimension entered his smile and his voice.

"I'm glad you like it," Clark was saying. "It's kind of an antique."

"It's the best present I ever got." It was. Incomparably. That someone had cared enough about what *he* liked, not what they wanted him to become. And cared so centrally about being with him as to mark the event... "I love you Clark."

"Me too." He knew from the tone and phrasing Clark's parents were near him.

"Oh -- I didn't mean to interrupt your Christmas morning. You're opening presents?"

"Just about to." He could hear the smile in Clark's voice.

"I'll see you later then. I..." What did you say about an angel in the snow with a heart like a Valentine? "I loved the angel too."

They said good-bye and Lex sat there thinking. How Clark had made him so happy without even being there, had made his day a happy one, his Christmas...

His life...


***


When Clark leaned his head around the door of the office and looked this way and that, his expression made Lex's lips quirk. "The coast is clear. Don't worry, I would have warned you if my father were going to be here."

Clark's cheeks, pink from the cold, got a little more blush to them as he came on in. "I didn't want to interrupt if -- you know. Christmas and all."

"A Luthor family moment? Those you'd hear long before you got to the doorway."

Smiling, Lex met him half-way and kissed him, having seen his green eyes flick down and take in that he was wearing the t-shirt. He loved how Clark smiled as he was being kissed, and then pulled him closer and murmurred, "I didn't realize you'd also look really hot in it. Bonus for me."

"You realize I'm probably going to have it archivally preserved."

Clark giggled. It was the only word for it. Jesus God, *sixteen*.

The giggle ended up against Lex's neck, tickling, and he flinched a little and Clark's hand settled in above his hip and all of a sudden it was Christmas in several other meanings of the term. Hot breath and warm skin and cold outerwear in his arms, over the utter warmth and strength of Clark's body, the gentleness of his kiss and his touch, all-encompassing embrace lulling Lex into what was almost -- almost -- surrender. The most weirdly thrilling sensation of his lifetime, one he had never experienced before he started feeling it with Clark. Unbelievably dirty and lewd and luscious. And holy.

"Open your present first," he admonished without conviction.

And Clark whispered, "I am"; and Lex felt his warm fingers edging up under the precious t-shirt. Firm on his skin.

He bent inward like a bow against immovable Clark.

"Did I mention the servants have the week off?"

Clark looked concerned. "You'll starve."

"They left me frozen things in little casserole dishes." He could see how Clark's heart smote him at the thought of his being so alone on Christmas Day. "They're good," he offered.

"Yeah, well, not today."

He had been trying to avoid that thought. It was a ceremonial observance Clark seemed bent on, the lorn singleton being drawn into the circle of family for holiday warmth, the one day when he had tradition on his side to bring Lex into his home.

Sooner or later they had to get used to him, he supposed.

"What time do we have to be there?"

"In about an hour. Sorry I couldn't come earlier, I'm trying to do everything for Dad. I don't want him out there breaking his other leg on the ice."

"You are a model son."

Clark grinned. "I keep telling them that."

"I could provide a testimonial. 'Speaking as someone who has known Clark in every sense of the word..'"

"Yeah, that'll work."

"We'd better not be late today of all days."

"I guess not." Clark looked charmingly disappointed.

Lex leaned in and breathed, "So if we're going to fuck we'd better go up to my room and do it fast and hard."

Clark went paralyzed in his arms, except for the harder breathing.

"So we can shower off really quick and get off all the sweat and cum and saliva --" And Clark was pulling him by the hand out the door.

They hit the bed like a ton of bricks but Lex immediately commanded, "Clothes *off*." He didn't want to bring Clark into the Kent house with mysteriously ripped and rumpled clothing. He had a weird tendency to tear things even when it didn't seem like he was being all that abandoned. Clark seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he unzipped and divested with conscious care. Watching him get more and more naked, Lex realized his mouth had slowly fallen open. It was always the same. Clark hardly looked real. He looked like an ideal male of the human species. Every proportion more beautiful than could be imagined until you saw him. And every time he bent or turned, it just revealed a different perfect vision. It wasn't sexy, it was -- religious.

What was sexy was green eyes finding Lex's hands stalled halfway down the buttons of his shirt, and looking up into Lex's naked face.

Okay the half-hard cock reddening at the tip was sexy too.

Clark stepped over and started helping get Lex's clothes off and suddenly, he was the god of sex. And Lex was the virgin object of his intention. Trembling so hard Clark had to pull the band of his underwear out and down over his awkwardly stiffening organ to get him naked. Clark threw the covers back with a single one-handed gesture so they could have the soft sheets, and had retrieved lube out of the endtable by the time he bore Lex down onto the bed, and was massaging his opening slipperily before he could do more than gasp. Then Clark's whole body spread his legs wide and Clark's big hand was guiding hot, thick, hard length into him. The hand withdrew and Clark thrust deep. Lex cried wordlessly. For an instant, he felt he didn't want this. It was too much. Then Clark thrust again and his body convulsed, out from his prostate like a bomb-blast. Another bang hit him in the same spot. Oh -- god. Oh -- *god*. His hands pressed for leverage at Clark's shoulders so he could arch... arch... into him... be him... be the thing that was devastating ecstasy taking him over. "No," he whispered. And Clark's hand was flat on his cock, pressing it up against Clark's moving belly while Clark moaned and wildly thrust him full, and again, and again and again forcing the orgasm open into waves of heat and sweetness sweeping him, crucifying him with electric paralysis every time Clark's cock buried in his target. Cries torn from him. Every time it hit him he thought it had to be the last, but his lover tirelessly thrust pleasure into him and he kept on coming even though he had long since shot his semen all over them both and Clark's hand had pulled out. It was against the mattress. Between his thighs he felt Clark's body gathering, and then he was pounding harder, bruising, insistent, too fast and heavy for Lex to do anything but ride it, the deepness of Clark's penetration into his soul complete as he finally came and pulsed his orgasmic essence inside Lex. He would swear he could feel it, like a tiny meteor shower. Clark moaned and rocked with the pleasure. Slowly he stopped, and Lex's nerves and muscles gave a last shimmer, and let him collapse, breathing like a racehorse. Clark slowly slid out, and off him, and onto the bed. He looked as stunned as Lex felt.

Lex got up on one elbow, knowing in two more seconds he would be asleep if he let himself. Clark, panting, was covered with sweat and cum just as he had foretold, though they hadn't had time for any saliva -- Lex leaned over and lavished his tongue along Clark's wet pectoral. It tasted sharp and salt -- with near the nipple a spritz of cum. He leaned up to kiss at Clark's panting lips.

Clark was still looking amazed, and a little dubious. They stared at each other for a moment.

"You did say fast and hard," Clark offered meekly.

Lex tried to hold it back but it was no use. He burst out laughing and fell across Clark's chest, helpless.


***


It was a long tube lying on the coffee table. The wrapping paper was black with swathes of glittering stars. Silver ribbon in a long elegant helix held down a small silver card. 'For Clark,' it read, 'Merry Christmas. Lex.'

"It's beautiful."

Lex smiled. They were dressed and clean and Clark looked perfectly innocent. "Open it."

Carefully Clark detached a minute bow sealing one end and eased the paper back enough to screw the cap off the metal tube. When he tilted it, rolled paper slid out, tied with wide silk ribbons. Clark glanced at him wide-eyed and loosened the bands. On the bare coffee table the roll opened beneath his careful hands. Clark gasped. It was a star map. But not just any map. Clark had wished, once, that there were such a thing as a map showing the known celestial objects not as they looked from Earth, but as they would lie in an outside view. Lex had looked and indeed finding no such map available, had commissioned one from an assembled team of astronomers and cartographers. They had explained why the task was technically impossible and Lex had explained how much he was willing to pay for it.

The result was beautiful. Sweeping across a dark background, tilted only enough to show the separate arms, lay their galaxy of stars, made to look like a photograph rather than a stark chart. In the section that was unrolled he could see the locations of many named stars indicated, with tiny print giving their mysterious particulars. In outer areas lay dozens of dim objects, far galaxies, also minutely labeled. It was not, needless to say, to scale, but you couldn't have everything. Apparently. The paper was very wide and much too long to unroll all at once on the table, but Clark unrolled sections, like a Chinese scroll, as he kept saying, "Oh, Lex!" at each new revelation. Around the border were small photos of nebulae, galaxies, the planets and moons, framing it in a band of color interspersed with facts and figures. Clark's eyes were shining. He let the two scroll-ends roll together and enveloped Lex in a huge hug.

"Thank you!" Clark's voice was actually both excited and a little choked with emotion. "It's so wonderful!"

It was, it definitely was. Anything that could make Clark's eyes sparkle with such awe and happiness, Lex would -- forever -- call wonderful.


***

End

BOOKS

Lord of the Rings - Glorfindel/Elrond

Author: Starkindler
Title: A Celebration of Life
Date: December 24
Fandom: Lord of the Rings/Books
Pairing: Glorfindel/Elrond
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Elrond's day of conception is cause for celebration at Imladris.
Disclaimer: Alas, the characters and places in this story are not mine. They belong to the Tolkien Estate, and I’m only playing with them for fun.
Feedback address: nufaciel@yahoo.com or starkindler76@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Beta: Drusilla and Eowyn


Elrond's vacant eyes slowly regained their awareness as the scent of fresh bread, honey, and apple tarts assaulted his senses. As he became aware of his surroundings, he closed his eyes and stretched. When he opened them again, he was blessed with the vision of golden beauty shining brightly before him.

He winced as Glorfindel stepped out of the sunlight. 'I thought that Arien had brought the Sun down to warm me with its pleasant heat, but 'tis only you,' Elrond said in a teasing tone.

'How amusing you are this morning, Elrond,' Glorfindel chuckled as he set the tray down on the bed. 'Move over,' he said to Elrond as he tried to slide into bed. 'You always take up the entire bed.'

'It is my bed, so I may take up as much of it as I wish,' he said in a lordly manner as he reached for the tray. 'Who invited you here?'

'You did, my Lord Elrond,' Glorfindel replied. Elrond grinned as the blond elf placed a light kiss on his temple. 'Who else would deign to bring such a testy Elven-lord breakfast in bed?'

'No one but you, my love,' Elrond said as he pulled the tray onto his lap and picked up an apple tart. 'I did not mean to sleep so late into the morning.'

'It matters not,' Glorfindel said as he plucked a small loaf and the