ADVENT STORIES FOR
DECEMBER 2

CLARK/LEX

Title: Twelve Days of Christmas - Clex Style
Author: Cassandra
RATING: R
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Fandom: Smallville
Disclaimer: the Farm Boy or the Rich guy don't belong to me. Neither does
The Twelve Days of Christmas. Apologies to both owners.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Email address: zinelady@hotmail.com

Twelve Days of Christmas - Clex style

On the first day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the second day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the third day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the fourth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the fifth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the sixth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the seventh day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the eighth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Eight Hidden Hickies
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the ninth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Nine Nude Lap Dances
Eight Hidden Hickies
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the tenth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Ten Trojan Condoms
Nine Nude Lap Dances
Eight Hidden Hickies
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the eleventh day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Eleven Bare Butt Spankings
Ten Trojan Condoms
Nine Nude Lap Dances
Eight Hidden Hickies
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

On the twelfth day of Christmas my farm boy gave to me
Twelve Strained Muscles
Eleven Bare Butt Spankings
Ten Trojan Condoms
Nine Nude Lap Dances
Eight Hidden Hickies
Seven Sleigh Ride Kisses
Six Sixty-Nines
Five Blow Jobs
Four Long Hard Fucks
Three Leather Cock Rings
Two Fur-lined Mittens
And A Big Tube of Astroglide Lube

Sandy

HARRY/SNAPE

Title: Waiting For The One
Author: J. Lynn
Feedback: jlynn@zianet.com
Rating: PG (*sigh* I'll never write anything else it seems...)
Pairing : Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Summary: Do you believe in love Professor?
Date : December 2nd.
Homepage : http://groups.msn.com/tangentcentral
Live Journal : http://www.livejournal.com/users/inteligrrl /
Disclaimer: I've never been able to make anything over six pages come out decently, which definitely rules out writing four (almost five!) books. If that's not clear enough, I'll be a bit more blunt: Everything belongs to JKR, including my soul. No profit. No infringement etc.
Note: Part of the Advent Calendar - The Harry Potter/Severus Snape section at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Author's Note : Well, I got online today, and figured I'd see if I could find out what date I'd been signed up for. Lo and behold, My name was set for tomorrow! This is a slap 'n dash job, and for that I apologize. I do intend to get it beta'd at a later date, but for now you are stuck with the rough draft.
Beta: None, sorry. See author's note for explanation.

Waiting For The One
by J. Lynn

It was bitterly cold this December, Snape reflected. Pursing his lips he began selecting some of the rawer ingredients from his storage cabinets. With his luck this Christmas would be the most miserable of his thirty-six years. The only possible upside was the fact that he, Dumbledore, and Harry Potter had finally defeated Voldemort. It had taken a summer spent plotting and working together in often uncomfortably close quarters. Quite often in fact, there -

"Do you believe in love Professor?"

The question, poised by a detention serving Harry Potter, startled Severus Snape out of his revere. Turning from his perusal of the storage cabinet Snape glared at the boy, who was earnestly scrubbing out the last (and largest) of the classroom's cauldrons.

"I should think you had enough to do Mr. Potter without adding pointless philosophizing to the list."

Harry's head popped out of the capsized cauldron, and he pushed his eternally slipping glasses further up his nose before grabbing the large, stiff brush and disappearing inside again. "'M not philosophizing. It just seemed like you'd be unromantic enough to give me a straight answer."

Snape shot a glare at the five foot round cauldron. "Don't you mean pathetically single enough? I should take points Potter."

A great sigh came from the depths of the cauldron. "No, I don't mean 'pathetically single enough'." The head popped out of the cauldron once again. "'S just, I mean you're a scientist right? And a cynic. So I figured you'd be analytical enough to be able to tell me if two people can really love each other for life, or if everybody's just holding on to some desperate hope to make their future look less miserable."

The bright green eyes gleamed earnestly at him. At least they did till Snape gestured to the cauldron, whereupon they rolled and disappeared once more. There was a momentary pause before Snape said "That's a decidedly un-Gryffindorish way of looking at it Mr. Potter. Pray tell, what prompted you to ask?"

"'S just" there was a pause before the cauldron distorted voice began echoing again. "Ron an 'Mionie are together, and they want me to go to the Burrow with them for Christmas."

Severus arched his eyebrow. Weasley and Granger were involved? He'd have to be sure to partner the girl with Goyle as punishment for her sheer bad taste. "And seeing them together has brought on this cynical view of the nature of love?"

"Not exactly. I mean the two of them are just... a little more self involved than they used to be, but other than that nothing's really changed. It'll be alright."

I didn't ask, Severus thought wryly.

"I don't think the two of them are really in love, just being self involved friends with benefits. But Ron wants me to go to the Burrow, and I know he's going to try to get me together with Ginny. Putting aside the fact that she's a girl, it made me start thinking about what I do want."

"You mean other than another boy?" Severus told himself he was asking to clarify, rather than humiliate the boy.

"Erm... yeah." The blush could be heard coloring the words as Potter realized what he had let slip. "Anyhow, I figured it came down to believing in love. Either it exists, and I ought to wait for it, or it doesn't, and I can stop worrying about whether some bloke's 'the one' and get on with life." There was an awkward pause before a muttered, "Isn't there a quicker way to clean these things?"

Snape allowed himself to smirk at that statement for a moment, before turning his attention back to Potter's words and the shrivel figs. Potter was seventeen, an age at which many began to question their philosophies, but to pose the question to his least liked professor could only mean that it was something he took seriously. Well, there were only two answers, he could snarl at the boy and tell him to bother someone else, or... he could answer him.

"The existence of love is something that any rational person will question at one time or another, and each person must decide the answer for themselves. There are very few concrete answers I or anyone else can give you. I can tell you without a doubt that love can exist within families and true friendship is a very special kind of love, but beyond that I have very little knowledge. I cannot say that I believe these teenage flirtations are love. That kind of blazing and self centered passion has no place in the real world, and will flicker out once introduced to it. If a real love exists, I think it must be a far more ordinary creature than the brief flames of passion, emotion and lust that are so often mistaken for it.

"Love is knowing someone inside and out, appreciating their flaws, as well as their perfections because it is what makes them *them*. There is a lust for the body as well as an adoration of their spirit. It is both a blazing fire, and a steady flame. It is a constant thing, and a wild creature. It is often mistake, overlooked, and taken for granted, but those who know the value of what they have are wise to obey its whims and never let it go. In short Harry, I believe it exists, but is rarely found. On my more hopeful days I think I may even have seen it a time or two."

The green eyes had found their way out of the cauldron again, and were looking at him solemnly. They held each other's gaze a moment more before dropping back behind the comfortable barriers.

Harry resumed scrubbing his cauldron, while Snape made his way over to the collection of brushes. Selecting the smallest one, turned to the cauldron. "I think you may make better progress with this."

Despite looking utterly perplexed Harry gamely reached for the miniscule brush. Turning, he began to scrub. Snape watched, amused at the startled look that appeared on Harry's face as the surface he had just brushed over was immediately cleansed of the grime which had accumulated over the last several years.

As he began to slice cricket legs on a bezoar Snape remarked "Contrary to popular belief, teachers do actually try to help those who will attempt to do a good job. Even Slytherin teachers will."

Each of them worked in silence for the next ten minutes. There was a clatter as Harry pushed the cauldron upright once again and began putting away the supplies. The solvent went on the shelf and the enchanted brush clattered into the jar.

"Excuse me Sir?" Snape turned and looked at Harry, who was standing by the door.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for... well, answering me. It- it helped."

"You're welcome Potter." Snape twisted his face into his customary scowl before turning back to his cricket legs. "Now, get out before I take ten points from Gryffindor."

The smile he could feel on his back was immensely irritating. Turning around, he was about to take twenty points for cheek when Potter spoke again. "In case you were wondering Professor, I think I'll keep waiting for *my* one." There was something to the look on Potter's face that froze him.

They stayed like that for a short moment, before Harry gave an easy little half smile, and left.

"You do that Mr. Potter," Snape mumbled as he began putting away the potion ingredients on his worktable.

As Severus Snape entered his chambers, he noticed that December the second felt quite a bit warmer this year than it usually did. Smiling, he reflected that perhaps it might be a merry Christmas after all.

fin
 

JIM/BLAIR

Author: kira-nerys
Title: Christmas Time, Mistletoe and Wine
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Fandom: The Sentinel
Summary: Mistletoe and kisses.
Disclaimer. The Sentinel and characters don’t belong to me.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent
Feedback Email address: kardasi@kardasi.com

CHRISTMAS TIME, MISTLETOE AND WINE

Blair’s lips against his was a shock, a shock like nothing else ever could have been. Warm, moist – and completely surprising. He froze and the world just faded away.

Blair kissing him was something he’d dreamed of for many long nights, something he’d longed for even more fervently, but when it was happening, he didn’t know how to respond. This hadn’t been the way he’d expected it to happen – if he’d ever expected it at all.

People cheering and catcalls ringing in his ears, and the warmth of those wanted lips covering his. Just a fairly chaste kiss, over in a split second, and it left him more dazed than the most erotic of French kisses any woman had ever planted on his lips.

“Mistletoe,” Blair whispered as he pulled away. “You were standing under the mistletoe.”

That still didn’t bring the world into focus, and he followed Blair with his gaze, shocked to the bone, when he left to stand by Henri at the table, filled with candy, mulled wine and other treats.

“About time,” shouted Megan in his ears, over the cheers of his co-workers. There was Henri, Simon, Rafe and many others. They all just stared at him with some sort of indulgence. As though they’d all known that this would happen, here, today and he was just the last to know – again.

Megan handed him a cup of mulled wine, and he took it without thinking, without being able to tear his eyes away from Blair, away from Blair’s warm eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips. God, he was beautiful. He’d always thought Blair was beautiful, but he thought he’d been able to hide it better than he apparently had.

“Come on, Jim. Say something,” Blair whispered in his ear. When had he moved over here? When had Blair moved from Henri’s side to his? And when had Megan disappeared on him?

“You zoned, Jim,” Blair said softly. “I think you zoned on me.”

“Yeah, I think I did,” Jim said and finally brought himself out of the haze. He glanced up and noted with satisfaction that Blair was now standing under the mistletoe.

He kissed Blair. On the lips, and with a lot more emphasis than Blair had kissed him. With tongue. This time, the catcalls rang in his ears for several minutes, and Jim thought with satisfaction that anything worth doing should be done right.

“Wanna go home, Chief?” he whispered, enjoying the feel of the long curls tickling his face. Blair smelled good and being so close, being allowed to inhale Blair’s scent, and enjoy it without trying to hide it was the best Christmas gift Jim had ever received. He pulled away and looked at Blair whose head was bowed, as though he was trying to regain his composure. It made Jim smile.

Blair licked his lips and the flush on his cheeks became more apparent, before he lifted his head and met Jim’s questioning eyes.

“Yeah, Jim. I’d like to go home.”

END

KIRK/SPOCK

Author: CJK
Feedback: lena@warpedcore.net
Fandom: ST:TOS
Disclaimer: Not mine. Theirs.
Pairing: K/S
Rating: G
Summary: Kirk in the Nexus.
Part of the Slash Advent Calendar at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent

KIRK IN THE NEXUS

I draw my fingers through the dark, damp head resting on my shoulder. No trace of grey in that fine silky hair. But then, the wall mirror also reflects only honey-tinged chestnut strands around my own face. No wrinkles, on either of us.

The gauze curtain flaps in the breeze, and I shiver. The room's temperature shifts up perceptibly. Now it's warm enough to place us on Vulcan.

I look out of the window that's now tall and oval. Sure enough, there's a majestic red desert stretching all the way to the horizon. The walls have turned sandstone, the curtains wild silk.

Suddenly the room is too hot to breathe. Next to me he gives a surprised sigh as I stand up and walk up the window.

"Jim," he says softly.

I can't answer. Somewhere in my throat there's a clump of pain, and I can't breathe through it.

"Jim," he calls again, "come back to bed."

Finally I find the words. Right ones? "Go. You are-- not real."

The room shifts. We are in the cabin again, the night-time forest sleeps outside the square window pane. He is standing next to me, clad in jeans and a flannel shirt. His hair is salt and pepper now, like I remember it. From the last time I saw him. The real him. The deep lines on his face make him look like a wood sculpture.

"I can be," he mutters against my neck as I turn away. "I can be as real as you want me to be."

Soft words. Seductive. False.

When I look again the room is empty, and the velvet curtain moves in the wind.

------------------------------
http://www.warpedcore.net

SPIKE/XANDER

Title: Deck the Halls
Author: Kelandris the Mad
RATING: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer. No profit is made and no disrespect is intended to Nicholas Brendan, James Marsters, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy or UPN. Really, I am a small and insignificant slasher who deserves not to be sued for this small outpouring of fannish devotion.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at:
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
Feedback: kelandris@drakmail.net
Author’s Notes: This may be slightly AU, but I wanted to bring Spike and Xander together before a) Anya’s return, and b) Spike getting neutered. This takes place roughly between “Beer Bad” and “The Initiative” in season four.

“Deck the Halls”
by Kelandris the Mad

The lights never went up right. At least five times when he’d lived upstairs in his own room, he’d tripped and fallen, stringing them up. Once he’d sprained his ankle. Once he’d broken a chair, and his father had stormed up the stairs and broke one of his ribs for good measure. Once he’d nearly strangled himself, and twice he’d nearly fallen out the window.

But now he was in the basement. The basement was underground. Nothing could go wrong in the basement, evil lights or not. Humming something he couldn’t place words to, he pinned up the first set of lights without incident. He supposed, reflecting back on things later, he’d gotten overconfident…

***

“Bit dank in here, innit, pet?”

Xander whirled at the dark, sardonic tone falling from the top of the stairs, and tangled himself in the lights he’d been stringing unevenly along the small basement windows. He landed unsteadily, face down on the bed, and quickly pushed up onto all fours, trying to get free of the light cord.

“Tsk. We might just have to plug you in, luv, see what pretty colors you turn.”

Spike. Behind him. *Spike*. Hand on the back of his neck and raising him and--

“Wait,” he gasped. “How’d you get in?”

“Man upstairs. Smelt as if he’d been drenched in alcohol and mint. Rather unpleasant. He said come right in.”

He could have sworn Spike was laughing at him, but he couldn’t turn around. **Thank you, Uncle Rory,** he thought resentfully, and then the hand on the back of his neck moved. Stroking. Touching. Caressing, was that too insane a word, for what those long, cool fingers with the chipped black nail polish were doing to his neck now?

Xander blinked, shivering, and felt the vampire press closer. He felt Spike press against him and froze, eyes clenching shut.

**I’m sorry, Buffy, I’m sorry my stupid uncle let him in, I’m sorry I’m sorry, please don’t let me come back and try to kill you and get dusted for it--damn it, I just got back to *town*--**

The blond leaned in, licking the back of his neck, and Xander felt his cock twitch in his striped boxers.

**What the--oh, no. Oh, *no*--**

“Mm,” Spike murmured behind him. “You smell *wonderful*, pet. Has anyone ever told you?”

*Now* he had a bigger problem. If Spike touched anything else--and God, *why* hadn’t he been decorating with a stake handy, this *was* Sunnyhell after all--

--and who *knew* light cord was this friggin’ *strong*, struggling to get out of it only seemed to make it wrap tighter around his arms and torso--

--and then Spike bit him.

**Fuck--**

Just…bit him. Tilted his head back, screw the preliminaries, no more threatening banter, just *bite*. And it *hurt*. But the hurt was fading, and Xander stiffened in Spike’s arms, wanting the hurt to stay, wanting it to hurt a lot *more*, because what was replacing it…

Shuddering, Xander relaxed against him, his head falling to one side.

“Oh, *God*…” he breathed. He arched up, his cock harder than it had ever been, so hard it nearly hurt more than the bite had. He was harder than he’d been when he and Wills had done their little dance of badness. Harder than when Cordelia had them parked in some inaccessible and highly dangerous location, and she had kissed her lip-gloss off, trying to swallow his tongue. Harder. Harder than anything.

Spike slipped his fangs free, lapping blood from him, and almost purred in his ear.

“That’s it, pet, just relax. I’ll drive…”

And he sliced his fangs into the wounds again, Xander moaning when he did. Spike slid one chill hand across his hips, underneath the waistband of his boxers. Xander gasped again when the vampire curled his fingers around his cock, almost unbearable circle of cold around twitching, warm flesh, and both of them sighed in the same moment.

“Mm. Some to share,” Spike said, pulling his fangs out again.

“God…stop…” Xander moaned.

“Now, do you really want me to do that, luv? I don’t think so…”

“But…I like beach parties…”

“Wouldn’t dream of deprivin’ you, darlin’.” He slid Xander’s boxers down, one-handed. His cock popped free, and Spike began to jack him off in earnest. “I haven’t drunk enough to make you wear sunglasses tomorrow, let alone make you some crazed hunk of a night thing…” The comment seemed to amuse him, and he giggled along the nape of Xander’s neck, making him shiver more.

“But…” *God*, Spike’s hands felt good on him--one fisting him, accepting each thrust of his hips with ease, and one wandering his chest, tweaking his nipples, making him pant with desire. Why now? Why Spike? God damn it--

His hands balled into fists at his sides, and the vampire laughed at his sudden tension.

“Ooh. Decided you don’t want this?”

“No--” Xander said, his voice sounding strangled in the basement chill.

“Or *this*?” Spike whispered in his ear, reaching down and cupping his balls, listening to Xander gasp.

“No--” Now he sounded as if he were pleading with Spike. Pleading. With a creature of the night. It was to laugh, save he felt more like moaning Spike’s name than laughing. And what dark and padlocked corner of his brain had developed this alarming fetish, anyway? Blond hair and eyeliner, what the hell was that about?

“Maybe it’s this you don’t want…” And Spike released him, slithering around his kneeling form to grasp his hips firmly, and draw his bobbing cock into his mouth.

Xander cried out, bucking forward, one hand reaching for Spike’s hair. It just grazed the blond locks before dropping to his shoulder, and Spike laughed, his mouth full of something Xander had never thought to see in that particular mouth.

“Aren’t we--enemies or something?” he asked. His voice was high, panicked, and the blond just laughed again, the sound vibrating through him.

“Not today,” Spike murmured against hard flesh, licking along the veined underside and moving back up to suckle the tip. Then he pulled back, sat up, and pushed Xander until he fell flat on his face again.

“What now, insults? Or maybe you--*God*!”

Spike. Spike’s mouth. Spike’s *tongue*. Spike’s tongue on his *ass*. His tongue where no one’s tongue had ever been before, never, absolutely *never*--

**Believe me, I would’ve remembered something like…God…that…**

“Spike, what the hell are you--AH!” he gasped. Spike calmly parted his cheeks, spearing him with that agile tongue, forcing his tongue inside, *fucking* him with that little twisting muscle, and Xander was thrusting back against him, moaning, shuddering, and wondering with a panicked awe how far this was going to go, anyway--

“Tsk. What I wouldn’t give for a handy tube of lubricant right about now. Pity, luv, this one’s going to hurt a bit--”

Xander, cheeks blazing with sudden embarrassment, threw himself away from the hands and the hips and the tongue--God, the *tongue*--and nodded towards the side of the bed.

“What, pet?”

“Down there,” he gasped. “Shoebox. Please--” And he nearly bit his tongue in half with the effort not to finish that sentence.

“Oh-ho--hidden wonders await!” Spike looped an arm underneath the bed, sliding out a Keds shoebox, taped shut at least twice, the tape sliced open both times. He flicked the top off with a finger, and looked inside.

“Quite the selection, Xander. I am impressed.” He grabbed a packet at random, tearing it open with his teeth and squirting the entire contents into his palm. Watching Xander’s eyes, he rubbed lubricant into himself, only breaking the gaze to pull his legs back against him, positioning the head of his cock against Xander’s puckered hole.

“Ready, then?”

“Oh, God--”

“I’ll take that as consent, pet.” And Spike pushed. Inside. *Him*.

Fuck, it hurt. It hurt like the bite hadn’t hurt, and it hurt longer, and he felt so *full* suddenly, so--

And then the feeling eased, somewhat, Spike clenching his fingers into his hips, *growling* under his breath, before pulling out, slowly, carefully, gently.

He wasn’t gentle on the return and Xander yelped. The third thrust earned a strangled moan. The fourth earned a scream, and Spike slapped a hand over his face, grimacing.

“D’ya want your soddin’ drunk uncle down here, then, wonderin’ what’s goin’ on with the boy?”

“No…but…feels…so *good*…”

He was mortified. He never thought he’d be saying *anything* like that to Spike. Ever. Even under penalty of torture. Or of suffering actual torture.

But…God…it felt good. *Spike* felt good. *Spike* felt so good, pounding him into jelly, and he was free to scream now, the vampire’s hand still clamped over his mouth. He did scream, he screamed and cried and begged for more and said Spike’s name over and over, thrusting back so he could feel every cool inch of Spike inside him, *Spike*, *inside*…

The thought was too much. He came, spraying across his brown comforter, bucking and arching back and clenching around the vampire, and while he was still shuddering his way through the sensations, Spike cried out, thrusting into him three more times, *fast*, *so* fast, and jetted fluid that felt like ice deep inside him.

He collapsed on the bed, shaking, and Spike slowly pulled out. He lifted one end of the light cord, pulling Xander up on his wobbly knees to unwrap him from the light strand, and then releasing him to flop, gasping like a beached fish, on top of the bed.

Spike smiled, zipping up, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his black jeans.

“Thanks, pet. Needed the edge off. Now I’ll just nip off and see dear friend Buff.” He grinned, and turned to go. Xander pried himself off the bed, trying to stop him, but fell back, exhausted.

**Ah, fuck it. He tries anything like this with her, Buffy’ll crack him in half and come back for more.**

He groaned at the thought, but made himself rise from the bed. Pulling his boxers up again was an effort of Herculean proportions. Muscles unused to sex of any kind protested, and slowly he pulled the comforter off the bed, shoving it in the washer across the room and filling the little receptacle with soap.

“I gotta stop hanging lights,” he said to the ceiling, flipped the lid down on the washer, set it for ‘Heavy Soil’, and crawled back to the bed to collapse.

END

Kelandris the Mad
really, it's only a hatchet

MISCELLANEOUS: PICARD/Q

Title: Brand New Day
Author: jm
Series: TNG
Pairing: P/Q
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It's New Year's somewhere and Q wants to show Picard a good time.
Disclaimer: They, and their universe, are not mine. Really. They belong to the mighty Paramount. Not for profit, of course.
Notes: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent 
Thanks again to my super wonderful beta, Sara. Because of her this story should be at least coherant. These * around a word are for emphasis. These ::: ::: are for someone's thoughts. My second fanfic ever, written in a rush on little sleep. Beware.
E-mail: itsjustjm@yahoo.com  (send feedback if you'd like)

BRAND NEW DAY

"A ship there is and she sails the sea,
She's loaded deep as deep can be;
But not so deep as the love I'm in,
I know not if I sink or swim."
--Anon., "The Water is Wide"

Q lay sprawled out over the warm sand. Thankfully it wasn't black sand, as he was completely nude, and allowing his current form to feel the total range of sensations it was capable of. Letting his hand roam over the lovely, fit form beside him, an indulgent smile played on his lips. Idly he wondered what his companion, currently asleep next to Q, would think about the change of location upon awakening.

:::*Simply gorgeous.*::: The entity ran his palm over the other's backside, presented so nicely, as the sleeping one was on his stomach. :::I suppose I risk his anger pulling him away like this. But I've been behaving so well up until now.:::

The sky was nearly empty, but for the burning sun. The sea folded gently upon the shore, leaving its salty trace behind. And though there were signs of some sort of planned civilization, all was deserted. Silent, save for the waves and wind.

The dreamer woke. Rolling over gracefully, body gleaming in the fierce light. Sand clung to bare skin, accenting rather than concealing his nakedness. "Hmm. Somehow I don't imagine my bed is quite this gritty." The captain's deep baritone voice was deceptively mild.

Lost in listening to Picard speak, Q didn't allow himself to worry. Instead, he leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips across the other's mouth. "Be free for once, mon ami. Worlds won't come to an end while you relax." :::I've seen to that.::: The entity sent the meaning, though not the actual words, of the thought to Picard.

The captain barely noticed. He shivered with desire, the light kiss and nearness of his lover filling him with need. Battling with this was the nagging feeling that he ought to be at least slightly annoyed at the fact that he was brought unknowing from his bed to...wherever they were.

"Q, dare I ask?"

"As to the where, it's not important. And the why will be answered in time."

"How typical of you, Q. I would have been surprised if you had given me a straight answer."

"Oh, well, I'd hate to become too predictable. Perhaps..." And so saying, Q pulled Picard to him and began trailing kisses down the man's body. Over his chin, down his throat, across his chest...

"I don't think-" Picard was getting breathless now.

"Exactly. Don't think."

"But can't this wait until later?" The captain now bit back a moan.

"You tell me." And so saying, Q slowly dragged his tongue along the length of Picard's cock, already mostly erect. It instantly stiffened completely, the captain desperately trying to keep quiet while his hips thrust upwards involuntarily. :::Do you want this?::: Q seductively curled the thought around Picard's mind.

"Ooohhhh."

:::I'll take that as a yes.::: The entity again thought this at the captain, his mental voice a purr.

Picard reflexively strained to press his aching cock against that teasing mouth. Q was touching Picard with only his tongue, first swirling it around the head, then sliding it along the opening at the tip; tasting the drops of moisture there. "Are you going to continue to taunt me or are-" The captain was startled into silence. His hands had been reaching for that dark head between his legs, but were now pined down at his sides by some unseen force. Q had also, with his all too visible hands, pressed down on Picard's hips, holding him still.

The instinctive urge to struggle disappeared as his erection was engulfed in one smooth eager motion. That perfect, wet, hot mouth, sucking strongly. The clever tongue joining in, to drive all thoughts to that one point of his body. It was too much, and not enough. He wanted to be free to touch back in some fashion. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, then several invisible 'hands' began caressing him all over. Rubbing across his face, his lips. Across his shoulders and down his sides. Caressing his chest and pinching his nipples. The experience quickly became overwhelming.

His climax was upon him. "I love you!" Picard shouted as he came. Q's fingers dug into the human's hips at the declaration. The alien thrust into the sand, coming hard. Q then let Picard's cock fall from his mouth. Q sat back on the sand and gestured to a spot beside him. The man slowly moved to sit next to Q, leaning against him.

"That was...thank you," Picard spoke, sounding raw.

Q turned to him, the entity's face full of some strong emotion. He stared intently at Picard before speaking. "Do you realize how much I love you?"

"Yes, I think I'm beginning to."

Q blinked at him and said nothing. At that moment Picard wished rather fervently that he could read Q's mind. "And you love me," Q said. It was half statement, half question.

"Of course. Do you doubt it?"

Rather than answer, Q stood and pulled the human to his feet. "Come with me. I have things to show you before the sun sets." He paused for a second. "Ah yes. Before I do, there is a little something I need to take care of." With a snap of his fingers, they were cleaned and dressed. It wasn't the typical Starfleet uniforms they usually wore, however. Each was dressed in loose, casual clothing as fitted the climate.

"Shall we?" Q went to take Picard's hand. Apparently he didn't doubt that the captain would accompany him. It soon became equally apparent was that he was wrong.

"Wait. I am not going anywhere with you until you explain this." The captain gestured out around him. "I have a feeling that things here are not what they seem. We are in a place that appears to have been molded by some sort of sentient society, yet I see no signs of these same life forms. These structures," Picard walked off the sand onto a paved path, reaching out to place his hand on a kiosk type building, "they show no sign of decay. No evidence that they have been standing unoccupied for any length of time. Additionally, I see no immediate evidence to explain the disappearance of those that must have lived here."

The captain now turned around to face the entity. "Q, what exactly is going on here?" He was frowning.

"Even when you're angry you're beautiful."

"What?" Picard was completely nonplused.

"Never mind, Jean-Luc. I will explain the discrepancies you describe. Or rather, I'll show you." With that he raised his hand and snapped. Slowly, in a manner most surreal, humanoids began to appear. It seemed almost as if they gradually poured into existence. Their forms emerged with a clamor of activity. A whirl of noise, and movement. Shifting into this reality with a vengeance.

Picard, in his surprise, unthinkingly moved out onto the path. Q quickly grabbed him and pulled him back against the wall they had been leaning on. "Careful, Jean-Luc. I won't have you getting hurt. Stay back with me and watch."

"Where are they all coming from?" Picard's voice was hushed in awe.

"There's no need to worry about them noticing us just yet. That will happen in a few minutes without them quite realizing we weren't standing here before."

"But where-" Picard's eyes were still focused on the flux of people moving into his vision.

"My dear, let me explain this simply so that we can move on to better things. You and I have now moved onto their plane of existence. We've stepped in to say hello, so to speak. This is their world as they see it. I was already planning on doing this, but in a somewhat different fashion. However-well, you forced my hand. You're usually not this impatient, Jean-Luc. I should have realized how you would react to a bit of a mystery." Q regarded him fondly and pulled him into an embrace. "*Now* can we go about the business of having fun?" :::You trust me here, don't you?::: This mentally directed towards Picard.

:::Yes.::: Jean-Luc not only thought it, but thought it *at* Q.

The entity smiled as he reached out for Jean-Luc's hand. "My, you are getting better at that all the time, mon capitaine." This time Picard happily entwined his fingers with Q. Since everything seemed stable now, they walked out into the flow of humanoid traffic. Most of the traffic seemed to be heading to or coming away from a single point. They started towards it.

Everywhere around them were people on foot, wandering leisurely or hurrying briskly somewhere else. All were dressed in the same loose, causal clothing that Picard and Q wore. With one difference. While the natives sported muted, pale swirls of color and other neutral elements; the travelers had on brighter, more vivid clothing. Picard had to smile at Q's fashion sense. No one seemed to look at them askance, however. The human had to feel grateful for that. And then Picard realized something else. He couldn't understand anyone. They were all speaking in low, musical voices with a heavy reliance on body language and hand gestures. It was a remarkable experience considering the captain was used to having universal translators taking care of everything for him.

Looking around, he decided that they must be in some sort of open air marketplace. Small 'shops' were erected at intervals, some with more of an eye toward being permanent than others. People were chatting, exchanging goods, and resting on benches provided at intervals along the paths. In between the paths were strange rocks, riddled with holes, and bits of vegetation. In some places the patches of open earth were larger, allowing for huge trees to grow up high into the sky. These were also rather unusual. They had twisted, gnarled trunks that seemed to be formed of several smaller trunks rather than a single whole. The branches were broad and reached out a good long distance. And stranger yet, appearing to grow out from these branches were thick, long root-like objects, trailing towards the ground. The whole provided adequate shade from the sun.

"What are we here for, to shop?" There was a tone of amused disbelief in Picard's voice.

"Just relax, Jean-Luc. Enjoy yourself! Shall we grab a refreshment?" Q led them to a small building which looked like its main purpose was to serve food and drink. Off to the side was a grouping of tables and chairs under more of those strange trees. There was a large open 'window' with a counter running along in front of it. It was here that people went up to place their orders and receive their food.

"Q, surely you could simply 'snap up' something. And you don't require food or drink."

"Well, I've learned that humans tend to enjoy getting things in the more usual way from time to time. And I can eat with the best of them when I feel like it. Right now I feel like sharing this experience with you." He placed his arm around Jean-Luc and guided the man to the counter.

When they got to the counter Q mentally asked him if he wanted to eat, drink, or both. Picard sent back that he was just thirsty. Then, flawlessly, in the native's tongue, Q asked for some beverages. With a nod their drinks were off being prepared. Quickly, two glasses were placed on the counter. As they took them and walked off, Picard commented, "Ah. How nice to have something that didn't come out of a replicator."

"Not bad. Rather tart," Q replied as they continued walking. They passed what looked to be a male holding an exotic creature with several other people gathered around to touch and stroke it. Further on there was a small stage with a few people performing some music in a clearing while a little group watched them from some benches in front. As Q and Picard passed by, the performers finished up and got down; only to be replaced with a group of boisterous children who jumped around and sang to applause from the adults. Q led Picard off to a side path where there were a series of small booths crowding in, winding about in such a maze that you couldn't see the end of them.

Walking along, Jean-Luc wrapped his arm around Q's back. The entity did the same, pulling his lover close. Finally beginning to relax, Jean-Luc began to enjoy looking at all the wares for offer, and the interesting interaction; the alien dynamic between the peoples of the marketplace. Stopping at one booth, a round bauble caught his eye. At first glance it looked clear. But when he really peered into it, a translucent blue glow seemed to radiate from the inside. It was fascinating. Looking up, with gestures and pointing he managed to get his point across. The store keeper nodded. Carefully he picked the thing up in his hands. It was perfectly smooth, and surprisingly heavy. Cool to the touch. Not something he expected from an object that gave off light. As he held it, the illumination seemed to increase. The light became somewhat painful if he stared directly into it.

Holding it a bit away from him, it lit up the whole area around them. The trees had kept this maze of booths fairly shaded, but now a blue glow filled the place. The shop keeper began to get excited. Gesturing, the shop keeper rapidly spoke in little bursts. Q smiled faintly and nodded, while he replied in kind. The shop keeper leaned forward and closed Picard's hands over the bauble, effectively covering it. Then with a single pat to his closed grasp, the shop keeper sent them on their way.

Naturally the captain was extremely puzzled and curious. "What was *that* all about? And what is this object that I am now the apparent proud owner of?"

"Well, it is rather complicated. It will definitely take me some time to explain. Yes, I think it's something best left to another day. There are still some things I want to show you before the sun sets. Which will be soon. Very soon."

"And what happens when the sun sets?"

"You'll just have to wait to find out, mon capitaine!"

"Must you always be so vague?"

"You wouldn't have me any other way, Jean-Luc."

"Indeed. You have me interested to find out, I'll grant you that, Q. Now, what do I do with this bauble?"

"Here, allow me." Q reached out and took the thing from Picard. As soon as the entity touched the object, it stopped glowing. He then placed it in a pocket of his loose clothing. "And now we'll continue on our way. Come, there is so much more! Oh, and by the way, Jean-Luc. I can make it so that you understand them the next time you have to talk to one of them." Q turned to Picard, waiting for an answer.

But Picard shook his head. "Actually, I find that I'm rather enjoying the challenge. It's quite...refreshing."

"Of course. You know, you have amazed me several times today. I'm impressed." Q sounded extremely pleased.

"I have impressed the omnipotent being? How so?" Picard raised an eyebrow up at Q, but he was grinning.

"Shall I count the ways? Let's see. You rather graciously accepted my little trip. You've adapted quite well to your changing surroundings. Your telepathy is improving immensely. You're even starting to show enthusiasm for our jaunt. And, of course, you don't yet realize how significant the episode with the bauble is. Well, and you're just *you*. I couldn't possibly be attracted to anyone who wasn't interesting and didn't show promise." At this Q embraced Picard and they kissed. People walked around them, smiling indulgently.

They were both reluctant to pull away. Their mouths separated but their arms were still around each other. Q looked down at Picard and kissed him again on the forehead. Randomly he declared, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" This was said in his best over-the-top manner.

Before he could say anything further (if indeed he was intending to), Picard cut him off. "Now Q, love poetry? That's not your style."

"Perhaps. But who is to say you know all there is to know about me, Jean-Luc?" He gave the captain's backside a squeeze and released him. Then they were off walking some more. They would stop to look at this or that, invited to touch whatever they wished. Picard got more adept at conversing with the locals. His gestures were smoother, and he got his point across more quickly. At various places there were booths of food. The vendors would hand out samples to the passer-by. The natives seemed especially drawn to Picard and Q's more brightly colored clothing; and would eagerly seek to offer up morsels of food. The two tried it all. Everything seemed more intense, more real. The food, even when not completely to their liking; tasted better for their surroundings, the company they kept, and, of course, for not being replicated.

Q stopped abruptly on the path. He grabbed Picard's hand and whirled off in another direction. He cut across between two booths where there was a path that Picard wouldn't even have realized was there. Moving briskly along the path, Jean-Luc suddenly understood where they were heading. "Back to the beach." He didn't realize until he said it that he'd spoken aloud.

"Brilliant deduction, Watson! You are entirely correct. Onward!"

Soon enough they were standing on the sand again. The wind had died down. The smell of the salt from the sea and the sun baked sand was over-powering. The sun itself had set. There was nothing left but a rosy glow on the horizon. "Perfect timing, mon capitaine. They'll begin in a moment." Rather than asking about what was to begin, Picard simply took Q's hand and held it. A high pitched squeal rent the air. Something shot up into the sky with a trail of smoke behind it. Then, as it reached up to the stars, it exploded with a booming crack and showered sparkles of fiery color through the air.

Picard actually laughed out loud. "What is this, Q? Old-fashioned fireworks? This is certainly an odd outing."

"Now Jean-Luc, ordinarily this would all bore me, but I'm trying to get a point across here. This is another old custom of yours, an earth holiday, that these people have in common with you. They only do this for special occasions, you know."

"And what's the special occasion?" :::And will you actually answer me?::: He wasn't really projecting this time, and Q had promised not to read his thoughts without permission, but he was thinking it rather loudly...

"I heard that. It's a celebration. Of things ending, and new beginnings."

"What's ending?"

"Today. But more significantly, what you would call a 'year'."

"Ah," Picard replied. They sat there until the last sparkles left the sky. People had gathered around them, watching the show. But as it ended, they quickly moved away. The air cooled off now that the sun had been set for many hours. Picard was feeling drowsy, and found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Q lay back on the sand, and Picard joined him; letting himself be warmed and held by the entity. "I suppose I'll miss this 'new beginning'," Picard said with a yawn.

"Oh, it's nothing, Jean-Luc. Just another brand new day."


~finis~