ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 21

Enchantment by MadByrd

CLARK/LEX

Title: Suit Yourself
Author: reetchick
Category: Established Relationship, Humor
Rating: oh, heck. R for language, I guess.
Disclaimer: All characters contained herein are property of DC, TRB, and WB. I don’t own them, I make no money off of them; pretty much the only thing I get from them is a rich and fulfilling fantasy life. (Um. Was that too much information?)
Author’s Notes: Slodwick’s excellent “SSDD” and Beth’s Meglo series each partially inspired the Clark and Lex you’ll find here. Not that I claim this drabble is as entertaining as either of the above, of course.
Beta: Thanks once again to the always superb Moss. He makes my stuff better; plus, this time, he produced a succinct title. Also to philtre, both for the beta and for the loan. <grin>
Feedback: I write more when I get it. daga8922@cox.net 

***
Setting his keys on the table in the penthouse foyer, Lex picked up the note that was waiting for his attention.

Clark’s concise handwriting, just a few lines long. L -- Mom called. She needed me to stop over to pick up something she made. Back for a late dinner. Love, C

Lex smiled, folding the note and tucking it into his breast pocket

Walking into the great room to pour himself a drink, Lex shook his head at the “gift” from Lionel that had been delivered the day before – two fruitcakes, one slightly larger than the other.

It was almost touching, Lex thought, that Lionel would take the time to pick out such a personal gift for him and Clark, now that he was enjoying his retirement in a country with no extradition treaties with the United States.

Lex kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the balcony of the penthouse, gazing at the sky, waiting for the red and blue blur headed towards him from the direction of Smallville.

It wasn’t long before he noticed something moving in a very familiar, far-too-fast-to-be-human way. But something was…off. Not right. He squinted, trying to resolve the mystery before Clark landed, in a flash of red and –

Green.

Not red and blue, but red. And green.

Lex went over his mental Clark checklist. Bright red boots? Check. Billowing red cape? Check. Head-to-toe Spandex? Check. Head-to-toe Spandex in blue?

No check.

Everything that was normally blue on the uniform was now, somehow, green. Not even a decent shade of hunter green, but a garish, god-awful Christmassy green.

Clark opened his mouth as if to say something, but Lex cut him off with one small hand gesture. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, blowing the air out through tight lips. Making sure to modulate his voice, Lex then uttered the all-important question to his lover: “What. The fuck. Are you wearing?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Clark dove into his explanation. Obviously he’d spent the entire three minutes of the flight home preparing for this, Lex thought wryly.

“Mom made it,” Clark began. “You know she’s kind of been at loose ends since your dad… retired, and her latest thing is sewing. Anyway, she thought that maybe, you know, for the holidays, it’d be nice if I wore something a little more,” and here he paused to clear his throat, “seasonal.”

Lex slammed his glass down on the patio table with a loud clanking noise. “Seasonal? This is her idea of seasonal? This thing is a fucking nightmare, Clark.”

Clark actually managed to look affronted at that remark. “It’s not really that bad, Lex. It’s a very festive green, and I think the fringe on the cape sort of – “

Lex reached out to spin the other man around, the better to view the previously mentioned fringe, which was, indeed, there, dangling merrily from the edge of the cape.

He spun Clark to face him again, picking out more of the fine details that had escaped his notice before. White, Santa-esque fuzz at the cuffs. A small sprig of holly on each clasp of the cape. And the “S” emblazoned across Clark’s chest – which was now striped like a candy cane, swirly red and white – seemed puffier.

Clark noticed Lex staring at the “S” and grinned. “Go ahead, press it,” he said, sounding far too excited about the prospect. Against his better judgment, Lex extended one finger and reluctantly poked his lover in the chest. He immediately regretted doing so when he heard the tinny strains of “Jingle Bells” emanating from the suit.

Lex sank into his chair, placing his head in his hands so he could rub his suddenly throbbing temples. “Come on, Lex,” Clark said in his very best come-on-Lex voice. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

It had been a long time since Lex had looked quite so irritated, Clark thought nervously. “Not that bad? Not that bad?” Lex stood up, pushing Clark by the shoulders until he plunked down in the seat across from Lex.

“It is bad. It’s very bad, Clark. You look like a goddamn elf school drop-out,” Lex snarled. “Couldn’t you suggest to Martha that one of your League friends would appreciate her efforts? Have her lighten up Bruce’s thing, replace the bat with a partridge in a pear tree? Switch the Flash’s lightning bolt for a menorah? Talk the Green Lantern into being the ‘Red and Green Lantern’ for a few weeks?”

Clark furrowed his brow and scratched his nose contemplatively. “I didn’t know Wally was Jewish.”

Lex sighed in exasperation. “I think you’re missing my point, here, Clark.”

“No, no, I get the point,” Clark pouted. “You hate the outfit, and you think I look like a doofus.” He shuffled towards the doors, muttering, “Should’ve known better, it was a lousy idea.”

“Wait just a second,” Lex snapped, quickly moving to intercept his lover. “Exactly whose idea was this monstrosity, anyway?” Clark flushed and averted his eyes from Lex’s face, petulantly looking down and to his left.

Nodding with understanding, Lex reached out to take Clark’s hand. “You designed this yourself, didn’t you?” he guessed, valiantly struggling to contain his amusement. “And you asked Martha to make it for you.”

“S’posed to be cute,” Clark mumbled, and started chewing on his bottom lip.

Clark’s vulnerable, kicked-puppy look had always been Lex’s undoing. He snuck an arm under the cape, circling Clark’s waist as he led them to their bedroom. “It’s all right, babe,” Lex soothed. “Let’s just go and get this thing off, and if you want to talk about having a new style of uniform made, we can do that.”

That seemed to lift Clark’s mood. “Really?” he brightened, casting a hopeful glance at Lex.

“Sure, sweetheart,” his lover answered. “We can give Eduardo a call in the morning. He’ll be able to help us think of something.” So long as he never catches sight of this horror, Lex thought with a shudder – their tailor might not live through a viewing of such a lurid fashion nightmare.

“Lex?”

“Yes?”

A sniffle. “Do you think I’m a doofus?”

Lex thought for a moment. “Maybe just a little bit of a doofus,” he finally admitted. “But you’re my doofus, and that’s what matters.” He squeezed Clark around the waist, wanting to get rid of his lover’s hangdog look.

“Hey,” Lex suggested. “Would it make you feel any better if we brought the whipped cream with us?”

Clark sucked in an eager breath. “And the sprinkles, too?”

“Absolutely,” Lex agreed, and made a detour for the kitchen. If Clark was going to insist on celebrating the holiday by wearing red and green, Lex was willing to be supportive of such efforts.

Particularly when he could lick them off once they were through.

~~the end~~

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: Eggnog
Author: Kayla
RATING: R, again with the possible NC-17 for innuendo
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I have a plan. See, when Santa shows up, I'll hold his reindeer hostage until he forks the boys over. :)
Note: Sequel to 'Mistletoe'. Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
Feedback Email address: kayla6978@aol.com

EGGNOG

"Merry Christmas, Xander."

"Hey, you too Buffster."

"The party's turned out pretty good, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, no apocalypse happenings or attempted opening of the Hellmouth. All in all, I'd rate it a success."

"Right. Soooo, Xander."

"Umm, yeah?"

"That, um, *thing* with Spike earlier..."

"There was no *thing*."

"Yeah, but, you guys were kinda...naked. And--"

"*No* *thing*, Buffy. I am in firm denial and have successfully managed to repress...whatever may have happened. There. Was. No. Thing."

"Oh. Ok. Well...I'm just gonna go...talk to Willow for a minute. Um, later."

"Later. ...Damn it, where's the eggnog? Why didn't anyone remember to bring the eggnog!"

"Here luv."

"Ahhh! Get away from me!"

"Geez, what's got you so jumpy, mate?

"What?! You-you-you- Argh! Leave me alone!"

"Fine, be like that. I'll just take my eggnog and go."

"...you have eggnog?"

"Uh-huh."

"...oh..."

"Oh for-- stop with the puppy eyes! Here! Git."

"Oooh, yummy."

"..."

"Spike? This tastes kinda strange."

"...you have an eggnog mustache."

"Oh. That better?"

"...tongue..."

"Um, Spike?"

"Huh? What? What are you starin' at?"

"...nothing. Um, got any more eggnog?"

"Sure. Brought my own stash."

"Mmmm. Thanks. This is really good. Has a bit of an odd flavor, but it's good."

"Yeah, well, spiced it up myself. More?"

"Thanks. What'd you put in it?"

"Little of this, little of that. Mostly alcohol, though."

"'Cause, y'know, it's *really* good. You are...oh, thanks, god this is good! You are a real pal, Spike. Not everyone would share their delicious eggnog with...with...well, me."

"Well, I'm just that kind of guy."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're a really...pretty guy."

"....er, yeah."

"Hmmm. Did you know you're eyes are *really* blue?"

"I've heard. You ok?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy keen! Can't a man tell his bestest guy friend how incredibly hot he is?"

"Usually only if he wants to get his arse walloped."

"Oooh, you already did that earlier though, didn't you? You big, naughty vamp you."

"Gaaahhh."

"Mmm, you taste good."

"Aaaahhhh.... X-Xan? This is--"

"Oh god. You two are at it again? Giles! Xander and Spike are molesting each other on the dining room table! Make them stop!"

"...I did not just hear that. I did not just *see* that. I'm going to go into the other room now."

"Giles! You wimp!"

"Mmmm, Spike..."

"Mmmm, Xander..."

"Guys! Stop it! You can't...oh. Ooooohhh. Wow..."

"Buffy? Are you coming back...oh. Oh wow."

"Yuh-huh."

"You think they're gonna get naked?"

"We can hope--no! Dawn! Close your eyes! Out! Shoo!"

"But Buffy! I wanna watch the cute guys make out, too!

"We are *not* watching them--oh. Oooohhh. That's...ah! Out! Dawnie! Out now!"

"But--!"

"We. Are. Leaving!"

"Aww, shoot!"

"Xan? Let's take this back to your place, yeah?"

"Mmmmmm....'kay."

~~~~~~

"Oh god. Harder! Xan! *Harder*!"

"Spike...oh man, you're so tight. Ugh!"

"Fuck! Right there! Do that again!"

"Like...*oh*...this?"

"Ahh! Yes! Yesyesyes!"

"Oh god...oooohhhh god..."

"Aaahhhhhh!"

"Oh! Oooohhhhh! Uh!"

"..."

"..."

"Shift over, luv. You're bloody heavy."

"Mrphle? Hmmm."

"You snore an' I'm kicking you onto the floor."

"Shhhgood. Pr'ty vamp. Mmm, skin. Cool. S'nice."

"Xan?"

"Mmmmm..."

"...Xan? Angel is standing in the doorway dressed in a purple spotted muumuu."

"...mmm, s'nice..."

"Heh. Night pet."

"Ni' Spike. Ni' Ange..."

~~~~~~

"Hullo pet. Wakey, wakey!"

"Huh? Wazzt?"

"Fancy a nice early morning Christmas shag?"

"...erk? S-Spike? What are you...oh. Shit."

"Not my thing. How 'bout a blow job instead?"

"...Oh god. Buffy was right. Oh!"

"Hmmmm?"

"Eeep! Ahhhh...ohhh..."

"Mmmmm."

"...wha? Don't stop!"

"Right 'bout what?"

"She said...there was a thing...with us."

"Heh. Yeah. It's a pretty nice thing too, innit? Mmmm..."

"Fuck!"

Finit
 

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Dreams and Lights
Author: jm
Series: ST: TOS
Pairing: K/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: They find out things about each other, and their needs, with some outside help.
Disclaimer: They belong to Paramount. I'm just taking them out to play. No harm intended. Not for profit, of course.
Beta: Sara, who had her hands full with this story. She did so much! Thank you, you are the best! :-)
Notes: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://kardasi.com/Advent/ 
These * around a word are for emphasis. These ::: ::: are for someone's thoughts. The idea for this came from the ep. "Shore Leave". This is an alt. timeline, where the crew have never discovered the "Shore Leave planet", and are coming upon my version of it for the first time. My very first K/S! This would never have been if it hadn't been for my fabulous beta, Sara, who challenged me to it. And thanks for all the great stories, K/S'ers! What a daunting genre to enter into!
E-mail: itsjustjm@yahoo.com  (send feedback if you'd like)

DREAMS AND LIGHTS

"I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start Be still my beating heart"
--Sting, "Be Still My Beating Heart"

Captain James T. Kirk was contemplating a problem. For quite awhile now, he slowly realized that his feelings for his first officer, Mr. Spock, were building. He felt for Spock something more than the camaraderie, easy friendship and loyalty that tends to come with any tight-knit crew.

:::He fascinates me. He's incredibly strong, both mentally and physically. Immensely intelligent, I am never bored with him. His logical mind is just the thing to have around in a crisis. I treasure our friendship, and I think he does, too, in his own way. Spock can make me laugh without even meaning to, yet I do see a buried sense of humor at times. It's probably something only I would notice.:::

:::Honestly, I'd give my life for him, and I know he'd do the same. And while I'm being perfectly honest with myself, I've realized that I desire him as well.:::

:::So, why not try to bring our feelings out into the open? And at the same time, bring our friendship to a physical level as well. Now, I know I want it. The only problem is, getting him to realize he wants it, too. With Spock, that won't be easy. But I've never backed down from a challenge before.:::

Sitting back in his seat, he began to drum his fingers on the arm of his chair. His mind was busy turning over his dilemma. Not one to usually just let things happen, he was a man of action. Once he decided what he wanted, he went out and took it. And now he wanted Spock. He'd have to tread carefully here. He didn't want Spock to get suspicious before the trap was ready to spring. But how to go about it...

Sighing in frustration when nothing came to him immediately, he figured he might as well get some of the administrative duties that he'd been letting back up out of the way. With his dislike of them, he usually tried to leave these kinds of things to Spock. But now he figured that going over some paperwork might be just the thing to let his mind wander long enough to come up with an idea. He called to the computer at his desk to bring up his paperwork. He started to scan the words before him, already lost in the tedium. Quite some time passed in this fashion.

Suddenly he sat up straight in his chair. Then, he leaned forward towards the screen. A smile spread across his face. "Yes, that's it! Excellent! It's just what the doctor ordered. I can already imagine the possibilities. There will be no way for either of us to hide. I'm ready for it." Still grinning, Kirk rubbed his hands together in a satisfied, almost gleeful, manner.

Feeling immeasurably renewed now, Kirk burst up out of his chair, releasing some of his pent up energy. He began to pace his quarters. :::One of the reports said that we're due for a shore leave. Certainly I've seen signs of how tense the crew has become lately. And so, the only course of action would seem to be to seek out an earth-like planet,::: here a mischievous glint entered his eyes, :::and take a little R and R. Even Mr. Spock would have to agree with the logic of that. And, of course, with that communication I just read, I know of just the perfect place.::: He stopped pacing for a moment and let his lips curve up into what could be described as a wicked grin.

:::Now, the real question is, how do I get Spock to agree to accompany me down to the planet? Knowing Spock, he'll just want to stay and work. It's not likely that he will agree to a shore leave. I'm sure he'll report that he's operating at peak efficiency, like some kind of machine. Also, I wouldn't put it past him to point out that his idea of recreation is not what the rest of the crew would find entertaining. I've got to have a plan.:::

He turned and started pacing again; making another circuit of his quarters. :::Perhaps this doesn't have to be as difficult as I'm making it out to be. I could always try to appeal to our friendship. Tell Spock, in essence, the truth; that I *want* him to come along with me to the planet's surface. And that I would enjoy his company while taking a much needed shore leave for myself. If I make this all about me, instead of what he needs, I'm sure he won't be able to resist.:::

He stopped and went back to the computer at his desk, looking over the pertinent information once more. :::I've got to pull this off, I've just got to.::: Quickly he made a mental note of who would need what information from the communication. He determined that Spock would have to remain in the dark about the...details of this little upcoming shore leave.

Once he made sure of his information, he headed out of his quarters and off to Sickbay. Check one on his plan of attack. McCoy noticed him the moment he walked inside. "Why, hello there, Jim. You're not here to tell me you're sick, are you?" McCoy immediately approached the captain with a slight frown on his face.

"No, no. I actually came here to talk to you about something else. Sit down, put your mind at ease. I think you'll like what I have to say," Kirk replied. He attempted to put aside his worries about whether this was all going to work as he fixed a smile on his face.

"Alright then, I'm all ears," McCoy said as he took a seat and faced the captain.

"Bones, I'm sure you've noticed that the crew all seem a little tired lately. Short tempered, that sort of thing. What would be your...professional recommendation?"

"Well, Jim, I'd have to say that we're all probably long overdue for a shore leave."

"Exactly, exactly. And I have just the thing. You see, I've just received some information about a planet, a 'pleasure' planet, if you will, that seems perfectly suited to our needs. It's a place remarkably like earth, but with a major difference. On this planet, all your wishes become reality. Anything you think of becomes 'real', in a manner of speaking. It seems that the planet has the ability to sense one's thoughts, and give them form. Can you imagine the possibilities?" Kirk was still smiling, but it was a genuine smile, now.

"I don't know, Jim. Sounds almost too good to be true. Seems like it could have the potential to be dangerous."

"Actually, it's completely harmless. As long as you're aware of how your thoughts are affecting your environment, everything's fine. The planet has safeties', if you will, built in."

"Is that so? Well then, perhaps we'd better be heading on over to this planet without delay." McCoy was grinning now, too.

"Yes. There's just one thing, though."

"Isn't there always?" McCoy quirked an eyebrow upwards.

"It's Spock."

"And what does that walking computer have to do with us taking shore leave?" McCoy was openly curious now.

Kirk wanted McCoy on his side about getting Spock to take shore leave. He smiled slyly as he thought of an idea that the doctor wouldn't be able to resist. "That's just it," Kirk replied. "I can never convince him to come along with us when we go. I really think he needs to learn to loosen up. Experience how us humans do things. He is half human, after all."

"You'd never know it the way he acts. Actually, I agree with you. He could certainly do with a little 'humanizing'." It was the familiar light, teasing banter that they always seemed to engage in about Mr. Spock. But McCoy sensed his friend was entirely serious this time, and he was interested in what else Jim had to say on the matter.

"My plan is to somehow get Mr. Spock to accompany me down to the planet's surface and to actually experience some of the effects of the special 'nature' of the place. It could possibly do him a world of good."

"Or annoy the heck out of him," McCoy responded dryly.

"Well, I have no intention of telling him what the planet's capable of. I think it's best to leave him in the dark about that. This way we preserve the freeing aspects of the planet. And I want to really shake him up, surprise him. It won't work if he's anticipating it."

"He may not agree to go. I think you've got your work cut out for you, Jim."

"You just leave that to me, Bones. I'll take care of Mr. Spock. *You* have to make sure that none of the rest of the crew let spill to him about the full capabilities of the place."

"That would probably be best accomplished by not telling them until we reach the surface." McCoy shook his head and chuckled. "You know how hard it is for people to keep a secret."

"You're right. Good idea. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be heading to the bridge. My shift's about to start." Kirk gave the doctor a pat on the back as he turned to leave.

Despite the confidence he projected, his thoughts were still focused on how he was going to get Spock to come with him when they reached the planet. He figured he'd take them both off somewhere secluded from the others once they arrived. That way there would hopefully be no chance of Spock learning too quickly about what the planet had to offer. Plus, they might need the privacy. This last suddenly caused him to flush. A random thought popped into his head as he entered the bridge. :::You know, if this were any other person, this probably wouldn't matter as much.:::

As soon as he took his seat, he gave the order to Mr. Sulu to head towards the planet. "Course plotted and laid in, sir." The navigator was efficient, as always.

"Engage, Mr. Sulu. Warp factor three."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain." It was Spock's deep, resonant voice.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" Now Kirk was slightly amused. It seemed the human emotion of curiosity hadn't escaped his friend.

"May I enquire as to the reason for this course change?"

"You may, Mr. Spock." Kirk found it hard to suppress a grin. Had he always taken for granted how much he enjoyed even the simplest of things with his first officer?

"Captain," Spock allowed his voice to sound slightly puzzled here, nothing more, "are you attempting, as you humans term it, to 'make things difficult' for me?"

"Not at all, Spock. Why would you think that?" The affectionate teasing came easily to him. Did no one else notice how perceptive Spock could sometimes be when it came to human motivations? From a human's point of view, most of the time Spock completely missed the boat, but not always.

"You seem to be evading the answer to my question."

"Does it appear that way to you?" Kirk was enjoying this more and more.

"Indeed. I would not have said so otherwise."

"Well, Mr. Spock, the answer is simple. The crew is in need of a shore leave, and I'm set to give them one." The first officer walked over to stand behind the captain's chair. Kirk completely turned himself to face Spock as he spoke.

"May I commend you, captain? That is an excellent idea. Seeing as how the ship's occupants are suffering from stress and fatigue, a shore leave would be just the thing to alleviate their symptoms."

"And do you count me among those in need of stress relief, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes captain, I believe I do."

This was just the opening Kirk needed. Spock was thinking of his friend, and wanted him to take a shore leave. Now would come the tricky part of convincing Spock to go along. Suddenly, it occurred to Jim that maybe this would be better continued elsewhere. Spock, being Vulcan, didn't find it as easy discussing these matters in public as Kirk did.

"Ah, yes. Excellent point, Mr. Spock. But I'm not sure I agree with you. Perhaps we'll finish discussing this...later."

"Indeed." Spock returned to his station, his curiosity still slightly aroused.

"Mr. Sulu, how long until we reach the planet?"

"Estimated time of arrival in six hours, twenty minutes, sir."

"Very good. Mr. Spock, you have the bridge. I'm going to be preparing the crew rotations for shore leave. I'll be in my quarters if needed." Kirk couldn't wait to get off the bridge. He wanted to be alone to plan his strategy for getting closer to Spock once they had arrived on the planet. And, he had yet to get Spock to agree to come at all. Hopefully, if luck was on his side, everything would fall nicely into place. If not, well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

----

A disembodied voice broke the silence of his quarters while Kirk sat staring at the computer. "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

He got up and crossed to the wall with the comm panel. "Kirk here."

"Captain, we have reached our destination."

"Excellent. Please inform the crew that their leave schedules will be appearing on their computers. Have Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy meet me in the transporter room. Wait, on second thought, have Mr. Spock wait for me on the bridge. Kirk out."

He made for the bridge, planning on speaking with Spock about joining him on the way to the transporter room. While preparing the leave schedules (which took no time at all), Jim tried to put his mind to the task of planning out his own down time with Spock. When his mind kept shying away from forming any details about their trip, he figured that there must be a good reason. Perhaps the old adage that some things are better left unplanned applied here.

Spock was waiting at the science station. "You wished to see me, captain?"

"Yes, Spock. I'm heading to the transporter room now to beam to the surface. I want you to come with me." As Jim said this, he was walking towards the turbolift. Spock followed.

The doors closed behind them. Spock gave a barely preceivable frown. Kirk immediately caught the look.

"Well, you know I wasn't exactly planning on going to the surface. I'm not sure that it's really necessary. But, if you recommend it...well, I suppose I could be persuaded to go, on one condition." As they were riding in the turbolift, he smugly thought to himself how he smoothly managed to get Spock to at least go with him to the transporter room.

"What might that be?" Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain.

"That you accompany me when I go, of course." Kirk gave Spock a smile.

"I do not understand how this is an obvious solution to your reluctance to take shore leave."

"Why not? I mean, you don't actually expect me to enjoy myself down there all alone, do you? We've often taken recreation together, Mr. Spock, if you recall. Played chess, that sort of thing. And now I'm asking you to share with me what would otherwise be a pointless little romp. How does that strike you?"

"I am not sure. Not being subject to your human whims and emotions, I can not be sure of the appropriate response. Perhaps I should be flattered that you wish to spend some time with me?"

"Just say you'll go, Spock."

"Might I have some time to think this over?"

"No, really, it's best you don't. But...you'd be doing me a big favor." Jim had that twinkle in his eye, and, illogically, Spock found it impossible to resist him.

"Very well. It is important to see that you get your share of shore leave. But surely you do not expect me to stay long. I am confident that you will be able to find something to do without me. You are nothing if not resourceful, captain."

"But I won't enjoy any of it half as well without you, Spock." Kirk's manner was easy going, and he was wearing a light-hearted smile, but there was something *there*, in his eyes...

Spock blinked and tried to center himself. "Hmm, yes."

Kirk couldn't believe it. :::Well, that was almost too easy. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I wonder why I didn't try this sooner. But it's really too soon to congratulate myself, I suppose. That will come *after* we've spent some time on the planet's surface. I wonder why Spock gave in to my request...:::

Mr. Spock had thoughts of his own to trouble him. :::Jim wishes me to accompany him on shore leave. Yet he knows that I do not usually find these types of things enjoyable. If I am not reading him incorrectly, he seemed to actually *want* me along. I have often wished that we could spend more time off duty together, but I did not know how to initiate it. Could it possibly be that he feels the same way? It would appear so, yet I must proceed with caution, in case I am in error.:::

By this time they had reached their destination. Briskly Kirk strode up to the transporter pad. Bones was already waiting there for them. "Greetings, doctor. Are we all ready for a little...relaxation?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." McCoy gave Kirk a small smile.

"It remains to be seen whether I will find this excursion relaxing or not, captain." Spock had his hands clasped behind him. The first officer stepped up to the pad.

"You know what, Spock? Somehow that doesn't surprise me. I'd be more shocked if you said that you were actually looking forward to something that any human in their right mind would be glad about," McCoy replied.

"And, as you are so often fond of pointing out, doctor, I am only half human." Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy.

"Well, you could try 'accessing' that human half of yours for once, and enjoy yourself! That's what people do when they are on vacation. But I suppose that would be too much of a stretch for you." Bones sounded a bit exasperated.

"A 'stretch', doctor? I'm afraid that I am unfamiliar with your usage of that word."

"Never mind," McCoy said gruffly.

"Now, now. I'm sure we'll all have a lovely time. Let's just work on keeping positive thoughts, shall we?" Kirk took his place on the transporter. "Alright, Mr. Birchall, energize."

"Aye, sir."

----

They arrived in a small open field. Lazy, drooping trees ringed the outer edges. What lay beyond was only vaguely hinted at. On one side of the field, there appeared to be a more densely forested area. On another, the landscape looked to be becoming more arid, desert-like, with a rocky appearance. Yet another side to the field was blending into what looked impossibly like a jungle. The fourth-well, let's say it was even more absurd.

Spock looked around quizzically. "Captain, this terrain would appear to be illogical. Has this planet been properly investigated?"

"Yes, Spock, I received detailed information on Vasquez IV through a special communication. A sort of advertisement, if you will. Everything checked out."

"Advertisement, sir?"

"This is...a resort-type place, Mr. Spock. Somewhere a person can relax, have fun." Kirk turned to look at Spock's reaction to this.

"You *do* know what fun is, right?" McCoy asked sarcastically.

"The idea of 'fun' varies highly among different individuals, Dr. McCoy," Spock replied seriously.

"Well, I aim to have some. Spock, you're with me. Bones, inform the transporter room to start beaming down the first group. You know what to do from there. Let's try this direction, Mr. Spock." Kirk gestured with his arm towards the fourth side, a region characterized by unusal volcanic formations intermixed with a tropical, forested setting. A shaded path ran somewhat steeply upwards in the middle.

They started off together. Kirk chose this side as being the least likely to attract the others that were coming down in the landing party, due to the rather steep walk involved. The path consisted merely of soft, cool dirt. They could feel the moisture rising up from the place. The broad, dark green leaves growing in a profusion from the hanging vegetation were positively plump with the wet, heavy air. Despite the cover the plants provided, a powerful warmth radiated outwards from their surroundings. And a sharp brightness lanced through the gaps in the overhead foliage, breaking up the dimness.

The exertion the walk required precluded much conversation. This was perfectly fine with the captain, as it would keep Spock from questioning him further about the planet. For the moment, anyway. And so they went on in companionable silence, concentrating on foot placement in the parts that were slippery or otherwise treacherous. Spock found himself starting to relax and enjoy himself. This was slightly hampered by the fact that Kirk seemed determined to set a fast pace not conducive to taking in one's surroundings.

In the stillness where only their breathing was heard (supposedly there were no animals on this planet), Jim began to consciously work at keeping his mind as blank as possible. The knowledge of the planet's secret impressed itself on him most forcefully, and he didn't feel quite ready to deal with whatever hidden, unknown desires his mind might harbor. However, he thought that it certainly would be interesting to see what Spock's mind might come up with...

It was his own mind that finally projected its thoughts to be picked up and made reality. They traveled quite a distance in a relatively short time, both being very fit and agile. Even so, neither had eaten since before leaving the ship, and a slight, strangely pleasant fatigue was beginning to set in for the both of them. They had drank some water, since Spock thoughtfully brought some along, but Jim unconsciously began to feel that finding a place to stop and rest might be a very nice thing indeed. And managing to locate something safe to eat wouldn't be too shabby either.

Suddenly, off to the side, there was a clearing. It went back quite a bit from the path, and the vegetation made it difficult to determine what lay beyond. Spock noticed it first. "Captain, is this the point of our coming up here?" Spock stopped Jim's upward walk with a hand to his shoulder.

Kirk was startled, as he was trying to concentrate so hard on keeping his mind ordered. He didn't quite register the total meaning of Spock's question. Kirk turned around quickly and faced Spock. "Actually, I figured that we would just get out here, go along, and let whatever happens-"

Kirk was cut off in mid sentence as he looked beyond Spock and finally saw the path branching off of the main one they were on. "...happen. Oh my. Well. This *is* something. Let's go check it out." He was excited now. Was this something indigenous to the planet? Or something created out of the thoughts of one of their own minds? Kirk was eager to find out.

"Captain, perhaps some caution is called for. I will go first." Spock walked purposely forward.

"There's nothing to worry about. This planet is perfectly harmless," Kirk scoffed. :::Except perhaps for how I plan for this to affect us personally.:::

They ended up walking abreast of each other. Moving through the growth, it took them less time than they thought before they were at a low building which blended so well with its surroundings it seemed a natural outgrowth of the land around it. "Ah." Kirk didn't know what to make of it. Did this mean the planet's abilities were starting to come into play after all?

Spock said nothing. They reached the entrance and opened the door. Inside it was dimly lit, but pleasant. There was a main room with a table and chairs. On the table was food and drink. In the far wall was an open doorway with a room beyond that appeared to have a bed.

Now that he was confronted with the almost certainty of having indirectly produced all this somehow, an unexpected case of the jitters assaulted him. "Well, what do you suggest?" Jim felt the need to fill the silence with something, while he hoped rather desperately that his voice sounded normal. He also hoped that Spock wouldn't question the existence of the food, table-well, everything.

"Again, captain, am I to assume that you had this all planned out in advance? It seems an agreeable arrangement. If so, I suggest that we scan the food and drink with our tricorders. And then, if it proves to be safe, we may consume it, if we wish." Spock's speech was calm and measured, but there was something in his face as he looked at his captain. Did he sense Jim's inner conflict? Kirk moved away from his friend in a knee-jerk reaction, thinking that he was giving away too much to the Vulcan.

Spock's speech gave Kirk an easy out, and he planned to take it. Perhaps he could get away with seeming to be in silent agreement. Behind Spock's bland words *must* lie something else. Jim's mind was racing with questions. :::We're here, now. What's next? The setting's staged, but I don't know my lines. I have to improvise, here.:::

If only he knew how much Spock was grappling with similar questions. There was a sense in this place, of something waiting to happen, and Spock was very receptive to it. But the uncertainty was stifling him. He wanted to reach out to Jim, here, now. Something was telling him this was the right time, but the pain from the knowledge of what damage could be done if he was wrong kept holding him back. :::If only he would turn around, let me look into his face...::: It was a mournful sigh in Spock's mind.

A rather insistent little thought appeared in Kirk's mind. The power of the place, awoken once more. :::Turn around. Face him. Do it.::: Kirk was so startled he almost spoke aloud, questioning. Instead, almost without hesitation, he turned around and closed the gap between them. His face was open, unguarded. It spoke volumes.

Spock was equally startled to get his wish. Unprepared, for the moment his face was completely unshielded. A slight exhalation escaped him as the war within his mind began. A tugging, from two sides. One side urging him to let loose, hide nothing. The other wanted to balk from this, to steel himself from the incoming flood of emotion.

:::I can not. It is too much. No, you *will*. You want it, take your chance now. Yes...I will show him, the human way.::: With this thought firmly in place, Spock leaned in towards Jim. His hands came up of their own volition to rest on the captain's chest. Spock's mouth reached out to that other one, waiting. Lips barely brushed in a gentle kiss. It ignited something in the both of them, like a flame to dry tinder. :::Ahhh.::: A joint reaction of pleasure, searing both their souls.

One tentative touch could never be enough now. Spock's hands had reflexively clutched at Jim's chest. Kirk now wrapped his arms around the Vulcan and held him close. "Spock. Allow me." And with that Jim went in for a deep, long kiss.

The incredible sweetness stunned them both. For the moment, everything was focused on the joining of the two mouths. Soft lips, fierce pressure, the hot depths both tongues were exploring. When they finally parted, control had completely slipped its reins. "I think I recall a bed..." Kirk's voice was low and rough.

"Yes," Spock's answer was almost a growl.

As one they went straight for it. Landing in a jumble on the mattress, clothes were shed in record time. Their hands were everywhere. Awkward at first, soon they became bolder as lust fueled them on. Lying on their sides, they faced each other, exploring one another's bodies.

Spock traced the outline of Jim's bruised lips which had so recently set him on fire. Quickly, Jim took one long finger into his mouth, sucking and licking. Spock arched his back in a convulsive spasm of pleasure. It pressed his already hard and aching cock into Kirk's stomach. Jim let out a sharp gasp and let the finger fall from his mouth.

He then gripped the back of Spock's neck and began tracing the space behind Spock's ear with his tongue. This drove the Vulcan further into the pit of mindless passion. Remembering how good it felt to jab his cock into Jim's belly, Spock rubbed his length against that lovely, warm human flesh.

Now Kirk felt slick softness and steel moving along his body, and shuddered. It sent him to that place of hard driving, knife-sharp need, and he leaned forward and deliberately bit down on the most sensitive spot at the joining of Spock's shoulder and neck. A low, hoarse cry escaped the Vulcan's lips at this.

Spock shoved Jim over on to his back now and ran impatient kisses all down his body; from his lovely smooth chest, to the crisp hair surrounding his cock. The gorgeous hard length stood up straight between them, flushed a dusky rose, fluid already gathered at its tip. A drop fell upon Jim's abdomen, and slowly Spock licked it up, savoring the salty, sour taste on his tongue. That same mobile, cat-like tongue now reached out and swirled around the weeping cock head. The wet, rough, heat dragging along his highly sensitized flesh was a near agony to Kirk's needy desire.

Spock eagerly engulfed the human's cock, giving a few strong sucks and twists of his tongue. He pulled back now, scraping lightly with his teeth, ending with a kiss to the end of the shaft. A moan escaped from deep within Kirk, as he helplessly pressed upwards, seeking that hot mouth.

Instead, Spock leaned back, thinking suddenly of the need for added lubrication. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a previously unnoticed night stand, with a bottle placed prominently on top. Pushing back the muscular legs of his partner, he reached for it and covered his hand with the warm oil. Moving down to the puckered opening of his love, a finger firmly traced the outline several times before slipping inside. Pressing deeply inside in circular motions, more fingers worked to loosen the clenching muscle.

Unable to stand much more, Spock stroked himself roughly a few times, spreading his natural lubrication around. Placing his erection at the entrance to Kirk, he paused to gaze on the beautiful face of his captain, friend, and now lover, who was waiting in complete trust, eyes closed in anticipation.

In one, quick, brutal movement, Spock was buried fully in that incredible, tight, heat. The perfect pressure in that most intimate of places made Spock lose all traces of his precise speech. "Ah yes. *So* good. Why didn't we...do this...sooner?" Driving inside now with punishing force, the Vulcan could only manage to talk in ragged pauses.

Kirk gasped in mingled pleasure and pain at the sudden onslaught of urgent fucking. In moments, the delicious burning became all that he had ever wanted. "Yes...wonderful. I *need* this. Don't stop...please." He was begging now and didn't care, moving up to meet each hard thrust.

"Come for me. Let me watch you, so beautiful." Spock's deep voice was passion incarnate. He grabbed Jim's cock and pulled it once, squeezing firmly. Thrusting twice more into that tight ass, he came, emptying himself in wrenching spasms. This set off Kirk's own climax, whose jerking cock shot out the thick, burning stuff across his chest and throat.

Spock slid out of Jim's ass and fell gracelessly to the bed beside him. Unheeding the stickiness covering his lover, Spock pulled the human close with a contented sigh. Happiness enfolded Jim with its warmth. But a stray thought couldn't help popping into his head in the aftermath of sex.

Abruptly a large old fashioned copper tub appeared near the foot of the bed, steam rising up into the room. "Uh, I think I have some explaining to do," Kirk spoke nervously.

"That is all right, t'hy'la. We have nothing but time." And Spock sealed his vow with a kiss.

~finis~

HARRY/SNAPE

TITLE: A New Family
AUTHOR: Titti
PAIRINGS: Harry/Severus
FANDOM: Harry Potter
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: titti_adriano@hotmail.com
WEBPAGE: http://www.titti.co.uk 
DISCLAIMER: Alas, they are not mine.
SUMMARY: Harry want to come out on Christmas night. But does he have an ulterior motive?
NOTE: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
ARCHIVING: The Slash Advent Calendar Challenge and my site. Anyone else just ask.

A NEW FAMILY

"You want to do what?" Severus asked wide-eyed.

"I want to have supper on Christmas Eve with all the members of our families," Harry explained patiently for the fifth time.

"I don't have family," Severus hissed out.

"Fine, so we'll have Christmas supper with my family." Harry wondered how long they were going to discuss this. Good thing that he had started this discussion right after Hallow's Eve.

"And your family would consist of whom, exactly?" Severus asked with his patented scowl.

Harry sighed. "Please, Severus, I want to share our own family with my friends."

"We don't have a family, Potter. We shag. We bugger. We are men. We don't do family."

"Severus, we've been together for four years. If what we have were only a good shag, we wouldn't be together. We are a family and I want everyone to know that."

"Then, you should wait to make the announcement until Good Friday. You can be the sacrificial lamb, crucified together with the two criminals: me as the cradle robber and Albus for covering up for us."

Harry laughed. "I'm impressed that you have raised your nose long enough to read any theology. However, I think it's perfect. Christmas is the start of a new family."

Severus scowled, but Harry knew that he could wear the Potions master down. He had another fifty-four days to do it.

~*~HP~*~SS~*~

Christmas Eve arrived and it brought a number of guests at Snape manor. Guests that were hated and despised. Guests that Severus wanted to hex. Guests that meant the world to his lover. So, he put up with the foray on his ancestral home.

Severus sighed and welcomed, or at least let inside his house, the Weasley clan with their spouses. Fortunately, none of them had started reproducing. Granger was escorted by a redhead. To his surprise, it wasn't Potter's sidekick, but his virginal sister. He snorted: Ron was such a loser.

Harry had invited Draco as Severus' only guest. Draco, shockingly, had arrived with Remus Lupin. Severus smirked. He would enjoy giving *that* item of news to Lucius. He wondered if he could actually give Lucius a heart attack with the information. That almost made up for this dreadful night.

Black arrived by himself. Severus was already cataloguing the possible insults to throw his way without angering Harry too much. The Potions master still wanted to shag after the barbaric invasion left.

~*~HP~*~SS~*~

Harry was surprised at Severus's restrain during supper. He had only threatened to put Sirius under the Cruciatus once, and he had offended Ronald three times. The Boy Who Lived hadn't hoped such good behaviour. He just hoped that Severus could maintain his calm when the Gryffindor announced his surprise.

After supper, all the wizards and witches were sitting in a formal sitting room. A majestic pine stood in a corner; lights and glass ornaments covered its many branches. Faux snow fell on the floor only to disappear magically. Muggle Christmas carols rang through the room.

The grandfather clock stroke the midnight. Harry grinned to everyone. "There is a special reason why Severus invited everyone here." He waved his hand and each guest found a green envelop in his hand.

Severus looked confused at the different reactions: from the simple 'this is mad' to 'what have you done to my godson?'.

He walked up to Draco who was the closest, possibly because he was the only one who dared to stay near the Potions master. Severus grabbed the card that Draco was holding. He read the elegant silver script:

Severus Snape, Potions master, Head of Slytherin, Order of Merlin second class, would like to announce that his partner, Harry Potter, Head of Gryffindor, Order of Merlin second class is expecting their first child.

Severus stared at his guests. Everyone had gone quiet when they inferred that Snape was not aware of the contents of the card. Now, they were waiting for his reaction.

Severus did the only thing possible under the circumstances: he fainted.

END

JIM/BLAIR

Show: The Sentinel
Title: Miracles
Author: Charon
Style: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Dates Written: Started: October 31st, 2001 Completed: October 31st, 2001 Rewritten: December 15th, 2002
Feedback: It would be like ice cream to a pregnant woman . . . necessary for life (and I ought to know)! And, if you'd be so kind, send it to: kwaigoncainejinn@yahoo.com
Codes: J/B Warnings: Slash - First Time (I really hope you know what this means by this time in the calendar, 'cause this is more of it, and hot and heavy too. Also, there are some relatively mild swear words, and Blair's a cop, though it has nothing really to do with anything. Episode Spoilers: No real epi's have been spoiled in this fic, which is set after 'The Sentinel, By Blair Sandburg'
Summary: There Is actually a plot, and in order to see what it is, you have to read it. ha-ha nanner nanner nanner . . .
Disclaimer: As do most things Sentinel (except for the security systems and the flea collars)they belong to Pet Fly, and I really wish they were mine because they'd still be on TV, have a lot more exciting adventures, and have much more . . . creative ways of recovering from said adventures. Also, suing me would really be a waste of time as I have nothing of any worth, except me, my fiancé, and our baby-on-the-way.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent

HOW MANY MIRACLES?

Blair groaned and shifted only to find himself stilled by hands that trembled slightly, and he looked up blearily into light-blue eyes that he recognized so very well.

"Take it easy, Chief.” The choked voice of Jim Ellison entered his consciousness and he inhaled deeply.

"What . . . what hap'ned?" He asked, and Jim shrugged nervously.

"I don't really know." The taller man with thinning brown hair looked into Blair's face and smoothed . . . or attempted to smooth . . . the unruly, shoulder length, dark curls. "I was just walking into the house when I got really dizzy and I must have passed out. The next thing I knew, I was here, and my gun, badge, and wallet were gone. When I found you, I searched you as well, but yours are gone too." He frowned. “They must have gassed us at the loft, but I didn’t hear anything or smell anything either. Damn it, Blair, I thought these senses were supposed to prevent crap like this from happening!”

"Jim, chill, man. You’re only human. Your senses are heightened, way heightened, but that doesn’t mean that they - or you - are infallible. Maybe someone knew about you - you know as well as I do, that not everyone believed my lie. Anyway, maybe they used a white noise generator on you. It’s happened before.” Blair shrugged and ran a hand over his eyes, then sighed as he struggled to sit up. “But, tell me, Jim, can you see anything in this place? ‘Cause I sure can’t. I’m totally blind in here . . . " Blair felt his own body as it trembled with the residual weariness that had been left over from the drug, and he leaned against his detective partner.

"Nothing. But, Blair, here . . ." Jim’s cleared his throat, and Blair looked in his direction as his friend and partner took his arm then ran Blair’s fingertips over the crook of his arm, and Blair felt a tiny, slightly raised bump. Silently Jim held out his own arm and ran Blair’s fingers over that as well, and Blair felt the same mark on Jim’s arm he had on his. “They gave us something, but I don’t have any idea what it was."

"Aw damn, Jim.” Blair ran a hand over his face. "What the hell is going on here?” Suddenly, to their surprise, a tree, about two feet in height, whose branches ended in dim, multi-colored fiber optic lights, decked out for Christmas, suddenly came to life, as did a voice.

"Welcome, gentlemen. I’m assuming that by now you’ve both woken up, and are aware of your surroundings . . . " A disembodied voice came from what seemed to be the tree. "By now, I’m sure that you have also noticed the injection marks and are both aware that something is in your bloodstream. That something is poison - a rather deadly strain too, I must say, and one that I have developed on my very own, in my very own lab."

"Who are you!?" Blair hollered into the air. "What have you done to us?! Why . . . " He didn't get to finish his question as the voice went on.

"However, I've got more good news for you. Only one of you carries the actual poison, while the other carries only a harmless vitamin shot. So, one of you gets to watch while the other of you gets to die slowly over the next hour. And please, do not be naive enough to think you will be rescued before your time is up. You are buried several feet underground in an abandoned oil storage tank. That being the case, the one that didn’t get the poison will slowly die of thirst and starvation in the company of your partner's body, and I will be miles away as free as any turtle dove." The voice laughed.

"Why are you doing this to us?!" Blair yelled and Jim scowled.

"You are probably now wondering who I am and why I'm doing this, and the answers, gentlemen, are quite simple. I am simply an assassin who has been hired to kill you as you both, to put it delicately, have ticked off quite a number of people - very influential people at that, with your determined, and somewhat miraculous, crime solving abilities."

"You won't get away with this!" Blair shouted, but Jim placed a calming hand on his friend's arm, and Blair shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “Well . . .” He cleared his throat. “Someone had to say it.”

"It was a good thought, Blair." He shook his head. "But he's not going to hear you."

"Why not?" Blair scowled in dim light that came from the tree.

"It's a recording, Chief. I heard static behind the words and there was a click before it came back on . . . " No sooner had he spoken than a soft click sounded and the man started again. Jim went up to the tree, placed a rubber glove on his hand, reached among the plastic branches, and came up with a hand-held tape recorder.

"I did leave you gentlemen, in honor of the season, a small, battery operated Christmas tree for light. There’s also a narrow pipe that leads outside for air, however, I'm afraid it will fill with mud when it rains. But, gentlemen, these *are* the chances you take when you become the 'good' guys. Well, I shall let you alone now to wonder who's going to die first.” An almost insane giggle sounded, and the man spoke again. “Merry Christmas. I’d say Happy New Year, but I’m afraid that’ll be a moot wish by then." Another click sounded, and finally, the tank was quiet.

"C’mon, Chief." Jim dropped the recorder and put his hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Let's see if we can find that air pipe. Maybe we can use that to shout for help."

Together, the made the circuit of what Jim figured had to be a twenty-five-foot tank, and eventually, by feeling the air currents, he located the air pipe at the top of the tank. It was depressingly narrow, at only about three inches in diameter and was close to the tank door. A door, which, upon careful investigation, they found had been welded tightly shut. Both men faced the fact there would be no escape for either of them without outside help, and Blair looked up at Jim, his voice quiet, and his face pale.

"So . . . " Blair cleared his throat as they looked at the door of the tanker. "Which . . . which one of us got the poison you think?"

"I don't know." Jim shook his head as he narrowed his eyes and used the dim light of the tree to focus his vision on the ‘roof’ of the tanker, where the hole rested. "The recording said we had an hour. I'm sure we'll know by then. In the meantime, why don't you climb on my shoulders and try shouting through the hole? Maybe someone will hear you."

"Okay." Blair nodded and climbed onto Jim's shoulders and put his mouth to the hole. "Hey! Hey! Can anyone hear me?! Help! We need some help down here!" They waited and heard nothing but the echo of Blair's shout as it reverberated around the tank. He dropped back down and Jim nodded..

"We'll try every fifteen minutes."

"That's only four times before one of us supposedly dies." Blair commented. "And I don't know who I want it to be first . . . no offense." He looked into his friend’s face, then down at the floor. "I'd hate to put you through that, but I don't want to be left behind."

"Damn, Chief, I feel the same way." Jim reached down and touched Blair's face with his fingertips, and sighed. "But probably not for the same reasons." He dropped his hand and turned away.

"Jim, what way . . . what reasons are you talking about?" Blair's voice was loud in the tank and Jim inhaled deeply.

"Things're looking pretty hopeless now, aren't they?" He asked and swallowed. They both looked around the tank, then over to the small hole as a small 'ping' rang out, and then another and they watched as a small droplet of dirty water fell to the floor of the tank.

"It was supposed to storm tonight, then turn to freezing rain." Blair answered and looked back at Jim. "And unless some really big miracle occurs, we're pretty much worm food here. I mean, someone obviously went to an awful lot of trouble to set this up for us, and I doubt after all this . . .” He indicated the tree and the recorder, then their general surroundings. “They'd just let it slip out that somewhere they've locked a couple of cops in a subterranean oil tank on Christmas Eve. So, yeah, I'd have to say it looks pretty hopeless." They watched the dirty drips as they turned into a small rivulet of dirty water and the two men backed away to drier territory. Jim slid slowly to the floor, followed by Blair, and they sat quietly for a moment, until Jim finally spoke again.

"Blair . . . " He cleared his throat. "There's something I want to tell you . . . something I promised I'd tell you only on my deathbed."

"Geeze, Jim, sounds serious." Blair attempted to joke, but the bigger man gave no answering smile and Blair laid his hand on Jim's arm. "C'mon, Jim, out with it. You can say anything to me, man. You know that."

"Do I?" Jim asked, and Blair gazed back at him in quiet confidence. "Okay.” He finally said and his lips turned up slightly. “But you asked for it.” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “What would you say if I told you I think that you're beautiful? Not only on the inside, and not only because you’ve helped me get these damned senses under control and made some sort of - no pun intended - but some sort of sense out of everything that’s happened to me. What would you say if I told you that I've loved you romantically for at least two years and that in that time all I’ve ever wanted to do was to make love to you and be your lover . . . in every way?" Blair was silent for a moment, and Jim turned his face away, unable to watch the anger, disgust, and rejection he knew he'd see on his best friend and partner's face.

"Geeze, Jim . . . " Blair started, and shook his head. "I . . .”

"You . . . you really don't have to respond, Blair," Jim answered. "I just wanted to tell you all that before I . . . we . . . died." Jim's hands shook and he wrapped his arms around himself, then swallowed. "Maybe I should have left it at ‘I’.” He swallowed, but almost choked as his head fell against the wall of the tank. I . . . I feel really weird, here, Chief." He whispered and Blair's heart and stomach clenched.

"Weird? Weird how?” Blair’s voice quivered and Jim looked at him.

“Sweaty, warm, chilled. I’m having a hard time focusing to make the feelings dull to where I can still think . . . still function. I think . . . no, I know . . . I’m the one that got the poison.”

“No." Blair’s eyes went round. “Not yet. There's so much I want to say . . . " He shook his head. "Man, we've wasted so much time already, and I don't want to waste any more with words." He turned, leaned forward and placed feather-light kisses on Jim's eyes, his cheeks, and his nose. "I love you too, Jim. I . . . I didn't think you'd want me, though. After all, I’m a neo-hippy, witch doctor punk."

"I do want you, Blair.” Jim sighed, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of Blair’s lips on his fevered face as a small smile crossed his lips. “But why would you want me? After all, I’m a throwback to pre-civilized man?"

“Well, you’re a challenge, that’s for sure. I never could resist a challenge.” Blair grinned, and Jim couldn’t help but respond in kind, even as he shivered.

"Damn, I don't want to lose you, Blair." The older man whispered as Blair wrapped his arms around the man.

"You’ll never lose me, man." Blair answered confidently. "After all, they can only kill our bodies, but they can't kill our hearts. Only you and I can do that, and that isn’t gonna happen. I’m not gonna let it. You hear me, Ellison? I’m. Not. Going. To. Let. It.” With each word, he gripped Jim’s shoulders ever tighter, and Jim leaned his head on Blair’s shoulder.

"I love you so much." He told him and by mutual assent, their lips finally met. Twin groans filled the tanker as Blair felt Jim's mouth open under his.

Their tongues met, introduced themselves, and their lips sealed over each other as the gentle kiss of love deepened into a frenzied kiss of passion. Jim pushed Blair’s jacket to the floor and rolled Blair onto it, even as he reached under Blair's turtleneck and touched the chest and stomach he'd dared only dream about.

Blair groaned under the caress and ran his hands through the thinning brown hair, as their kisses became fierce and demanding. Blair traced his tongue over Jim’s salty upper lip, and in a surprise move, flipped Jim onto his back and lay himself over the taller man. He lifted up the cable knit sweater that Jim wore and kissed his way up the smooth flesh. Jim moaned with each kiss, arched upward, and their pelvises rubbed together. Both men cried out at the unexpected pleasure, and Jim trembled beneath his friend - his lover. He squeezed his eyes shut as uncontrollable dizziness swept over him and he suddenly realized they had no future.

"Blair, please . . . " He suddenly gripped Blair's shoulders with the force of his realization. "Make it stop!"

"Make what stop, Jim?!" Blair demanded, alarmed at the panic that filled the usually calm, self-assured, acerbic tone.

"I can feel it.” He scowled. “The poison. I can feel it taking me over. I can feel it killing me, and I'm not ready to go yet! I don't want to feel it, and you can make it better, just like you’ve made every other bad thing in my life better!”

Blair bit his lip and swallowed, definitely *not* used to Jim being so open with him, and/or his feelings. Blair stroked the brown hair gently and smiled, as he knew that he could do no less for his love than he’d asked him to do. "All right, Jim.” The younger man’s voice was low and soothed the Sentinel’s pain and panic. “We can’t stop the poison, and I’m assuming you’ve done the dial thing, right?” Jim nodded, and he kissed the older man’s face, chin, and throat. "Then let me take care of you. Let me love you and we’ll both forget about things for a while. Besides, man, Simon could find us. Miracles have been known to happen.” He smiled. “After all, I found you, and it wasn’t even Christmas.”

He kissed his way down Jim’s smooth chest as his hands opened the man’s jeans, and they both knew they’d reached the point of no return. He eased the jeans past the older man’s hips, ran his tongue over Jim's abdomen, and lightly traced his fingers over the older man’s groin.

"Chie- ief! " Jim cried out and bucked upward uncontrollably as Blair's mouth surrounded his quickly hardening shaft and the younger man’s tongue wrapped around the distended member. He slid his mouth down and around and Jim dug his nails into the bottom of the tank and shook as Blair gave him all the pleasure his love-driven desperation could dispense.

Jim forgot about the poison that coursed through him as his brain shot other signals through his body, and all of them were centered at the hot, wet mouth that teased and pulled at him. Suddenly, he grabbed Blair's shoulders and pulled the man up to him and rolled him over, then forcibly pushed his tongue into the unresisting mouth. Almost violently he pushed the turtleneck upward and undid Blair's belt.

"Jim, you don't have to.” Blair cleared his rough throat. “I mean, I don’t know how much being a cop prepared you for any of this, but me, well, you know, table legs come in all shapes . . ." He didn't get a chance to say anything else as Jim's mouth took him in and it was his turn to thrust upward. A guttural sound of absolute pleasure echoed around the tank and Jim's name was almost a litany as he writhed under the bigger man’s stimulation, which was no less expert than his own had been.

"I was in Covert Ops, Chief." Jim finally said. "It’s *never* talked about, but Covert Operatives - male and female - do whatever they have to do to get their missions accomplished. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, Blair. Besides, I’ve dreamed so long of hearing you . . ." He stroked Blair’s chest, then swayed dizzily. Less than a heartbeat later, Blair was beside, rather than under him, and he gently laid the bigger man down on the coat.

"Blair, please." Jim whispered. "Make love to me. I . . .I'm losing strength and I don't . . . don't want to die without knowing . . . knowing you."

"I can't.” Blair’s voice was once again rough, only it was with unshed tears rather than shared passion. “We don't have anything to ease . . . "

"Please, Blair." Jim swallowed, then half-smiled. "I . . .I wasn't planning on making love with you tonight or anything, but I picked up a bottle of that massage oil you ran out of the other week. I . . . I was going to put it in your stocking, but it never made it out of my coat pocket.”

Blair looked at the man oddly. “My massage oil? How’d you know I ran out of that of all things?”

“When you’d come back from your massage therapy sessions, you always smelled kind of like the woods after it rained.” He frowned slightly. “You’ve smelled like powder the last couple of times, so I knew you’d had to use what they had at the sessions.” He sighed. “I missed the earthy/musky smell on you, so I went to that herbal store you like and picked up a bottle of it for you." A long sigh left him and he shook his head. "Look, Chief, I don't know how much longer I’ve got here, so could you please stop talking to me and just make love to me?" His voice wavered and Blair couldn't deny anything Jim asked of him.

"Okay." Blair's voice broke almost as much as his heart at the weakness in Jim's tone and he retrieved the small bottle of oil. “Though I have to say, I never thought I’d ever be doing this with you.”

"I know." The older man smiled gently into the blue velvet eyes he knew so well. "But I love you and I want you so badly. Don't make me beg, here, okay?"

"Never. You never have to beg me for anything. You know that." Blair answered and slathered the massage oil into his hand and fingers. He kissed the older, weakened man, then took him into his mouth again and slowly, lovingly, prepared him for their coupling. Blair's name was almost ripped from Jim's throat and he couldn't stop from thrusting upward as Blair's fingers brushed his inner pleasure center.

"Chief . . . please. Oh gods, please!" Jim panted and his body trembled violently, but not with the pain of the poison, and Blair wanted to take what Jim offered as much as Jim wanted to give it. Both men moaned in disappointment when Blair removed his fingers and together they spread the oil on Blair's shaft as Jim lay back once more.

"I love you, Blair." He smiled at the curly-haired man and swept his fingers through the long mane as Blair opened him, then introduced his slick shaft, as gently as he could, into the warmed channel.

"I love you, Jim." Blair said and with his eyes on those of the man he loved, he pushed into him fully. Jim gasped and squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden pain and Blair froze. Slowly Jim relaxed, then sighed contentedly.

"You've got my heart, my soul, and now my body, Blair." Jim smiled. "Take it all." "Whatever you want, Jim." Blair said and entered his lover further, drew out, and felt Jim as he arched under him and tightened around him. A long groan was almost yanked from Blair and he could barely control his passion as the man below him thrust upward to meet him.

Moans, gasps, and cries of pleasure, and, more importantly to the two men, love and commitment, rolled and echoed through the tank. Blair fell forward and trapped Jim's erection between their heaving bodies as Jim grasped Blair's shoulders and threw his head back as he quickly rose toward his climax. Blair hadn't known any time when his tightly reserved partner had ever lost complete control of himself, and he knew that the moment belonged to him and him alone. He grinned and trembled with the force of the knowledge that he, Blair Sandburg, could make James Ellison completely powerless with wanton passion.

"Harder!” Jim panted. “Please, Chief! I'm almost there! Don't stop!" Jim pleaded with Blair completely mindlessly, and Blair gave in to his lover, his friend, his partner, his Sentinel. With each thrust into the older man’s body, he brought him closer to the edge, and finally, without warning, Jim's whole body contracted under and around Blair.

The older man’s climax was explosive and all-consuming, and there was no way that Blair could control himself another minute. He threw his head back as his own body shuddered uncontrollably and his own orgasm was no less earthshattering or silent than Jim's had been. When it was over, he collapsed onto Jim as they both shuddered violently in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"Gods, Jim.” Blair panted “I love you so much. I just can’t believe how much I really do love you." He smoothed the older man’s sweaty hair, and Jim wrapped his arms tightly around the man over him.

"Love you . . . too." Jim sighed, and his whole body seemed to collapse in on itself all at once, and he closed his eyes. “I . . . I’m sorry, Blair.” He whispered. “But I . . . I can’t hold on much . . . longer.” Blair gasped and shook his head, then sat up as Jim's grasp on him loosened.

"No, Jim! No! Not yet!" Blair screamed, and flung off the flannel overshirt he wore and wiped the sweat from Jim’s face. “Don’t leave me! I’m not ready to be alone, yet!” He pleaded, and grasped Jim’s hand in his as if he could physically hold onto the man’s life by himself. There was no sound in the tanker but that of Blair’s frantic mutters and pleadings to his friend, and suddenly, Jim’s eyes fluttered open.

“Yell, Chief.” He whispered. “I . . . I . . . hear some . . . thing.” He smiled as a sigh left him, and he ran a fragile hand through Blair’s curls. “Yell as loud as you can. At . . . at least you’ll get out . . . out of here.”

“You can’t leave me!” Blair shrieked as he gripped Jim’s sweater lapels, and looked up at the ceiling of the tanker. “Hey!” He screamed. “We’re down here! Someone help us! Can you hear me!? We’re down here! For God’s sake, help us!”

Suddenly, he VERY dimly, and very muffled, heard his name as it was called in what sounded like Simon's voice. He shook his head, but then heard it again and stumbled over to the hole as he wiped himself clean with his flannel shirt and fixed his jeans.

"Captain!? Simon!? Is that you!?"

"Blair!" He dimly heard Simon's voice once more, and Blair cheered, jumped for absolute joy, then ran to Jim.

"Don't give up, Jim! C’mon, man, they found us! Stay with me! Do you hear me, Jim!? STAY! WITH! ME!" He ran back to the hole. "Simon! Jim's been poisoned and he’s dying! Get us out of here!"

"We'll need fifteen minutes to dig you out! We've got the antidote . . . " Simon’s voice sounded back to him, and he clenched his hands desperately and angrily at his own helplessness.

"Damn it, Simon! Jim doesn’t *have* fifteen minutes! Send the antidote down the damned air hole if you have to and *I'll* give it to him!"

"We’re working on it, Sandburg, but the hole's blocked with mud!"

"Simon, please! Get it unblocked then! You can’t let him die! Not like this!” He ran back to Jim and with Blair’s help, Jim was raised until he sat, more or less, upright. Weakly, he helped Blair as they both cleaned him up and made themselves presentable, or as presentable as they could under the circumstances.

Suddenly, as Jim slowly collapsed to his side, a thick clod of mud splashed into the bottom of the tank. Blair caught him and gently lowered him onto his coat, then watched as the taller man’s eyes closed. "No! Jim! Don't you dare do this to me!” He dashed over to the hole again. “Simon!” He screamed once more into the pipe, and didn’t care how hysterical he sounded. “Get that antidote down here! We need it NOW!" He raced over to Jim's side and sat him up one more time, then stroked his face as he almost wept. "Jim, please. Oh gods, please don't leave me. Not when we're so close. Wake up, man. You gotta’ wake up. Please."

"It's on the way down! Make sure he swallows it all!" Simon shouted back down the hole and Blair all but flew over to the hole just as a small vial tied to a string slid through. Blair's hands shook so badly he almost couldn't get the vial off the string. However, once he had it in his hands, he returned to Jim, and gently raised the older man's head.

“Damn, Jim, I hope this doesn’t futz up your senses and I *really* wish we had more time to test it, but we don’t.” He inhaled deeply as normally bright, light blue eyes fluttered open and rolled listlessly around, as if he fought to focus on somehting . . . anything. Jim sighed as Blair uncorked the vial.

"Blair . . . " He whispered. "Can't . . . move. Can’t see . . ."

“I'll take care of you." Blair told him and sat behind the desperately weakened man, and the heavy head fell against his shoulder. Blair tipped the vial into Jim's mouth and the liquid ran down his unresisting throat. The bigger man swallowed reflexively, but he choked, and Blair determinedly held his jaw tightly closed. A few moments later, Jim's entire body twitched spastically, and when the tremors passed, he relaxed completely in Blair’s arms, as his labored breathing suddenly eased.

Blair held Jim’s head and shoulders cradled tightly against him, and prayed to every deity he’d ever heard of that his Jim, his love, his lover, his Sentinel, would be all right. Finally, after what seemed a very long time later, Jim’s eyes finally opened, and Blair gazed fearfully into the blue eyes that slowly cleared of their pain and confusion, and the bigger man smiled, though it was faint at best.

“I . . . I’m feeling a little better.” He whispered.

“Thank God.” Blair answered fervently, then wrapped his arms around his lover’s chest as Jim wound his legs under, then over Blair's, wrapped his arms around the other man's, and relaxed into Blair’s embrace.

"Chief." He whispered as the sound of engines and digging came to both of them through the air pipe.

"Yeah, partner . . . lover." Blair grinned, and Jim smiled as he kissed Blair's neck, then continued.

"How many miracles do you think we’ve still got coming to us?"

"Well, let’s see . . .” Blair rested his head on the close-cropped hair, and smiled as he looked at the Christmas tree. “How much do you love me?"

"As much as you do me." Jim smiled back, and Blair laughed.

"Then we have as many miracles for however long forever lasts." Blair kissed Jim's forehead and the two listened as their Captain and their friends once again came to their rescue.

ONE YEAR LATER


It had been a *very* long Christmas Eve at Major Crimes, and Jim was tired. He also wasn’t ashamed to let anyone and everyone know it.

He glared at the traffic. He glared at the shoppers. He glared at the lights. He glared at the speakers that played a myriad of Christmas songs over downtown. He clenched his jaw so hard that he thought his own teeth would break as he fought his way over the slush that had accumulated on the roads during an all day freezing rain.

Blair had, somehow, managed to finagle the day off, and Jim glared at the warmly lit windows of the loft apartment. He parked the truck, got out, and if the puddle that he’d stepped in had been organic, it would have dried instantly just from the heat that was in his glower.

He all but threw open the front door of the building, stomped into the elevator, and, once it had reached his floor, stomped out. He fished his keys from his pocket, but before he could use them, the door was opened, and a bright, cheerful face greeted him in the doorway.

Blair took one look at his lover’s face, his rigid stance, and his wet feet, and without a word, led the older man into the apartment. He placed a finger over Jim’s lips as he went to speak, and the bigger man sighed, but said nothing. Blair took the coat and hung it up, then took the keys and dropped them in the basket. Still without a word, he bent down and removed Jim’s sodden shoes and socks, motioned Jim to stay put, then raced up the stairs to the loft bedroom they’d shared for the last year. Jim heard the younger man as he rustled around in the bedroom, and finally, he raced back down the stairs, a fresh pair of warm, dry socks and Jim’s slippers in his hands.

Jim sighed, as Blair dressed his feet then lead him into the livingroom, where he was soon wrapped in a comforter in front of a deliciously warm fire. Five silent minutes later, a cup of some sort of hot tea was pressed into his hands, and the body of his lover was nestled beside him, the curly head rested comfortably on his shoulder.

Jim smiled, contented, and gazed around the loft apartment that seemed a riot of holiday decorations, though each in its own way was tasteful. However, his eyes finally wandered in the direction of the kitchen, and he almost dropped the cup.

“Chief . . .” His voice was strangled as he stared at what stood directly in the center of the table. “Is that . . .” He couldn’t finish, and Blair smiled up at him.

“It’s our tree.” The younger man answered proudly.

“*Our* . . . tree?” Jim stared at his partner, who was his partner in so many more ways than he’d ever dared hope, as if he had completely lost his mind. “That’s that . . . thing . . . from the tank we were imprisoned in last year. You do remember that, don’t you, Blair? Real dark place, insane assassin, poison, I almost died . . .”

“Well, yeah.” Blair frowned and tipped his head at the tree he’d signed out from the evidence lock-up. “I suppose you could look at it that way. But then too, it was our only light source, and it gave us hope. It’s like anything, Jim, it can be a reminder of pain, or it can be a reminder of the miracles we’ve had and will continue to have.” He sighed sadly. “I can take it back to . . .”

“No.” Jim’s voice was soft, and he ran the back of his knuckles along the side of Blair’s jaw. “In fact, now that you mention it, I guess it is pretty symbolic, isn’t it? Particularly of the miracle that happened when I was sent you.”

“No less of a miracle for you, man, than for me when I was given you.” Blair smiled, and Jim’s mouth covered his.

The kiss was one of love, not passion, and Blair or Jim, neither of whom would ever be spending any of the holidays lonely or alone, or the two-foot tall, fiber-optic Christmas tree, which wouldn’t be spending a holiday ever again in a police evidence lock-up, minded that at all.

THE END!

MISCELLANEOUS (PICARD/Q - THE NEXT GENERATION)

AUTHOR: Sara
TITLE: Pleasures of the Flesh
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Picard shows Q that having a body isn't all bad.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount/Viacom own Picard, Q and the Star Trek universe. I'm just playing nicely with their toys. No profit is being made from this.
NOTE: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
FEEDBACK ADDRESS: sara_merry99@yahoo.com  any and all feedback welcome.
PAIRING: Picard/Q
FANDOM: Star Trek: The Next Generation
BETAS: jm did an amazing job of beta-ing (despite her claims to the contrary) and helped shape the story quite a bit. Also, I would never have written P/Q in the first place if it weren't for our challenge to swap fandoms for a story. Thanks, jm!! I am deeply grateful. My beyond-Faulknerian sentences were turned into readable English by the joint efforts of Singer (thanks, beautiful!) and Lyra.

PLEASURES OF THE FLESH

"Q, please relax," Jean-Luc Picard said, stroking his love's back as they lay on the bed in his cabin on the Enterprise. "You'll enjoy this. Trust me."

"I find it hard to believe, mon Capitaine, that I will enjoy much in this little shell," Q said, feeling irritable and uncomfortable. Both of them were naked; Q stretched out on his stomach as Picard knelt over him trying to relieve tense muscles with massage.

Q tried to force his muscles to relax but found that it only made him more tense. He hated bodies, hated feeling the rumbling of his digestive system, the flow of blood through his veins. Hated feeling mortal, limited. He didn't understand how Jean-Luc could tolerate it.

Q extended his senses, his essential self, out from the human body he'd formed and reached toward Picard. He was surprised when Picard pushed away the reaching tendrils of Q's self with a thought, <<No, my love. Not tonight. Tonight I'm sharing with you the pleasures of the flesh.>>

Picard's essence--his soul, to use a rather inadequate human word--was beautiful to Q. He found it to be strong, complex, entrancing, unique in all the universe. Q longed to free Picard from his mortal body, to let that amazing essence out to experience the universe without the limitation of senses, of mortality, of being in one place at a time. Q longed to let their essential selves mingle, join, become one so that their love could truly unite them.

Since confessing their love, Q delighted in giving Picard tastes of the Q way of experiencing the universe, experiencing their love. Q knew that Picard enjoyed the oneness, the intimacy of the experience that allowed no secrets between them. But inexplicably, frustratingly, Jean-Luc always insisted on returning to his own body, his mortal limitations. "Returning to my humanity" Picard called it, as if being human had some sort of attraction.

<<Jean-Luc, I want to be one with you. Please.>>

Q heard the chuckle, felt the affection and amusement and love in Jean-Luc's thoughts. <<That's what I want, too, Q. But tonight we'll do it the human way. You have to trust me.>>

Both Q's body and his mind groaned a little in resignation. <<Very well, Jean-Luc. What must I do?>>

Q startled, mildly surprised at the sound of Jean-Luc's mellow voice. "First, no touching my mind tonight. We'll communicate as though both of us were mortal."

Q sighed and pulled his self awareness back into the body he'd created. "All right. And?"

"Second, let your body respond naturally. You have to give in to what you're feeling and not fight against it."

Q thought about grumbling but uncharacteristically resisted the impulse. For Picard he was willing to try and enjoy his body. He nodded focusing his attention on the sensation of the hands on his shoulders, the feel of Picard's skin against his, lightly stroking. The delicate touch on his back disappeared for a minute, then returned to his back, slick with oil.

The light stroking evolved into a firm, kneading massage on the back of his neck and shoulders, smoothing out knots of tension. Q murmured in surprise at how pleasant the loss of those knots was, how comfortable touch could be. The warm hands moved from his shoulders to his back, at least one always in contact with his skin.

Jean-Luc murmured softly, making encouraging noises. "Yes, that's better, my love. Just let me make you feel good."

Q relaxed further into the touches as Jean-Luc moved down his body, massaging his lower back, his buttocks and down each long leg. Q let himself sink completely into his body so that he could more fully experience the relaxation and comfort.

When Picard finished massaging each foot, he helped Q roll over and began on the muscles on the front of his legs, slowly working his way up the long body, never stopping the soothing murmur. "You wear this body like it's uncomfortable Q, but it can provide so much pleasure. I want to show you that. I want to give this to you."

Avoiding Q's cock, which was as relaxed as the rest of him, Picard continued massaging up the long body, gently soothing the muscles of his abdomen, working his pectorals with firmer strokes, easing kinks out of his shoulders from the front. Finally, Jean-Luc lifted Q's head and slid his legs underneath. Q could feel his head resting in Picard's lap.

With tremendous delicacy, Picard's strong thumbs stroked Q's face, moving from the center of his forehead, along the hair line, to end the stroke with a small, gentle circle on the temple. Then they moved back and repeated the touch, further down toward the eyebrows. Jean-Luc gently massaged Q's entire face that way, each stroke ending with that small circle on the temples. Too relaxed to smile, Q made a small murmur of contentment instead.

"Good, good," Jean-Luc whispered, "that's a good start." Jean-Luc gently eased out from under Q's head, resting it carefully on the pillow, and lay down next to Q on the bed.

Q considered opening his eyes or moving. Before his brain was engaged enough to decide to do so he felt a delicate, barely-there kiss on each eyelid in turn, then all over his face, seemingly at random, on his forehead, his cheek bones, his jaw, his temples. When one of the kisses landed on his lips, the pleasure of it surprised Q; the warmth of the kiss sendt a little jolt of electricity through his body. He gasped slightly. When his lips parted he felt Jean-Luc's tongue slip between them to touch his own.

The feel of the slightly rough tongue and the taste of Jean-Luc's mouth were better than Q imagined. He opened his mouth wider, allowing Jean-Luc's tongue free access to explore his mouth. Every touch of the searching tongue against his palate, the inside of his cheek, the area under his tongue sent another jolt through him, all that electric tingling racing from his head to his toes and back again, eventually settling in his groin.

Picard moved slightly, kissing along Q's jawline and down the tendons of his long neck, alternating firm kisses, gentle tongue tip touches and small nips. Each kiss, each lick, each bite sent a small shudder through Q's body. The pressure in his groin continued to increase, his cock growing harder.

Picard backed away with a last long lick along the outer rim of Q's ear and looked down with a gentle smile. "Ah, Q, when you created this body, you created a work of art, my love." His fingers stroked across the generous lips, now slightly parted as Q was breathed heavily.

Picard's strong, graceful hands moved over Q's chest again, distracting him from anything he might have thought to say. This time Jean-Luc's hands moved with gentle, feather touches that just brushed the tops of Q's chest hairs rather than the deliberate, relaxing strokes of the earlier massage. The sensation was more subtle, but still pleasurable. Q focused his attention on those delicate touches and gasped with building desire when his nipple was firmly pinched and pulled. Q felt it like lightning; it burned his nerves and left nothing behind but ash, until he felt Jean-Luc's mouth on his other nipple, licking and then sucking hard. He arched his back up, trying to get closer to the mouth and hand that were setting him on fire.

Q's cock felt impossibly hard now, swollen almost to the point of discomfort. He thought that his body couldn't feel any more than this when Jean-Luc backed away again, leaving his nipples hard and needy.

"Oh, Jean-Luc, that was...oh...." He was distracted from what he was going to say when warm hands stroked up the insides of his thighs and a hot tongue trailed down his stomach toward his groin. "Oh..." The nerves he thought were burned to ash flared, sending their pleasure straight into his cock.

"Q, seeing you like this...so beautiful," Jean-Luc whispered against Q's navel, before outlining it with his tongue. Q moaned and reached up to hold Picard's head in place, to get more of that exquisite feeling, but Picard moved on and was now kissing his way down the hollow of Q's hip. Q felt himself burned away by the pleasure, and still each touch, lick, kiss, bite, caress was better than the one before. Q thrashed and groaned, totally beyond anything but sensation.

Then those hot lips, that rough-smooth tongue caressed his cock and Q came, screaming with ecstasy and shock.

Q floated back to himself and his body some time later, called by Jean-Luc's rich voice whispering words of love. He found himself still lying on the bed, his head resting on his lover's chest. Picard asked, "You hadn't investigated human sexuality at all, had you Q?"

Q snorted. "Of course not. It seemed disgustingly...physical. Untidy, undignified, demeaning, and probably unpleasant, for all that you humans seem to spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about it." He snuggled up against his lover. "Thank you, Jean-Luc, for showing me I was wrong."

Smiling as he kissed Q lightly on the forehead, Jean-Luc said, "That was just the beginning, there's so much more for me to show you. And you haven't even touched on the joys of *giving* pleasure yet." Jean-Luc leaned over for a more intense kiss, then continued, "And after we explore more of the ways we can enjoy each other's bodies, we can try combining the Q and human ways of being one with each other."

Q's cock stirred and began to fill again as his lover spoke. Q sat up and, leaning over, claimed Jean-Luc's mouth with his own, pressing his long body against his lover's more compact one. When he pulled away from the kiss, he smiled and said, "Ah, Jean-Luc. Let's continue our exploration then."

END