ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 5

CLARK/LEX

TITLE: Crimson Afterglow
AUTHOR: TaleWeaver
SERIES/SEQUEL: probably. There's an ep I need to see first.
DISCLAIMER: Clark, Lex and their environs belong to lots of people who aren't me.
RATING/CONTENT: Talking about sex between two consenting males. CLex subtext and actual text. Minor swearing. If it were a guy and a girl talking, it'd be PG. So that's what I'm rating it.
CATEGORY: Episode addition, semi-romance, drama.
SPOILERS: Big ones for 'Red'.
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, Rebecca's realm.
SUMMARY: After Clark's little 'want, take, have' episode, he and Lex need to talk.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Now that I've seen the episode, I'm definitely with Jenn's 'oh, yeah. Clark totally got laid.' And BasicInstincts!Clark or not, Lex is the most likely candidate. Who better to initiate you into sex than your best friend? Who does Clark work to impress besides his parents? And most of all, when you've got someone as dripping-with-sexiness as Lex in your life... why WOULDN'T you?
MUSE-IC: Goo Goo Dolls; Nickelback

CRIMSON AFTERGLOW

I was stained, with a role
In a day not my own
But as you walked into my life
You showed what needed to be shown
I always knew, what was right
I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see
With such a different sight
'Twilight', Vanessa Carlton (Be not nobody)

*

Clark hadn't ever been this nervous around Lex before. Even the split second after Lex had thrown the fencing foil at him. He'd never hesitated to stride into Lex's study previously, but here he was standing outside the door, scanning the room with x-ray for the fifth time in a minute. It was easy to tell that it was Lex in there alone; he knew Lex's skeleton by heart, had for nearly a year. Remembering that had made it easier to accept some of the realizations he'd come to over the past few days.

Lex was glaring at the computer screen as if it had a picture of Lionel displayed. Luckily, Lionel wasn't actually in there. Not only would Lex be in a better mood, and not only was this a conversation that they really needed to have - and soon - but Clark had the distinct impression that he should really steer clear of Lionel for a while.

There was no use in shuffling his feet anymore, Lex had an uncanny ability to tell whenever he was around, and he would sense Clark any second. Clark gently and silently opened the door, slipping through the gap before Lex could look up. By the time Lex did, Clark was next to his desk.

"Hey, Lex."

"Hi, Clark."

Lex sat back in his desk chair, watching him carefully. Thank God it wasn't warily. Clark didn't know if he could have stood Lex, of all people, looking at him like they had seriously misjudged him, and didn't like the new information. Like Pete. Like they were afraid, but didn't want to show it. Like his Dad. Lex looking at him like something to be assessed? Yeah, he'd done that before. Clark was familiar with that look. He was comfortable with it. He just hoped that by the time he walked out this room, Lex would still look at him as something familiar. Look at him in a way that he was comfortable with. Because Clark had a good - and scary - idea of what could happen otherwise.

"We need to talk."

"And we couldn't have done so over the past three days?"

Clark shook his head. "I was going to come over here straight away, but then I realized that maybe my first idea on what to say might not be the right thing. I needed to be sure about what I needed to say. I've done a lot of apologizing and penance over the past few days. Working out what I needed to make up for with who. It's not like the Nicodemus flower, I don't have the luxury of forgetting what I did. But in this case, I think I'm better off knowing." Clark snuck a look at Lex from under his eyelashes and added, "Some things I just prefer remembering."

Clark and Lex locked gazes for a moment, and then Clark grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over, so that he and Lex were sitting facing one another. They shouldn't have the desk between them for this conversation.

"The weirdest thing is the way people reacted to what I said. Dad always said that 'sorry' could fix anything. He accepted my apology, but it didn't fix things. He still looks at me with just a little tinge of fear in the back of his eyes, and I don't know when it'll go away. Pete's okay, but now he looks at me like he has to learn to know me all over again. Lana..." Clark sighed explosively and slumped back into the seat. "I did some shitty stuff to her in my bout of temporary insanity. She has every right to be mad at me. But that's not what she's mad over! She's mad over something I thought was settled already! She tends to really dwell on stuff, you know?"

Lex replied, "I've noticed," and his mouth twitched in a way that suggested he was restraining a snicker or sarcastic remark.

Clark smiled at him briefly, then remembered what he and Lex still had to discuss. He looked Lex in the eyes, took a deep breath, and began.

"We need to get this settled, Lex, and now, before anything starts festering. First of all, I need to know - are we still friends?"

Lex nodded instantly, and said, "I told you before, Clark, our friendship is going to be the stuff of legend. Nothing that's happened over the past week is going to change that."

Clark gave Lex his most dazzling smile. Things were looking promising. "Great! I've lived through losing friendships before. I can handle it. But more than friends... I'm finding out that's different. I only had one date with Chloe, and she doesn't look at me the same way. She never will again. I don't like it, but I can live with it. The thing is, with us? Everything's... important."

"Significant," Lex added.

"Defining," Clark came back with. "You've had a lot of impact on my life, Lex, ever since we met. You will for a long time to come, one way or another." Clark looked at his feet for a second, then braced himself to look Lex in the eye again. Lex deserved that. "I've had a wake up call in the past week. I never thought of myself as dangerous before. But now I know I can be, and just how much - you've always sensed it, haven't you? Even when I didn't know, you did. And I've always known how dangerous you can be. It didn't make me like you any less; maybe it was part of what drew us together. But if things went wrong between us, like they did between me and Chloe - I think we'd both become dangerous. Not just to each other, but to everyone."

"Is that why you're here, Clark?" Lex asked, his eyes dark and unreadable. "To make sure we don't destroy the world in our titanic enmity?"

"I was originally going to start out by saying what I've said to everyone else; I'm sorry. But then I started thinking about those few days. About what I've done to and with who, and why I was sorry for it; and then I looked back on what happened between us, and I realized something." Clark paused for a beat, then admitted, "I'm not sorry, and I'm not ashamed."

Lex didn't move, but his eyes warmed like the sun coming out from behind storm clouds, and Clark breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn't going to mess this up, after all.

"It was something we both wanted, Lex, and something we both enjoyed. Uh, right?" Clark added, in a flicker of uncertainty. Lex grinned and nodded emphatically, and Clark went on before Lex could say or do anything else. "I don't know if I want it to happen again, Lex. But I'm not sorry it did happen. When I thought about it later, it seemed kind of... fitting, y'know?" With a sense of relief so profound it was almost a blow, Clark saw that Lex understood. Lex almost always understood him; it was one of the things he loved best about him.

Lex looked nearly as relieved (in his own Lex-ish way) as Clark felt, and he frowned and asked, "Lex? You didn't think I'd come over here and accuse you of despoiling me or something, did you?"

Lex gave a shrug, and said ruefully, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "I wouldn't do that!" He sobered and added, "Something I've had to deal with over the past few days. I wasn't exactly acting like normal, but I was still acting like myself - if I was an asshole, that is. If I didn't care about the consequences of my actions. That's why I needed to make sure things were straight between us - about the right things. I didn't want you to think that you took advantage of me. I may have had a temporary personality disorder, but I knew exactly what I was doing the whole time. I didn't want to mess things up with the one person I'm still okay with over this. On my side anyway?" Clark ended hopefully.

Lex smiled and answered, "On my side too, Clark." The smile made Clark feel warm all over.

Knowing he had to work through this part of things too, Clark deliberately looked over to the precise spot on the floor where he'd lost his virginity to Lex, his heart pounding harder at the memories. Dealing with this had been a lot easier for Clark once he realized that he hadn't seduced or strong-armed Lex; they'd seduced each other. While not too helpful in assigning blame, the description was accurate, leading Clark to realize that here, at least, maybe there wasn't any blame to assign.

As well, there had been no question that Lex was more than willing; the offer had been open from shortly after they met, that Clark could tell. At first, he hadn't done anything about it because he wasn't sure he was reading the signs right. Then he hadn't done anything about it because he wasn't sure whether he wanted to or not. Or whether he should.

Lex may have had casual sex with half of Metropolis, but he took his friendship with Clark seriously. Clark knew that Lex would take sex with him seriously; and Lex had. Clark was just glad that Lex was taking this as another layer of their strange, strong, friendship while Clark figured out if he wanted anything else. What he already had with Lex was too precious to risk for anything casual.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark saw Lex contemplating the same place on the floor. "There's a very nice Persian carpet in one of the upstairs rooms, five hundred years old or so," Lex said thoughtfully. "I think I'll put it right there, to commemorate the occasion."

Clark's hopes of getting through this entire conversation in an adult manner shattered as he blushed. Partly from embarrassment, but mostly from pleasure. That the two of them having sex was something truly significant to Lex, the way it had been to him. Not just because it was Clark's first time, but because it had been with Lex. Clark didn't know if it would ever happen again, or if he would ever want it to, but knew it would always be a very special, wonderful memory. "But what are you going to do about the pool table?"

Lex grinned. "Maybe I'll have it bronzed."

"But won't it be difficult to play on, then?"

"Maybe just a little plaque on the side, then, engraved with the date?"

Clark couldn't help but chuckle, and Lex joined in. Clark took a look at his watch, then said, "I'd better get going. I've got a lot of extra chores to do to pay that credit card bill." He shrugged, "some of the clothes weren't exactly in a state to be returned."

"Who knows? You may want to wear them again, some day. I certainly enjoyed looking at you in them."

Lex's eyes danced, and Clark had a quick flashback to the stains that Lex had been responsible for, and how. He blinked hard to prevent anything breaking out in flames, then tugged discreetly at the bottom of his shirt and stood, Lex rising with him.

Lex narrowed his eyes, and gave Clark one of those hot-eyed looks that always made a tingle run down his spine. "Clark? You said that you didn't know if you wanted to repeat what happened between us. But you still didn't say 'never'."

"No, I didn't say never." Clark smiled, and closed in for a short, sweet kiss, before smiling again and walking out the door.

Lex stood still, a gentle half smile on his face, and the tip of his tongue traced over his lips, as if he could still taste a lingering sweetness.

FINI

HARRY/SNAPE

Title: Christmas Greetings
Author: Eledhwen
Feedback: (angel_eledhwen @ hotmail.com)
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: G
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter characters do not belong to me. *sigh*
NOTES: December 5th entry for the Slash Advent Calendar http://www.kardasi.com/Advent

CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

“Professor?” the thin, tentative voice comes out of the tarry darkness, faintly echoing from the bare stone walls.

After a few moments, the faint shuffle of movement in a not too stable bed, then a curt answer, the tone more than a little exasperated. “Go back to sleep, Potter. There is not much time to rest, and you will need your energy tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired.”

“I am.”

For some time, silence.

“Professor.”

“What is it, Potter?”

“It’s past midnight.”

“And your point?” Impatience clear in every clipped syllable.

“Since you’re the only other person here…” a short hesitation. “Merry Christmas.”

Eventually, grudgingly. “And to you too. Not there’s much chance of it, here.”

“No, I suppose not.”

A few minutes later. “Still, I’m glad you’re here.”

Soft snore.

Oh well. Maybe next year.

END

KIRK/SPOCK

Title: Amanda's Endgame
Author: CJ
RATING: R (Just barely)
Pairing: K/S
Fandom: ST:TOS
Disclaimer: I don't own them, though I wish I did. I'm not making any money at this, just enjoying the boys.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Author's note: Thanks to the help and patience of the Preyland
gang once again for Betan and support par excellance!

AMANDA'S ENDGAME

***

The sound of the comm-chime woke him immediately and fully.

"Kirk, here."

The lights came up 25% at the sound of his voice, but he didn't move to get up. Spock had the con and Enterprise felt at ease around him, this was probably a routine notice.

"Captain we are approaching Azredi station, and they have cleared us to enter dry-dock." Spock's voice came through with a slightly mechanical tang.

The voice was controlled and assured, clearly there were no problems needing the Captain's attention. It was the voice of his second in command, a subtle difference from the voice of his friend.

In all correctness, it was Captain James T. Kirk that answered. "Very good, Mr. Spock. Convey my compliments to the station master and have the next shift proceed with maintenance and scheduled leave." He and Spock had split the maintenance supervision and it meant they would be on separate shifts for as long as they were in port.

"Aye, Sir. Spock out."

Jim rolled over onto his side and slipped one arm under his pillow, trying to find a comfortable position. He would have to wait until second shift to find out if Spock was interested in taking any leave on the station. They should both be off then or able to arrange it. Of course he would have to find a reasonable excuse to get Spock to take leave, but there must be something. He made a mental note to check the station's concert and theater schedules then went back to sleep.

***

As Jim arrived the bridge two and a half hours later, shift change was already in progress: Uhuru was at the communications boards and Chekov was getting turnover from Reese at the helm.

"Mr. Spock, are we ready to start our level one diagnostics on comms and navigation?" Jim asked as Spock stood up from the captain's chair and took his usual position to Jim's right.

"Preparations have been completed, Captain. Engineering is also on schedule to start their overhaul of the main warp drive." Spock reported. "Azredi's technicians stand by to assist, although Mr. Scott assures me that they will not be needed." The suppressed amusement was all in the eyebrows.

Jim grinned for both of them. "I am sure Mr. Scott is correct." Jim settled back into the chair and looked appraisingly at Spock, "Plans for shore leave, Spock?"

"I have not made any plans to go on station during the maintenance work, Captain." Spock's voice was just a touch cooler as the First Officer moved to the fore. It was often like this: Spock would use their ranks to create distance. Sometimes Jim would let him. Spock was half-Vulcan and there was such a thing as respecting limits. So, he would step back, nod, and carry on the conversation as Captain.

And sometimes he wouldn't.

"I'm told Azredi Station has a wide variety of diversions, Spock. I imagine we could find something to occupy your time in a not unpleasant fashion." He grinned as Spock raised an eyebrow to half-mast.

"Azredi Station has four theaters, three concert halls, a sports arena, five hundred and thirty seven registered shops as well as an untracked number of open stalls." Spock told him drily. Jim chuckled recognizing the first parry in the argument. "It is not a lack opportunity that has led to my not planning on shore leave, but the priority of overseeing our maintenance work here on Enterprise."

"All work and no play, Spock." Jim said, and smiled, "Go on, get some rest, I'll see you next shift and we will go over to the station."

"Captain-"

"Ah!" Jim raised his hand, stopping any protests. "You shift is over, Mr. Spock, and I have the con. Go get some rest, that's an order."

"Yes, Captain."

There was something about the way Spock inclined his head, the shine of blue-black hair, the very slight admission of defeat and vulnerability in the exposure of his neck that made winning arguments with Spock a very satisfying thing. Jim loved being able to play the Captain trump.

"I'll see you after I get off shift and we can discuss plans."

"Very well, Jim."

Jim's smile turned secretive as he took three seconds out of his shift to watch Spock leave the bridge: his broad shoulders, his tight-

And then he cut the thought off, folded it up and placed it in a box.

Like waking up alert to the sound of the comm-chime, this was a command skill he had developed. There were things a commanding officer just couldn't afford to notice.

***


It was well into the shift when Yeoman Rand approached Jim with a message pad. "Sir, Azredi's Communication Center advises that you have a personal package being held on station and they are ready to transfer it over at your convenience."

Jim looked up grateful for the interruption. Overseeing maintenance details, while important, had never thrilled him. "Thank you, Yeoman." He took the pad to review it, flicking first to the screen showing the point of origin where he immediately stopped.

Was it a mistake?

He checked the sender's name and was sure.

"There's been an error, Yeoman. Get back with Azredi's ComCent and have them double check that they have the correct recipient."

He moved to return the pad, but the Yeoman was shaking her head. "I checked, Sir. They say that delivery instructions were specific in this regard. The package is for personal delivery to you, Sir."

"You checked?"

"Yes, Sir. As soon as I saw the planet of origin."

He smiled slightly at her offended tone. He should have known she would check everything before bringing it for his approval. "Very well, have it transported over and then left in my quarters, I'll take care of it after shift."

"Aye, Sir." Rand took the pad back and headed for the turbo lift.

This would delay his leave, but he hadn't found anything yet that he really wanted to see, so not a problem. There was a rather well known antique store on station that had a good selection of rare books, but he could go to that tomorrow just as easily. Spock might be interested, depending on what this package ended up being.

What could Amanda of Vulcan be sending to her son's Captain?

***

The flood of readings, tests, and results washed over him for the next three hours as the crew finished out the level one diagnostic of the communications systems and navigation. The next two shifts would be occupied with upgrades and error correction based on the results. Tomorrow it would all start again with transporters.

Jim stifled a sigh. He was glad to be beyond the stage of having to do them himself, but he knew the value of being on hand to supervise. Still, today he had other business he wanted to get to.

The turbo lift doors opened and Lt. Sulu came onto the bridge.

"Mr. Sulu, you have the con." Jim swung out of the captain's chair and was halfway to the turbo-lift before the young man replied.

"Aye, Sir."

He took the lift to his deck and walked briskly to his quarters.

Rand had left the box on his desk. He'd expected a plasfoam shipping container, but it was something much stranger. He ran a finger over the delicate carvings of forest scenes that covered the box and confirmed his first impression: it was wood. Ebony if he wasn't mistaken. The box alone was probably worth a year's pay. And it was earth-wood. Sent to him from one of the only humans to live permanently on Vulcan.

The lid came off with only a gentle tug. It was lined in plush cushioning and held something Jim hadn't seen in years: a snow globe. He gently took it out and examined it more closely. The base was ceramic and had a few imperfections but was in good condition. It was in the shape of a mountain, the top of which was actually inside the globe, covered in tiny pine trees. From the trees rose a beautifully detailed castle in miniature.

Jim gently shook the globe and watched the sparkling snowflakes float up in the viscous liquid inside the crystal globe.

Tearing his eyes from the dance of the snowflakes, he looked inside the box and found a message cube.

Finally, an explanation.

Sitting at his desk he placed the card in the reader and sat back to listen to Amanda's explanation for this very unusual gift.

Amanda's smiling face appeared on the screen. Her hair was swept up in an informal bun, less ornate than the ambassadorial splendor she had worn while on the ship. It framed her heart shaped face in a silver sweep that might have once been red. Kirk realized again how like his father Spock looked. What he inherited from his mother was far more subtle than any surface appearance.

"Captain, thank you for accepting this package from me. I realize that I already owe you a great deal for all that you did during our last meeting. The restoration of normal family relations with my son is a great relief, and for me, a joy. I cannot thank you enough."

Jim fingered the base of the globe, was it a simple thank you gift?

"It is with this debt fully in mind that I must ask for your assistance yet again."

Okay, not a thank you gift.

"Vulcans are a passionate people, Captain Kirk. You know this, I think, having participated in the kun-ut kali-fi. Another debt my family owes you."

No debt there. It had not been a favor. It had been the only way.

"Their passions are leashed: controlled by logic, meditation, and ritual. What you hold now in your possession is an artifact of one such ritual. When Vulcans are young children they laugh and cry much as human children do. Over the years they learn logic and control and put away their childhood passions. They do this quite literally, through a kind of meditative self-hypnosis which allows them to imagine placing these passions within an object designated to be their katra t'kan-wat. When a Vulcan leaves childhood, they often place the katra t'kan-wat in the safe keeping of their parents until such time as it should be returned. It is by my judgment that I return Spock's now."

Spock's childhood? Jim looked again at the castle in the globe and tried to imagine what a young Spock would have placed there.

"I feel Spock may disagree with me, Captain, which is why I send it directly to you so that you may present it to him and he may accept or reject my judgment, but not without explanation."

Not that she gave a full explanation herself, of course, Jim noted with a slight frown.

"Again Captain, thank you, and please tell Spock that I love him."

The recording ended, leaving Jim with nothing to look at but the globe. It was a puzzle, much like Spock himself. Amanda called it an artifact of Vulcan meditation and ritual, but it was obviously an antique of Terran origin. Perhaps that was why Spock had chosen it, so that it would reflect the human elements of his nature. Jim had no doubts that those were at least partly what his friend would have packed away.

The time it took him to place the globe back in the ebony box and walk down to Spock's cabin was not nearly enough for Jim to figure out how he was going to broach this topic, but he hit the call button for admittance anyway.

"Come."

The door slid open and Jim stepped inside to find Spock in uniform and working on something at his desk. The rest of the room was quite plain except for his harp on it's stand against the opposite wall and a meditation candle on the table near the bed.

"Captain." Spock greeted him with a nod.

"Mr. Spock." Jim nodded back. He looked down with a frown at the box in his hands and tried to think of how to start.

"Can I assume that you have come to resume our discussion on the merits of taking shore leave?"

Kirk smiled and shook his head, "No actually I've come on another matter."

"Is there something I can assist you with, Captain?"

"Yes and no, Spock."

"That would seem to be a self contradicting answer, Jim." Spock took his cue from his Captain and easily switched into their more informal mode of communication.

It struck Jim that this was the way their lives were: boxed. Captain Kirk and Jim rubbed up against each other but they weren't the same. His first officer was not quite the same person as Spock, the man he'd risked his career and his life for on the sands of Vulcan.

Amanda had called on the Captain, but she really should have asked for Jim.

"I received this today from your mother, Spock." Jim held up the polished wooden box.

"My mother?" One eyebrow rose, which was practically a shout.

"Amanda asked me to give it to you." Jim set the box on the table.

Both eyebrows raised now, Spock leaned forward and slid the lid off and froze.

Jim waited.

"What exactly did my mother convey to you concerning this object, Captain." Spock asked in low voice, still not looking at Jim.

"She said it was an artifact of your childhood and that she judged it time to return it to you." Jim had the familiar feeling of being caught up in layers of meaning and culture that he knew almost nothing about. He wanted to support Spock, but Amanda hadn't given him enough information to know what the next step should be.

"My apologies, Captain, my mother can be impulsive and sometimes acts without thought to the impact her actions will have on others." Spock had placed his hands flat on the table on either side of the box and stared down at the snow globe. "I shall return this object to her. You need not trouble yourself further with it."

He didn't look at Jim. He didn't move. The energy held in check, however, made Jim think of a red sky and the sound of bells swallowing up the desert air.

"She thought you might reject it." Jim told him quietly, pushing through Spock's palpable barriers of personal space with just a few steps to stand at his friend's shoulder. Spock sat rigidly at the desk, but Jim could see a delicate green flush spreading up his neck.

"What exactly did she say, Captain?"

"Just that she felt you might disagree with her, and that was why she sent it directly to me. She wanted me to give it to you and, if you rejected her judgment, get an explanation." Jim rested one hip against the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest in a purposefully casual pose, "So I guess my real purpose here is as the family intermediary."

"No, Jim," Spock said and finally looked up, "I don't believe that is the role my mother intended for you at all." His face was still impassive, but his eyes were full of so many things that Jim had a hard time sorting them out, but pain was a large part of it. Pain and shame.

This was Spock, his friend, not his second in command. This was a man who had saved his life and whose life he had saved so many times that they didn't keep track anymore. And suddenly Jim was angry with Amanda: angry with her for putting Spock through this and angry that she had not seen fit to give him enough information to resolve whatever it was.

"Tell me how I can help, Spock?"

Spock said nothing for a moment, instead turning his attention back to the globe and pulling it out of the box.

"I have always found my mother to be a very perceptive woman." Spock said. "Perceptive, and quite ruthless in her love."

He ran his fingertips over the crystal globe and the base of the ceramic mountain. Picking it up had sent the snowflakes flying again, and the castle and ceramic conifers seemed nearly swallowed in the blizzard.

"She's never really lost an argument with my father. Even when she's conceded for a time, she's won in the end." Spock set the globe on his desk next to Jim, "I think that may be one of the reasons my father married her. It was better to give in gracefully."

Jim chuckled at the image of Sarek being backed into a corner by Amanda. Spock gave the slightest turn of his mouth in agreement.

"One argument that I clearly remember revolved around Christmas. My father did not want us to observe the holiday, although my Mother considered it an important part of her heritage. Father refused to have any kind of decoration, but when I was very young Mother would help me to calculate the date equivalencies and we would figure exactly when it was Christmas at her birthplace on Earth. She would then pull out her snow globe and tell me stories about Santa's castle." Spoke laid his fingertips gently on the globe. "When I began training in the way of logic my father demanded she stop and she did."

"So he thought he'd won?"

"For a short time, until my instructors asked that I choose an object for my katra t'kan-wat, the soul of my childhood. It would be the object that I would use as a focus for control of all the raging emotions that can overwhelm a child. One of the few symbols of emotion that modern Vulcans allow themselves."

"The snow globe." Jim said, beginning to better understand the significance of the object, not just from a Vulcan point of view, but from Spock's very special circumstances.

"Yes. She had put Christmas at the center of a most Vulcan tradition. And my father could not even disapprove." Again Jim saw the twist of Spock's mouth, his cocked eyebrow, Spock's desert dry sense of humor.

"Remind me never to play chess with your mother."

"She is a brilliant player. And teacher."

"Can you tell me what argument she's winning now?"

"When I left Vulcan, I was sure that I would never return. I did not think even the Pon Farr could draw me back due to my human heritage. I had decided I would never take a spouse. Logic indicated that my life was more suited to remaining solitary."

"Your mother disagreed, I presume." Jim said smiling.

"Indeed. Most adamantly."

It was comforting to hear that even Vulcans suffered from the hubris of youth. Jim could remember any number of arguments with his father where he had been so certain he was right, only to find that the old man did know a thing or two.

"I left the snow globe with my mother. By tradition she would have delivered it to T'Pring after our marriage was made final or to my lover had I taken one after T'Pring's refusal. I told mother I would have no need of it."

Jim realized they were at the heart of the problem, quite literally.

"So this is her way of pressuring you to find another wife?" Jim tried not to sound as outraged as he felt, it was worse than finding out about T'Pring. "Seems a rather medieval attitude for a woman like Amanda. I would have thought your father would be the one pressing for a political marriage." And Jim was sure any such marriage would be political. Spock wasn't involved with anyone. He spent all his free time alone or with Jim.

"If it were a political match, then you would no doubt be correct, Captain." The distance was there again.

Spock was staring at the globe and refusing to look at Jim, using their ranks to further shield whatever Amanda stirred up. She had reached out from Vulcan and shaken her son's world, putting his neatly compartmentalized life in dissaray, and Jim really wanted to know why. Why had she sent the globe here? Why not to whomever she thought Spock should marry, since that seemed the tradition?

Why send it-?

"To me." Jim's eyes widened as he finished the thought aloud. "She sent the globe to me. On her judgment, she said."

"My apologies, Captain, for my mother's presumption." Spock's voice was hoarse and his hands were balled into fists on the desk, carefully not touching the snow globe, which had sat long enough now that the flurries were settling all around the castle and miniature evergreens.

It looked like a magical place: a place Jim wouldn't mind exploring.

"No need for apologies, Spock." Jim told him, laying a comforting hand on Spock's shoulder. Then he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Unless, for once in her life, your mother is wrong."

The shudder that ran through Spock told Jim everything. He continued leaning forward until his lips were brushing over the points of Spock's ears.

Spock didn't gasp, but when he spoke his voice was uneven, "Captain, you are under no obligation. Please-"

Jim ran his tongue down Spock's ear and nipped at his neck.

"I've never felt any obligation to be your friend, Spock, I just am. And this just is."

"This is, however-" This time Spock did gasp at the touch of Jim's hands tracing down his shoulders and across his chest.

"This is something I've wanted since the koon-ut kali-fi." Jim confessed quietly, "Don't you think I've been patient long enough?"

Spock spun the desk chair around. His face was glowing with an open joy that Jim had seen after the horrific duel on the sands of Vulcan when Spock thought he had killed Jim, only to find Jim alive back on the ship. Jim stepped back and wondered how often he could get that look out of Spock?

Before Jim could get his balance back Spock was standing and pushing him backwards. Jim really didn't care where they ended up, he was busy dealing with a tongue in his mouth that tasted of hot copper and felt like satin and hands that gripped him more strongly than any of his human lovers had ever been able to.

Their uniforms were in the way, but between them it was a matter of less than a minute to get undressed. Spock would know exactly how long, Jim thought and smiled, just as Spock actually picked him up and laid them both down on his bed.

Jim looked up and saw a whole new Spock, who was staring at him as if he had never seen Jim Kirk before either. Spock was flushed a much darker green than usual, and his skin was glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. His cock looked very similar to human, but a bit longer and thinner than average, and there were no visible testicles: the equivalent organs on a Vulcan were internal.

And that right there covered everything Jim knew about his lover's sexual physiology.

Jim ran a hand across Spock's bare nipples experimentally and grinned as his new lover hissed.

"I'm going to have a hell of a good time figuring out all the things that you like. " Jim said.

"A pragmatic approach could be beneficial to both of us." Spock leaned down and kissed him again, lowering himself slowly until most of weight was on Jim.

When they came up for air, Jim rolled them over onto their sides, stroking, petting and reveling in this new aspect of Spock: not the officer, not the friend, but the lover.

Spock didn't quite smile as he said slowly, "Do you know, Jim, that in Roanoke, Virginia, where my mother was born, it is now Christmas day?"

"Remind me to send your mother a thank you card for my gift." Jim chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Spock."

"Merry Christmas, Jim."


The End
 

JIM/BLAIR

Title: On The Fifth Day Of Christmas
Author: by Karen Colohan (kcolohan@sidsplace.win-uk.net)
Pairing - Jim/Blair Fandom - The Sentinel
Rating - NC-17
DISCLAIMER - The Sentinel and its characters is the copyright of PetFly and no infringement is intended. The story, such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan, November 2002.
Feedback is welcomed and always appreciated.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
SYNOPSIS - Blair has the perfect Christmas gift idea for Jim.

ON THE FIFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS
by Karen Colohan

Jim Ellison walked into the kitchen, crossing to where his partner Blair Sandburg was busy at the sink. He crowded close behind him, hands snaking around to dump more plates into the water. That the manoeuvre also resulted in Jim's crotch grinding against Blair's jeans clad ass was far from coincidental.

"So, Chief, we've done lunch and I'm still not seeing any sign of a present here," Jim said, his lips moving against Blair's ear. "What did you get me for Christmas this year?"

Blair managed to wriggle around until he was facing his lover. He was grinning. "Who says I got you anything, Jim? You know how they say it's better to give than to receive..."

"Fine, so I'll let you do the giving." Jim raised his eyebrows, waiting. "While I'm willing to take my chances on the receiving end."

A snort of laughter escaped Blair at the Ellison logic. At the same time he felt a surge of arousal at the thinly veiled innuendo.

"Actually, man, I do have something for you, but you'll have to wait until later." Blair sounded pleased with himself as he added, "Timing matters with this gift."

"Come on, can't you give me even a little clue?" Jim rubbed against Blair a little more, enticing him.

"A clue?" Blair pretended to be considering his answer. "Okay, here you go... I promise that your present will be a real feast for the senses."

"Feast?" Jim leaned back, watching Blair's face. "You're taking me out to dinner?"

Blair's expression was perfectly enigmatic. "Wait and see, Jim, wait and see."

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, though dinner had turned out to be prepared and eaten at the loft, leaving Jim wondering what Blair's clue had meant.

At the end of the evening Jim made his way up to their shared bedroom still present-less. Blair had headed up a little earlier, while Jim finished watching some Christmas special on TV.

"Hey!" Jim called out as he got to the top of the stairs. "Christmas is nearly over and I still don't have my present from you."

"Jim, I told you timing was everything." Blair's voice was soft as he replied.

"So..." Jim looked across to where Blair was already comfortably ensconced in bed.

"And *now* the time is perfect." Blair smiled as he flipped back the covers.

Underneath the quilt it turned out that Blair was quite naked. His hand was stroking lazily, encouraging his cock to full hardness. Blair's grin widened as he noticed how Jim's eyes had fixed on the slow movements of his hand, watching hungrily.

"Merry Christmas, Jim... enjoy your present."

Jolted out of his immobility by Blair's words, Jim crossed the room in just a few quick strides. He dropped down on the edge of the bed, studying his gift. It was only then that he noticed the small garland of mistletoe that encircled Blair's cock, nestled in the coarse curls at its base.

He grinned at Blair's not so subtle invitation, but then pulled back with a frown. "Mistletoe, Chief? I thought that stuff was poisonous."

Blair sat up, staring at his lover in disbelief. "Jim, do you really think I'd put something that was toxic on my cock?" Blair lay back down, his head thumping on the pillow. "Relax, man, it's the berries of the European mistletoe that are considered to be poisonous. This is the native North American variety that..."

Carefully, Jim laid a hand across Blair's mouth, silencing the flow of words. "All right, enough with the lecture, Chief, I may not die of mistletoe poisoning, but you're kind of killing the mood here."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who started this!" Blair protested, lifting Jim's hand away so that he could speak.

Jim laughed softly at Blair's indignant tone, then bent down over him, inhaling the warm scent of arousal. His lips grazed the head of the swollen cock in a teasing kiss. When Blair drew in a sharp breath, arching up, Jim repeated the gesture. He licked away the drop of pre- come leaking from the slit, his tongue tracing patterns across the sensitive skin.

Blair groaned softly at the sensations, all thoughts of giving Jim an impromptu lecture in botany flying out of his head.

"That would be taste and, maybe, smell," Blair said when he was once again capable of any kind of coherent thought at all. His voice was rough with want. "I think we already have sight covered."

Jim looked up, momentarily puzzled by Blair's words.

"A feast for the senses, Jim... Me!" Blair elaborated.

Dawning understanding made Jim grin happily. He stood up, quickly starting to strip out of his clothes. "Well, by my reckoning that means I still have touch and sound to go."

Naked, Jim climbed into bed beside Blair, his hands trailing over the familiar form of his lover. It was something he never tired of.

"And what would they involve?" Blair asked, gasping as Jim's fingers found his nipples and pinched them lightly.

Hot breath stirred the long curls that framed Blair's face as Jim moved his body on top of his lover's. "Mm, I think that would be me touching you until I hear you scream my name when you come."

"Jim..." Blair's voice trailed off on a ragged sigh. Jim was sliding slowly downwards, mouthing wet kisses in his wake.

When he was comfortably settled between Blair's thighs, Jim looked back up at his lover, smiling broadly.

"Oh yeah, the gift that keeps on giving," Jim said smugly as he bent to taste Blair's cock once more.

The End

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: Letting Go
Author: Jezebel
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy
Disclaimer: They aren’t mine, they belong to WB and other related companies.
Notes: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent  This is a little soppy but it's more of a Christmas story than anything - it builds on a storyline set in Restless but deals with a future that ignores most of series 6 and 7.
Feedback: eh_oh_po@yahoo.com

LETTING GO

"If you love someone, let them go. If they return to you it is meant to be, if they don't, their love was never yours to begin with."

***

*New York 2010*

William the Bloody feasted on his victim that night, a young thing who called herself Pandora although he was pretty sure that he didn't want the secrets that she kept in her box. She began to get light headed and Spike pulled away. He was a demon but that didn't mean that he had to give in to his baser instincts and he would never drain a human to the point of death. It seemed a waste to eat the whole thing at once when he could otherwise get visits from the same people every few weeks.

Most vampires gave in to the hunger, they had to kill and maim for the blood to please their beast but he was greater than that, three years as a neutered puppy of the Scooby Gang had taught him that. The initiative may have done him a favour, once he had gotten the chip that they gave him modified his life was more normal but the murder and mayhem no longer held the thrill that it once had, he was free of the demon but still able to kill.

Of course in the more modern and liberal society there were a growing number of people that knew of vampires and some that were even willing to play victim for a cheap thrill and a taste of the thrall that was so addictive. Vampire bites gave a rush that was as good as heroine but not as dangerous and as long as it was handled responsibly it was not addictive. Spike enjoyed feeding off these people the most. They called themselves "Renfields" because they came willingly to a vampire for feeding, but Spike liked to think of them as the caviar of the human race. They came willingly to him and allowed him to feed, also giving off pheromones as they enjoyed the mingling of pain and pleasure that his feeding allowed.

Pandora walked away, staggering slightly as if drunk on the thrall, and headed back to the friends that she had come to this vampire/human bar with. It was known as a regular haunt for "Renfields" and "Feeders", the title for Vampires that were known not to kill you but merely to feed, and it was also a hang out for other civilized demons.

Spike was about to pay and leave when he saw the new man that entered. It was probably the last person that he expected to see in this bar, or in this city. In fact this was the last person that he expected to see in the world. The slump of the shoulders and the blank look told him that the Xander Harris who entered the bar was not the man that he had known, but that left only one question. What was he doing here?

***

William the Bloody had been an easy man to track down, especially for a man that had the entire Watcher's Council to do his bidding. Alexander Harris, Xan to his friends, had been watching Spike for some time, but he knew that this was the time to approach him. Especially as by the flushed look on Spike's face he had just fed. Xander knew enough to know that vampires were always at their best just after feeding.

It was a long time since he had seen Spike and his heart did a little happy dance as it saw him again. But Xander was not here for his own feelings, he was here on Watcher business and since he had joined up six years ago that had been the first thing in his life.

Spike had left Sunnydale as soon as he saw Buffy was returned from the dead. Sunnydale had a slayer again, Dawn had a sister and Spike was still on his own. He had gone off one day, just abandoning his crypt and had never looked back. Xander had been left to be the man of the group, the one that all of the women went to when something needed fixed or dealing with. He had married Anya, stayed friends with Willow and Tara and been the only steady man in Buffy's life. Then he had watched all but the slayer die in an attack by a gang of Svendala demons tried to open the Hellmouth for old times sake.

Xander had waited for Spike to return, thinking that once he knew Buffy was alone and vulnerable that he would come back to claim the spoils of war, but he never did. Buffy had finally decided that she could not watch another of her friends die and had pushed Xander away and he had clung to the only person that gave him hope. Giles had joined them briefly from his new life in Bath. He had a family of his own now and a stepdaughter that he didn't want to witness the horrors of Sunnydale. He had not stayed long but he had been there long enough for him to get Xander a position within the Watchers.

The now modernized Watcher's Council had readily accepted him with his knowledge of demons and his position as right hand man of the slayer. It seemed that the new Watchers were a lot less proper and restrained than the old ones had been.

Xander was not here for Buffy though, nor was he here to reminisce with his former friend. This was to do with the end of the world as they knew it and he was almost certain that Spike would have a vested interest in that.

As he made his way over Xander tried to reel in the old feelings that had threatened to resurface as he saw Spike. Xander himself was older now, his hair shorter than it once was and thinning a little but Spike was still as he had always been, breathtakingly sexy and sensual. A deep breathe and a final chance was all Xander had to get his feelings in check and then he was next to him. He hoped that this went well.

***

"What do you want?" Spike asked, making sure that his voice was just enough of a mixture of gruff and pissed off to hide what he was really feeling. He quite liked his life now and he didn't want to end up with a stake through his heart for suggesting something that Xander would be disgusted by.

"Spike, Can I call you Spike?, I need a favour." Xander said. He was suddenly more nervous than he had been in a long time. He was used to being confident but right now he felt like the scared little school boy that Buffy had first saved from the vampires.

"You got someone you want me to kill?" Spike asked tersely in the manner that had always made Xander hard. Actually as a 17 year old boy most things about Spike had made him hard. He buried those thoughts and tried to think of something that might interest Spike.

"In a manner of speaking." Xander said, realising only after the statement had slipped out that he was speaking like a watcher and not the man that Spike had known, his entire reason for getting this assignment was that he was known to the vampire. "I mean, yes. There is someone that we need you to take out."

"We?" Spike asked. "The slayer can't even come here to ask me herself?" Spike asked. There was less hurt than Xander might have expected considering Spike was talking about Buffy, the supposed love of his unlife.

"Actually no, I'm here on behalf of the Watcher's council. They need someone to deal with a rather difficult problem which requires a person with quite specific skills. I've been authorized to offer you a large sum of money, or anything else that it is in our power to give in order for this to get done."

"What is it that you want doing?" Spike asked and Xander could sense that he was interested.

"To be honest, there is a slayer that they need you to take out, someone that has so far eluded all attempts by even our best agents. We know from our records that you can take out a slayer. All we need you to do is kill this one for us."

"You want me to kill Buffy?" Spike asked suspiciously.

Xander laughed at the thought. Spike had spent two years trying to kill the slayer, first with Drusilla at his side and then on his own, even when he had gotten the chip he had continued to attempt to kill her. He had never succeeded.

"No." Xander said. "It's a girl called Dana, she took over when Faith died. The problem is that she is not exactly what the council were expecting and she doesn't seem to want to accept her role as the chosen one."

"Spending every night killing vampires and risking her life for a public that never even says thanks, and the likely possibility that she'll die before she's twenty. I can't see why she wouldn't want that job." Spike answered sarcastically. "Why should I kill her for you just because she doesn't want the job? I think you should be giving her a bloody medal instead of getting her killed."

"She's using her skills to kill indiscriminately. She started out with just vampires but recently it spread to humans, other demons and anyone else that gets in her way. She always sends notes or evidence to her watcher because she said that he has to record what she does." Xander said. "This is a series of pictures she mailed us of her last victim."

Xander hated doing this, he had not wanted it to get this far, but it appeared that Spike was not as blood thirsty as he had once been. Maybe the others had been right and this was a way to get a reaction, once he'd seen the pictures Spike might not even want the money that they were offering. He might just kill her for revenge.

Spike scanned the pictures, the dress was white in the first few but as the pictures continued it was cut away to reveal an ample chest and alabaster skin, with each shot that passed the dress seemed to get a little more red. Spike wasn't sure what he was looking for at first, he had known murders that were a lot worse than this, hell, he had committed worse. Then he noticed something in the corner of one of the pictures that he had not seen before. It was a small china doll, dressed in an ornate red dress in a nineteenth century style and with long dark hair. The doll was standard, nothing special but there another detail that would have made Spike's blood run cold if he had still been alive. A small white blindfold covered her eyes so that she could not see the horrors of what was going on. Spike knew the idea behind it because he had purchased the latest incarnation of it. This was Miss. Edith. When Spike looked again he could see the small details on the skin of the woman that he had loved for over a century. This was definitely her body.

"She tortured her before finally staking her." Xander said flatly. "By the time that Dana was finished there was nothing left."

"Did Dru piss her off?" Spike asked. He knew that his ex-girlfriend could be a pain but really she was just an innocent that had had that innocence stolen from her.

"No." Xander replied, hating this. "This one she just did for fun."

"I'll do it." Spike said. "I'll kill her."

"I thought you might." Xander replied, but he didn't sound at all happy that Spike was taking the task. There was certainly no self-satisfaction as he spoke the words.

"I won't be doing it for Dru though, at least not in the way that you think." Spike said. "I'll do it for payment. After all you said you'd pay anything to get this job done."

"How much do you want?" Xander asked. He was actually surprised that Spike was asking for payment, he supposed that even when you were dead you needed money for some things, and cigarettes were certainly not cheap.

"I'll do the job first, I'll come for my payment later." Spike said as he slid from his chair, pulled on his leather duster and headed for the door. Xander was about to call this in when Spike turned slightly, a small smirk on his face. "After all, I know that you're good for it."

And as the vampire left Xander wondered if there was something in the conversation that he had missed. It certainly felt like it.

***

The killing had taken longer than Spike had expected. For a newly turned slayer Dana was a hard one to track down and kill. He had finally managed it by accident, apparently he had asked one too many questions to the wrong people, on hindsight they may have been the right people though because they brought her to him.

"I hear you've been looking for me." A bored voice said as she cleaned her nails with a stake. Spike rolled his eyes, wondering if this was a move that was taught in page one of the slayer handbook, it certainly deserved to be listed under slayer clichés.

"Actually, I've been looking for the slayer, so if that's you I guess I've struck gold." Spike said, allowing the response that was expected in this type of bantering.

"You won't think you're so lucky when I kill you." She said bravely.

Of course pride comes before a fall and Spike was almost certain that this time she would get her comeuppance. He had taken out two slayers before and both of those had been ones that were too cocky in their own abilities to actually train.

"You won't be laughing on the other side of your face when you're dead." Spike answered. The slayer was obviously confused by that, taking a moment to understand what he had meant, and Spike used that to his advantage.

He struck while she was still thinking over his words. Taking the chance to twist back the hand that held the stake. It worked, she yelped and dropped the stake that she had held as there was an audible snap as her wrist broke. From there it only took a few more moves to take the slayer down.

"You're a sodding disgrace to slayers everywhere." Spike said as he pinned her to the ground. "And there's no way you should have taken Dru."

"Was she the brunette?" Dana asked. "I really enjoyed killing her. She screamed so prettily."

Spike felt the beast rise in him, he was usually able to control the demon that was caged in his mind, but it roared and he snapped her neck without thought. The pain that racked his brain for a moment before he again got it under control was worth it to know that he could still kill if he needed to, especially when protecting those that he loved.

It was December now, he wondered where it was that Xander would be. He must at least have been getting news on Spike's mission as he was the one that had commissioned it. It was time to collect payment now and Spike knew what he wanted. It was time to collect his pound of flesh.

***

*London, December 24th 2010*

He should have known that a guy like Xander would be holed up in the HQ of the Watcher's Council, it was not as if they had anyone else that had that much hands on experience. The Watchers, at least as they had been were old fashioned and set in there ways. Spike was sure that Xander Harris could teach them a thing or two about what it actually meant to face a demon, he had faced hundreds of them and not just the supernatural kind but many of his own as well. Spike was sure that in Xander's life there were as many personal triumphs as there were for the greater good.

Still, none of that mattered now, at least not at the moment. Spike was there for one thing and one thing only and that was to demand payment for services rendered. Xander had promised him anything in return for killing the renegade slayer that had wrought so much damage to the world and he was here to collect.

"Can I..." The young man on reception stopped in his polite questioning as his face went ash white and he began to shake in fear. Spike supposed that at least he didn't have to tell this guy who he was. His reputation obviously preceded him.

"Tell Xander Harris I'm here to see him." Spike said, he was careful to flash a little fang as he did so, it always seemed to hurry the mortals on, especially when they knew who or what they were dealing with.

Spike leaned against one wall of the lobby, he was used to waiting around, he had spent a lot of time recently just stalking their slayer so that she could die. There was a part of him that was impatient though and he tried to force it back down. Spike had wanted Xander for over ten years, the need to have him and take him were greater than any he had felt, even his false love for the slayer. He was so close to getting what he wanted that his palms were lightly sweating and he was anxious for the first time in years.

Taking a calming breath he tried to will the beast back into the cage that it had sprung from. He heard heavy footfalls coming along the wooden floor and looked up to see the man that he was here to see, the prize that he was here to claim. Spike's beast roared and he felt a pressure. He didn't change, but he knew that it was close.

"Spike." Xander greeted flatly. Inside his pulse was racing and he wondered if Spike could hear how fast his heart was racing. Would he mistake it for fear?

"I've come to receive payment." Spike said. "I delivered my side of the bargain now I'm here to see if you'll live up to your side of it."

"Certainly." Xander said, briefly looking sideways to the scared boy on reception before turning back to Spike. "Dante, if you could hold all my calls. Spike, if you'd like to come this way."

And so Spike found himself following Xander through what felt like miles of empty oak panelled corridors until they reached a plush office decked out in similar dark oak furniture.

"You'll have to excuse the décor, we don't really get to choose." Xander said as he indicated for Spike to take a leather recliner. Xander himself moved to a fridge and took out a claret jug and two glasses before moving to take a similar chair opposite Spike.

"I killed her for you." Spike said, not really wanting to participate in the niceties of conversation. Xander ignored him, apparently set on doing this according to the stuffy British customs that he had picked up from the Watchers.

"Here." He said to Spike as he poured a glass of the suspiciously dark red liquid and then handed it to him. "It's fresh."

Spike sniffed at it, surprised to see that Xander kept a fresh batch of blood in his office and in an antique jug, it was hardly a normal thing to have around. Especially not when it smelled suspiciously like fresh human blood.

"You keep blood at the office?" Spike asked.

"I've been expecting you." Xander replied cryptically, Spike assumed that meant that news of Dana's death had reached them and Xander knew that he would be coming for his payment. "Now, I think that we discussed payment."

Spike placed his untouched blood down on the table between them and smiled. The grin was feral, almost wanton and would remind anyone that may have forgotten that this was a demon and not just a man. Xander hadn't forgotten though, there was a part of him that would never forget, but he had to remind himself that Spike was not Angelus and that he had always been better than his Sire had been.

"How much did you want?" Xander asked, he had been given carte blanche to offer whatever the Watcher's had and with the amount of money and property that the organisation had acquired over the years that was a substantial amount.

"I don't want money." Spike stated clearly.

"Then what do you want?" Xander asked. "Some spell perhaps, maybe even getting rid of the chip in your head for good."

"The chip doesn't bother me." Spike said. It was true, the chip was now nothing more than a piece of waste that was embedded in his body. As if he had been shot and they had not removed the bullet. "And I can't think of any spell that I need doing."

"But you still came here for payment?" Xander asked. "What can I offer you other than these things."

There was a brief pause, as if for dramatic effect and then Spike finally answered.

"You." Spike said. "I want you."

Xander's jaw fell. He could not believe what he was hearing. Spike wanted to kill him after all of this. He wanted him.

"You're going to kill me?" Xander asked, his confidence slipping away as he faced the real possibility that he had entered into a contract with the devil and hadn't even discussed the terms.

"No." Spike replied amused at the response. "I don't want to kill you, I just want you."

Xander was confused now, so Spike stood, moving to Xander and then pulled him up, yanking him until Xander was directly in front of him, his body pushed into Spike's own. Spike leaned down and captured Xander's lips with his own, kissing the boy hard and signalling exactly what he wanted.

Xander groaned under the assault, reaching his arms around Spike without thought and allowing the vampire further access to his mouth. If this was Spike's payment then he was glad to do this for him and not just because the Watcher's would expect him to do whatever Spike wanted so that they were no longer in his debt. Xander would do this of his own accord because he too wanted it.

Spike finally pulled away a few minutes later and Xander panted, Spike seemed amused by this because he didn't have to worry about the simple things like breathing. Xander took a moment, getting his breath back before stepping back toward Spike. Spike froze for a moment, he had expected that this would take more coercion than this. Xander coming to him freely was never something that he would have expected.

"I think that I can find somewhere a little more comfortable to pay the rest of this debt." Xander said as he leaned in to kiss Spike again, just a gentle peck this time. Then he took Spike by the hand and led him to the room he knew that was always waiting. It was with anticipation that he opened the door onto the opulent suite and pulled Spike in behind him.

***

The room was as grandiose as the rest of the HQ had been, definitely not to Spike or Xander's tastes, but there was something almost romantic about their first time being in this wooden framed four poster bed that was obviously for special occasions and visitors. Spike wasn't sure if he should be flattered that Xander had brought him here or not.

"So, where do you want me?" Xander asked bringing Spike back to the matter at hand.

"Here." Spike said as he pulled Xander to him and kissed him passionately.

Xander felt his cock harden in his pants as Spike seemed to use over a hundred years of knowledge and put it all into the kiss. Spike was fucking Xander's mouth with his tongue, thrusting and battling with Xander's own tongue for supremacy. Xander had always thought that sex with a vampire would be raw and animalistic like this, but to finally get a taste of it was like nothing that his imagination could conjure. Xander had been with men, Larry and Oz had helped him with early experimentation and since then there were a few nameless and often faceless men in bars or backrooms but nothing had turned him on as much and he had never been this hot from just kissing.

Spike buried a hand deep into Xander's dark hair, using it to pull the boy as close as possible so that he could feast on him, his other hand wandered down Xander's body, passing over nipples and then around to cup his ass. Spike pulled Xander's shirt from his pants and then slid his hand down the back of the pants. He wanted access, needed to feel Xander's skin against his own. His beast had worked so long for this moment and now it would not be quelled.

Xander groaned with pleasure, as he felt the cool hand brush against the natural heat of his body. For a moment he was unsure of what to do with his hands, but then they seemed to find a natural position on his hips. Xander felt as if he could not let himself actively touch Spike so instead he just clung on for the ride.

Spike needed more. The brief contacts of skin that he was getting was not enough now and as he began to get more into it he had to have contact of more skin on skin. He stepped back a little and reached down to undo Xander's shirt, after the first few buttons were awkward Spike growled deep in his throat in frustration and used his superior strength to rip the shirt open. Xander shivered, not from the cold air that hit his chest but from the show of dominance, to see Spike like this really turned him on and his cock throbbed in his pants as he thought about Spike fucking him hard.

"Take them off." Spike ordered, indicating the rest of Xander's clothes and Xander rushed to obey him.

While watching Xander enthusiastically removing his clothes Spike did the same, taking a little more time as he tried to calm the beast that wanted to fight it's way to the surface and enjoy Xander in ways that Spike didn't want to think about. His demon preferred the rawer, rougher sex and Spike didn't want to hurt Xander the first time around. Spike had been surprised that Xander was so open to this idea, it was as if the boy relished the task of paying off the watcher debt and Spike wondered if this could be more than a once in a lifetime thing. It wouldn't be if Xander saw the monster inside him.

Xander stood, a prominent erection bobbing freely in front of him and a tentative smile on his face. Spike smiled lasciviously as he removed his jeans and revealed his own naked skin. Xander didn't think that he had ever seen anything so beautiful.

"On the bed love." Spike said, careful to make it sound more like a request than an order, he wanted to satisfy the beast but he had to do his best to make this pleasurable for Xander as well as himself.

Xander did so, laying on his stomach so that his back was exposed as this was always the easiest way. Spike didn't like that, if he wanted an anonymous fuck he could get it on any street corner from a rent boy that would be a lot easier than Xander, but he didn't want that. He wanted Xander, and he wanted to be able to see his lover as he fucked him, so he turned Xander over onto his back and then leaned over and kissed him.

"It's better this way." Spike said. "I want to watch you as you come."

Xander nodded, secretly glad that Spike had said that because while it was more difficult he preferred it this way too. Lifting his legs to his chest Xander waited, wondering if it would be bad without lube. He tensed slightly when he felt a hand on his ass but forced himself to relax, he was surprised to feel a cool finger spread a potent smelling lubricant around his opening a moment later. He had not thought to supply anything, it wasn't as if he had thought about fucking Spike, but Spike had obviously come prepared and while this was not exactly the regular KY that people might use it was certainly making Xander feel good and relaxed.

"Hush." Spike said as Xander moaned. He was reacting to the finger that was working its way inside him, pushing against his prostate at the same time as spreading lube around inside.

Soon the appendage was joined by a second and Spike scissored them inside him, stretching the boy and making sure that he was well lubed and ready.

"Hurry." Xander said as the two fingers again pushed against his prostate. He didn't want this to be over too quickly and the way he felt he could easily have come before the main event.

Spike pulled out his fingers and ran a little of the lubricant over his own cock before easing it in to Xander's hole.

It had been a while for Xander, usually he did the fucking and not the other way around. He felt the burn as Spike's ample cock entered him, the slight pain as his body got used to the invasion and then it began to change, he willed himself to relax and settle down.

Spike waited, even though his beast was telling him to take what he wanted, he fought the demon inside him as he wanted this to be good for them both. He was used to dealing with his demon and he could deal with a little waiting if it meant that Xander was happy.

"Spike?" Xander asked, he could tell that Spike was waiting for something and wondered if the verbal response would get through to his lover.

Spike looked down at him, and Xander could see the strain, he flexed his internal muscles slightly, squeezing Spike's cock and saw that there was more going on than he had first thought.

"It's okay to let go." Xander said, sensing that there was an internal battle in Spike's mind. "You can move."

Spike took a deep, shuddering breath and then let it out, slowly he moved back, thrusting forward again and eliciting a moan from Xander. Once he heard this he knew that this was okay, Spike continued to move slowly in and out of his lover, passing Xander's prostate a few times before knocking it and causing his lover to moan more deeply at the pain.

"God...Spike...Want you..." Xander mumbled. "Please..." The litany continued as Spike continued his thrusts, in and out, in and out, changing angle and depth so that it was not too repetitive and giving Xander a good, slow fucking.

Xander was not usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth, this was amazing, his cock throbbed between them and he could feel the heat start to rise but it didn't feel enough. Looking up Xander could see the careful look of concentration on Spike's face and he realised that Spike had not changed. Angel changed during sex, Buffy had told Willow that once and she had in turn confided in Xander, he wondered if this was because Spike had more control but also thought it might be to do with Spike holding something of himself back. Xander didn't want that. He wanted all of Spike, he knew who and what his bed partner was but that didn't matter. He wanted it all and he wanted his lover to know that it was okay to lose control for a moment.

"Let it go." Xander said. "You can change..."

Spike didn't register the words at first, but then the beast in him roared. He was being given permission, not that he needed it but Spike was used to keeping a strict control on himself so that he would not do any harm. Now he felt the demon rising in him and he couldn't help the change.

Spike being in game face didn't scare Xander, not as it had scared other men that Spike had fucked in this way. Xander merely smiled smugly, knowing that he had been right and thrust back into Spike so that he was impaled more deeply on Spike's cock.

Being in his true form heightened all of Spike's senses, usually this was only beneficial in fighting, but in fucking too it gave him extra perceptions. Spike's cock tingled, noticing slight changes and moves in the tight channel that surrounded him, there was also the fact that he could now smell Xander's lust for him he could almost taste Xander's scent.

All of this added to the sensations of their encounter and Spike wondered if it was going to last, in his mind he wanted it to last forever but there were some physical restrictions that humans and vampires shared and this was one of them.

Xander too sensed that the end was close, he knew that Spike in game face would want to feed, he had read enough about vampire psychology since he had joined the Watchers and he knew that this was part of their demon's need. So, he bared his neck, wanting his lover to enjoy this as much as he did.

Spike could barely believe what Xander was doing, he didn't think the boy even knew what he was doing until he felt one of Xander's hands at his neck, pulling him down and almost forcing his fangs to the pressure point at Xander's neck. It was too near and the demon was in more control than Spike was so he could not help but sink his fangs in, nor could he help the rush of desire that spread through him.

As Spike felt the first coppery taste of blood fill his mouth his orgasm peaked, he knew that this was his lover and he was tasting him and touching him in ways that should have been forbidden, the thought alone would have been enough to make him come.

There was no ejaculation, vampires didn't breed so there was no semen produced, but Xander felt the orgasm that wracked Spike's body, he was glad that he could do that for his lover. He felt Spike drawing the blood from his body and could almost imagine it travelling from his veins, through his body and to the point of his neck where Spike was sucking. Xander's hard cock got harder as Spike sucked seductively on his neck, and as the thrall began to build in Xander he came. It was unexpected, it was very difficult for him to come without someone touching his cock, but he had managed it with Spike. Perhaps that said something about their union.

Spike felt Xander's orgasm splatter across his chest and it brought him back to a place where he could gain control. Sexually he was sated and the demon inside him was satisfied with the offering of blood that Xander had given, slipping out of game face Spike was suddenly tired and felt himself roll onto the other side of the bed.

Xander was free to move now that Spike had rolled from on top of him and he dutifully went to the bathroom to get a warm towel to cleanse them both. It would be sunset soon, so he drew the heavy drapes and checked that no light could get in. When this was done he climbed in beside the sleepy Spike and settled in with him.

There was a few unanswered questions but for now they could rest.

***

Spike woke in the middle of the afternoon the next day. Years of conditioning had him leaping from the strange bed to hide from the sun, it was only as he was half way out of the bed that he realised that the heavy drapes let in no sunlight and that Xander must have drawn them the night before. He was touched that the boy had remembered.

"Spike?" Xander called groggily, apparently having been pulled from his own slumber by Spike's instinctive reactions.

"Shhh..." Spike hushed him as he calmly made his way back to his bed and climbed back in. There was no sense in Xander waking fully and Spike wanted to enjoy holding the boy in his arms for just another few hours before he would remember what they had done.

"Is it morning?" Xander asked sleepily.

"I think it's afternoon." Spike admitted, cursing himself for his reaction that had forced Xander awake. If he had been more careful he could have held the boy a little longer.

"That means it's December 25th. It's Christmas."

Spike wondered if Xander was telling him this for a reason, as a vampire he had little use for the Christian festivals, it was not as if he could walk into a church or anything because he had an allergy for crosses and Spike had never really understood the commercialism of Christmas.

"Mmm." Xander murmurred as he snuggled closer to Spike. "This is the best Christmas present ever. I don't ever want to wake from this dream. Love you Will." Xander said, shocking his lover who hadn't expected the words, especially not from Xander.

"Love you too pet." Spike replied, placing a gentle kiss on Xander's forehead.

He wasn't sure what would happen when Xander woke up for real and realised that this was no dream, but for Spike it was a chance at something else and maybe a chance to fill a void in his life.

And for the first time in a long while William The Bloody realised that this was going to be a Merry Christmas after all.

***

END

MISCELLANEOUS (MULDER/SKINNER)

Title: Merry Christmas, Walter Skinner
Author: Diana Williams
RATING: G
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner
Fandom: X-Files
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, the show would have ended *way* differently.
Spoilers and Show Notes: Requiem, if you aren't aware of Mulder's little trip in that episode. Most of the last season didn't happen, and if it did, it didn't happen the way it did on the show.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback: Diana@slashcity.com

MERRY CHRISTMAS, WALTER SKINNER

Walter Skinner sat in his favorite chair, a glass of Scotch in his hand, and contemplated the green thing across from him. Calling it a tree was a kindness, unless Charlie Brown was a role model for you. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest tree he had ever seen.

And Mulder would have loved it.

The thought made his hand tighten on the glass. When he had opened the door and saw Scully standing outside with this pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree, he had felt such a sharp jab of pain that only good manners had kept him from slamming the door in her face. That, and the determined look on Scully's face that said she was prepared to shoot the lock off his door if he did.

So he'd done the only sensible thing; he'd stood aside and let Scully and Doggett bring in the tree, had let them set it up in front of the glass doors where the tree had always stood. Where Mulder would have put it. But he was damned if he was going to decorate the thing.

He drained the glass and rose to get another drink. As he stood at the sideboard, pouring the whisky into the glass, he glanced up and caught the reflection of the tree in the glass cabinet doors. And for a moment, it was as if Mulder was standing behind him, murmuring in his ear.

*It's not such a bad tree. And it needs us more than the others.*

"I am *not* decorating the damn tree, Mulder," he growled, slamming the stopper back into the bottle. "It's an ugly tree, and I'm not
doing it."

*********

It took him an hour to find the damn box of ornaments, stashed away in the spare room behind the boxes filled with Mulder's books and magazines. Cursing under his breath, he lugged it downstairs and set it on the floor beside the tree. It took another two hours to get the lights and garlands and ornaments hung on the tree, especially since he had to be careful when placing them so that the pathetic thing didn't tip over. He steadfastly refused to think that he was losing his mind as he set the star on top of the tree and plugged it
in.

He stepped back and looked it over critically. Well, Martha Stewart wouldn't feature it in her books, but it wasn't such a bad tree after all. He turned off all the lights except for the tree, then lay down on the couch and stared at it until he fell asleep.

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

Someone else was in the apartment.

Skinner jerked awake, instantly aware of the presence of another person. He sat up and cautiously looked around, trying to gauge the extent of the threat and discover where the intruder was.

Which turned out to be easy to determine. He was sitting under the tree, with that familiar half-smile on his face.

"Mulder?" he whispered. This had to be a dream, or too much alcohol, he thought. It couldn't be real.

Mulder dipped his head slightly to one side and the smile widened.  "Merry Christmas, Walter."

He reached out with one hand and found that, whatever he was, the man wasn't a ghost. "How…?"

Mulder nodded his head in the direction of the tree. "I followed the star home."

Behind him, the lights twinkled brightly and the star glowed. And as Skinner slid off the couch to take Mulder in his arms, he glanced at the tree and decided that it was the most beautiful Christmas tree ever.

End