Thursday - Holidays

[weesta.livejournal.com]

This is my last day as guest hostess, and I just want to say thanks so much for playing along! It's been a fun week!

Today's theme is - holidays!

Leave a prompt of something associated with a holiday - it can be an acutal day on the calendar or a well deserved vacation.

Please be kind to the Code Monkeys and remember the posting format: Your Fandom or Crossover, Your Pairing, "Your prompt". One prompt per comment.

Examples:

Supernatural, Sam/Jess, Halloween costumes

Firefly, Kaylee/Simon, day at the beach

RPS, Jeff/Jensen/Jared, green beer

More than one writer can respond to a prompt. You may leave more than one prompt, and you can answer your own prompts. And, if today's prompts are not up your alley, check out the Lonely Prompts and take one home!

Comments

Supernatural, Sam/Jess, Halloween costumes

[weesta.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Jess, Halloween costumes

Re: Supernatural, Sam/Jess, Halloween costumes

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

He's dressed as Tarzan, which is totally not his idea. The whole 'primate-man', 'me Tarzan, you Jane' thing is not Sam, not in the slightest. But when Jess comes down the stairs, her hair down and perfectly mussed, wearing nothing but a small bikini top and a far too small loin-cloth, he understands.

He growls a little as he pushes her against the wall and kisses her, hard. He slides his hands up her thighs to see just what she's wearing underneath, and she earns a gasp from him for her daring.

But her advantage ends there. Sam drops his head to the spot where her shoulder and neck meet, nibbling and sucking until her knees tremble.

She's practically writhing and he's not even really gotten started. He slides his fingers into her, thumb circling her clit, and she slides her leg around his waist to give him better access, her hands greedily working to unfasten the loincloth she'd made him wear.

He takes her up against the wall, making her scream his name as she comes, shuddering around him.

And he's gone too, biting her shoulder as he comes, panting heavily as he rests his head on the wall.

She's smiling contentedly at him a moment later and he laughs.

"You never intended for us to actually get to that party, did you?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

He grins and grabs her hand, ready to spend the rest of the evening finding out just how far this game of Tarzan can go.

Firefly, Kaylee/Simon, day at the beach

[weesta.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Kaylee/Simon, day at the beach

Re: Firefly, Kaylee/Simon, day at the beach

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Her feet sink into the sand and she thinks she's never felt anything quite this sweet in all universe.

(then she remembers the way Simon kisses her and it all slots into place)

His arms slip around her waist from behind and he kisses the nape of her neck through her hair, slightly clumsy in trying to reach skin. His nose is cold when he nuzzles her. "Mal says it's time to go," he murmurs.

Everything comes to an end. She's known that, always known that. You don't take to the sky without knowin' that one of these days you're gonna have to land. She leans against Simon's chest, watches the colourful sky and smiles. "The cap'n can wait just a little while longer, can't he?" she pleads.

She wants to stay here forever and ever and ever – and if that's not an option, she'll take five more minutes instead.

RPS, Jeff/Jensen/Jared, green beer

[weesta.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jeff/Jensen/Jared, green beer

Re: RPS, Jeff/Jensen/Jared, green beer

[wellowned.livejournal.com]

for all his height and musculature, jared holds his liquor about as well as a bucket with a hole in it carries water. so saint paddy's day? totally not his best day on any count. two green beers and he's pretty much down. horny as fuck, but down and stumbling like any other drunk.

jeff and jensen, on the other hand, seem to keep having competitions over who can drink the most before they get sick and pass out. or until the green food coloring becomes a problem. either way, it bores jared to no end to watch them put away pitcher after pitcher in a bar until all three of them are stumbling into the street, collapsed together as the only way to hold themselves up until they can get in a cab and make it back to whoever's place they're at tonight.

but jared's got a plan, see? this year, there's a house in vancouver and he's bought a few six packs to loosen them up. he's promised himself he can only have one beer cause he wants something to come out of this night. after 4 years of these guys teasing him, he ought to get something out of it.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Mohinder/Sylar, Christmas present

[takhallus.livejournal.com]

Sylar rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It had been two hours and he was still no closer to getting a Christmas present for Mohinder, despite the assistance of Josh the personal shopper. “Look, we’re getting nowhere Josh, aren’t you supposed to be the expert?”

The young man looked crushed. “I’m sorry Sir but I don’t have much to go on. Maybe if you told me some more things your friend was into?”

Sylar thought hard. “Well, he’s Indian, I guess he’d be into…Indian things. I don’t know…he likes bright colours.”

“A scarf maybe? We have some beautiful scarves.” Josh beckoned him over to a stand where dozens of garish cashmere scarves were stacked and folded.

“No,he has tons of those. It has to be something intimate, but nothing frivolous, something he can use. Maybe something we can use together.” Sylar shook his head as Josh looked at him blankly.

“I’m sorry Sir, I may have to admit defeat.” He hung his head a little, disappointed at spending two hours to gain zero commission.

Sylar cocked his head, regarding the boy’s shining blue eyes and soft blonde hair. “Now don’t be despondent Josh. I have an idea. You may be able to help me after all….”

…

“Sylar take it back!” Mohinder stood, hands on his hips as he saw his present, all wrapped up in a festive bow. “This is not a present, it’s a problem.”

Sylar shushed him playfully. “Mohinder, you’ll hurt my feelings. Not to mention Josh’s, he worked very hard to help me find a gift for you.”

“Oh really? I’ll hurt Josh’s feelings will I ?” Mohinder pulled the duct tape from Josh’s mouth. “Josh, are your feelings hurt?”

The boy coughed. “N-no Sir. Please let me go.”

Sylar rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll take him back….”

[sorchasilver.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Dean, Valentine cards

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

He finds them everywhere. The first one is on his chest when he wakes up that morning. It isn't signed, there's no note. Just one of those little cards kids give out to their class on Valentine's day.

He'd give Sam a hard time over it, but Sam is no where to be found. Not that he does a lot of looking. It's a small room. Sam isn't in either bed, isn't at his computer and there's no sound from the bathroom.

He gets up, grumbling, though looking down at the damn card he kind of smiles, not that he'd admit it. There's another one by the cup of coffee on the table. The coffee's still hot, so Sam was there not long before.

Still another is on the sink in the bathroom, stuck into the mirror. He finds one in the pocket of his jeans and another in his jacket. They're random, Barbies and turtles, pink and red hearts, Simpsons and Flintstones and some cartoon character Dean doesn't recognize.

He can't decide if it's annoying or sweet. He heads outside to see if Sam is hovering, and finds yet another tucked under the Impala's windhshield wiper. He snags it, grinning because this one is GI Joe.

On the back of this one is a note with an address. When Dean gets there, some abandoned old house, valentine's cards litter the porch and opening the door, he finds that they form a trail, up the stairs, a trail that leads to Sam. Naked.

He grins up at Dean from a bed covered in GI Joe and Transformers Valentines Cards. They don't ever do Valentine's day.

Of course, this is a month past Valentines, so Dean can let it slide. This time.

[elebridith]

Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, "easter"

[bendtothesun.livejournal.com]

Eliot doesn't celebrate holidays for the most part, they're mostly about family anyway and he hasn't been able to claim anything close to that for some time now. So when he finds a chocolate rabbit wrapped in shiny foil sitting on his desk on Monday he's at a loss for a moment as to the whys and hows.

He pauses before picking up the gaudy candy, turning it over in his hands, old memories filtering through of his mama's strawberry shortcake and his father's quiet smile as he'd steal red, ripe strawberries when her back was turned. They'd eat them on the back stoop, fearful of staining their crisp, white church shirts and giving the game away.

It's then that Hardison pokes his head into the door, “The boss has spoken, meeting in fifteen minutes”. He glances over at the man as his thumb absently smooths over a crinkle in the pink foil. Hardison glances at the bunny and then back up at Eliot, a half second of action but it makes a smile tug the corner of his lips up and he raises the rabbit at Hardison.

“I didn't know Jews celebrated Easter” An eyebrow and an expectant look at Hardison is all it takes to let him know he's in on this game.

“I am non-denominational when it comes to holidays where you receive candy and other monetary goods” He replies, the smile catching, unrepentant in his religious heresy. “Besides I'm what you could call a non-traditional believer in all things that will keep me out of the down below.”

The smile is a full-blown grin now as Eliot gives the rabbit and then Hardison a critical glance and contemplates chocolate flavored blowjobs and new traditions. “Any taboos against shortcake?” Well, perhaps not that new.

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, "I hate flying"

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

“George… you’re actually trembling. Relax! We’re barely off the ground.”

“Not barely enough. I hate flying.”

“It’s not that bad, George. This is a big plane, and the flight’s less than an hour long. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Bloody… What was that?! Was that… just turbulence, maybe? What…”

“Easy, George… it’s too soon for turbulence. Take-off’s usually a bit rough…”

“What’s turbulence, then? It’s… worse?”

“Turbulence is what happens right before the main engines go out and we plummet into the sea to our deaths.”

“What?!”

“Kidding, George. Kidding.”

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Casey/Chuck/Sarah, even the Intersect deserves a day off

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, feast

Too long - posted in two parts.

[danse-amore.livejournal.com]

Because He Needs It (1/2)

Merlin hated feasts. He hated being so far away from Arthur most of the time, hated not being able to say anything to him when he did lean close to refill a goblet or take away a dish. He hated the uncomfortable clothing and the gossip of the other servants, all about how the Prince was making eyes at some new visiting Lady. He hated scrambling for cold scraps in the kitchens afterwards, eating in silence with Gaius or alone in a dark corner.

But mostly he hated them because Arthur hated them, and there was nothing he could do about it.

This feast was particularly bad. Merlin was hungry, having been too busy cleaning Arthur's feast-robes (without the use of magic, as he'd been in the Royal Laundry the entire time and under the watchful gaze of twenty-two gossiping washerwoman) to eat anything. The lady was more beautiful, the conversation more dull, and the tension between Arthur and his father was mounting. Merlin only caught pieces, too disjointed to make any sense, but he knew it was serious. Uther's face grew darker and darker and Arthur's voice more passionate. Finally Arthur stood in a rush of velvet, bowed a sharp nod to the Lady at his side, and strode from the room.

His own dinner forgotten, Merlin slipped softly after him.

He caught up to Arthur and slipped a hand across his back, silent comfort. He could feel the muscles bunched there, tension radiating from Arthur in tangible waves. Unconsciously, he started rubbing small circles on Arthur's shoulder with his thumb, and he could feel Arthur relax a bit into his touch.

When they reached Arthur's rooms, though, he pulled away and looked at Merlin, his eyes complicated blue. "I don't think I will be needing your services, tonight, Merlin. I'll call upon you in the morning." He took a deep breath, and Merlin heard a flutter of repressed emotion, caught in his lungs like a butterfly. "And don't trouble with the feast clothes, I don't think I'll need them any time soon."

Startled, Merlin protested, "But - Arthur, what happ -"

Arthur turned away from him. "Go!" The butterfly choked him, now, his breath ragged. "Please."

Aching to hold him, but knowing that Arthur's pride would never stand for it, Merlin turned away and let his prince cry.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Christmas

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

When Nate opens his apartment door he expects the darkness and silence. He expects to spend the evening with chinese take out and a bottle of whiskey. He expects to spend the evening alone and lonely.

But what he gets is different, so much so that he stops and stares, mouth agape. A small Christmas tree, real by the smell in the air, is sitting in the corner. It's decorated with strings of multi colored lights and a few glass bulbs, nothing too much. Under it are the presents that he'd actually purchased for his team (though he hadn't been sure about giving them) along with a few extra ones that he was clueless about.

On the coffee table were a few candles, filling the small apartment with a delicate cinnamon scent that mixed well with the pine. The lights in his kitchen were on and he could hear some Christmas carols playing on the stereo that resided in the space between the living room and kitchen.

The man that came around the corner looked almost shy, but not. He was...unsure of himself. Nate almost couldn't name what he was seeing, so foreign was the uncertainty on Eliot's face. Neither of them said anything, just looking at each other as Nate shut the door softly.

He watched as Eliot walked closer, silent because his feet were bare Nate noted idly. He tilted his head, regarding the younger man curiously.

Eliot shrugged, suddenly very self concious. "My Momma would never forgive me if I let a friend spend Christmas alone..." he said quietly.

Nate knew Eliot wasn't a domestic man, so for him to go through this trouble...it was an odd gesture, one that Nate didn't know how to interpret, but indeed, it was Christmas Eve. Whatever Eliot was doing in the kitchen smelled wonderful, he'd gone through the trouble of getting a tree (a real one!) and even decorating it, as much as the man could decorate anything.

"Can't let you get on your Momma's bad side now can we?" Nate replied softly. Judging by the smile on Eliot's face, that had been the right thing to say.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

AtS, Gunn/Wesley, let it snow

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"Well the weather outside is frightful," Gunn muttered tunelessly. His weapons were well oiled, sharpened and ready.

"Oh, I know that one," Wesley smiled at him, setting the cocoa in front of him. "But the fire is so delightful."

"Yeah," Gunn sipped the sweet chocolate, enjoying the warmth, "Snow and LA just does not compute."

"So," Wesley looked around, "Everything is quiet?"

"For now."

"Sex?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Gunn's body was smooth dark shadow on crisp white sheets. Sex was slow, sensual and toe curling. They rested in each other's arms.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, night on the beach

[havenward.livejournal.com]

They're just a little bit drunk as they tumble down into the sand on their asses, Steve half on top of Chris with his arm still around his neck. Laughter echoes across the empty beach, mingling with the sound of the waves as they curl and crash around their feet. The moon is big, the sky is clear, and they've got nothing to worry about for a week yet.

"Told you this was a good idea," Steve says, still chuckling into the curve of Chris' neck. The air is just a little too warm, a little too humid, and the water feels good. He presses into Chris a little more, pleased with the flushed feel of Chris' skin under his.

"Mmm," Chris hums in agreement. Tips his head to the side and Steve doesn't pass on the opportunity to kiss his way up from his collar bone to his jawline. Chris groans as Steve's hands roam over him, finding their way under his shirt. He wraps his arms around Steve. One hand tangles in his hair and pulls, gentle but firm, til he can seal their lips together and Steve is moaning and digging his fingers into Chris with yes and more and don't ever stop.

They'll have sand in uncomfortable places later, but just now, Steve can't bring himself to mind.

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, Valentines day

[vae]

Steve's one step inside the door when he finally figures out what the look on Chris' face the whole damn way from the airport's been. One step, that's all he needs, one step so he can lower his guitar safely to the floor and take in the sight of the table in Chris' kitchen, properly set for once, cloth and all, real china and silverware, and a fucking candle in the middle of the table. There's a pot of something on the stove, and Steve stops, and turns an incredulous look on Chris. "C'mon, man. You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Chris just grins, tugs Steve's jacket away from his shoulders, and shuts the door, flicking the lock. "You mean you ain't checked the date? I'm hurt, Carlson. Wounded real deep."

The date. The date. The god damn date, it's Valentine's day, Chris has only gone and fucking gone all out for Valentine's day and that man's never going to stop surprising Steve. Not in a lifetime. Not in several and hell if he'd ever want Chris to stop. "I got the date, I just never figured you for...this."

Moments like this, where Steve forgets that Chris is a fine actor because that expression on his face looks genuine. The mix of hurt pride and the emotional shutdown that starts locking him out. "So what d'you take me for, huh? The kind to drag you in right off the plane and fuck you blind?"

Given that it's been over a month since Steve's managed to get himself as the same room as Chris...maybe that's not Chris' type, maybe it's his but he was sure as hell hoping. He runs a hand through his hair, very aware that Chris' hands are still on his shoulders, strong and warm through his shirt, and shakes his head. "Guess I figured wrong."

"Guess you did." Chris's hands drop, sliding along his arms, and then, finally, Steve gets a look at Chris' eyes, at the wickedness dancing in their depths. "Or you didn't look deep enough."

Steve takes another look. There's a candle, sure, but it's not lit. There's a pot on the stove, but it's turned down low and there's no one watching it, and if Chris was okay to leave that to come out to the airport, then it's going to be okay a while longer. Just long enough.

The hand in his hair pushes it back from his face as Steve dips his head, unsuccessful attempt to hide the slow grin stretching his lips, and chuckles. "Chris?"

Another hand joins his own, familiar guitar calluses on fingertips tracing his knuckles. "Yeah?" whispers warm against his ear.

"Happy Valentines." Steve lifts his head, leaning into Chris' hand, and lets him have the grin an instant before he's busy using his mouth to taste Chris, because that's what he's traveled to taste. Chris, not his cooking. Chris's heat and spice and smokiness, slow simmer. "Can we get to the fucking me blind bit now?"

Chris laughs, low and soft, breath hot against his face, and that's all the warning Steve gets before there's a sharp nip of teeth on his jaw, and sharp slap of hand on his ass, and he's hoisted, protesting, over Chris' shoulder and headed right past that table to the bed. "Guess maybe you figured right," Chris mutters. "Hell, Steve, you ain't been eating right, this didn't use to be so damn easy."

Steve's putting his money on Chris working out for the show rather than his own reducing ass, but there's one thing on his mind, and it's not how fucking hot Chris is when he shows off his muscles. "Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You ain't put rose petals and shit on the sheets, right?"

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, well-earned rest

[shannonrita.livejournal.com]

It doesn't matter that they've somehow both stumbled into the same hotel room. Neither of them is sure if it's his or the other guy's. And they don't care because they're so fucking tired after being awake for 57 hours straight.

Eliot can't seem to make it to the bed, eyes closing as he lowers himself down to a sofa that's too small even for him let alone Nate. It's Nate who drags at his arm, finally yanking and getting Eliot up and moving by some small miracle. The bed is big enough, they can both fit and Nate isn't shy about the fact that he snores.

Eliot is once again asleep before he hits the pillows, and Nate has to tug on the blankets to get them out from under the long haired cowboy. He eyes the shit kicker boots, then takes them off, along with socks and jeans and somehow gets Eliot out of his shirt.

He refuses to remove the man's drawers. Just ain't happening. He has just enough energy left to remove his own clothes and tumble onto the mattress, managing to flick the blankets over them both.

When they wake up about 16 hours later, they're face to face, arms around each other and legs tangled together. Eliot offers a sleepy smile, eyes sliding closed as Nate leans in and kisses him.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Orlando/Karl, Valentines Day love letters

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

"Oh, man, listen to this," Orlando said, lifting another card from the box in front of him. Most of the other boxes were already taped shut and lined along the living room wall, waiting for the movers.

Karl paused in the act of going through the closet. "Go on."

"Right, but I'll warn you, it's embarrassing as fuck."

Karl flashed him a grin, and went back to sorting through clothes. "You know there's nothing I love better."

"Here goes." Orlando cleared his throat dramatically.


"My Teddy Bear is nice and soft
It somes in handy when I'm scared
He follows me wherever I go
That is something that I know.

I gave him to you on a cold, rainy day
You held him tight
But then you broke my heart
And now I want him back."


Karl waited a beat. "And who did you sent that to?"

"Sarah Wiley," Orlando laughed. "I was nine. It was my Valentine's card to her."

"Ouch." Karl bent down, gave Orlando a quick kiss before walking on to the armoire. "Well, if she broke your heart, you had every right to demand your bear back."

"Still, she scarred me for life, she did," Orlando said, and packed the card back into the box that also held the teddy bear in question, letters from the pen pal he'd had in India when he'd been eleven, and various school knick knacks.

"Heart's a shriveled, closed fist now?"

"Well, I dunno about shriveled, but it's definitely got a few dents and bruises, and it's all her fault."

"Lucky for you I like a bargain," Karl grinned.

Orlando just harumphed and threw a pair of balled up socks at him.

***

[honeyjojames.livejournal.com]

RPS, Chris/Steve, a week off

[bwhouwant2b.livejournal.com]

Pretty sure this isn't what you had in mind, but it's what came out...

The only reason Steve is even at the store right now is because Christian has a cold and he is a whiney brat when he’ sick. So Steve’s decided to come to the store to buy some cold medicine and the ingredients for chicken noodle soup. It was either that, or kill Christian, and since he love Chris he isn’t sure that is something he wants to do. Besides, he’d miss him.

It isn’t that he’s annoyed that Christian has a cold; it’s just that they’d had plans for the first week they’d had off in like 3 months. Christian knew he was getting sick before he came home, but instead of doing anything about it, he ignored it and now they are both paying for it. None of those plans had included Christian staying curled up in their bed or on the couch under a mound of blankets.

Oh, it had included their bed, but activities that were more fun and pleasurable had been on the agenda. Steve would never say that he doesn’t enjoy the cuddling and closeness that Chris insists on when he sick, but they could be having so much more fun.

Steve just hopes that the next time they have a week off together, no one is sick and they can actually enjoy themselves.

Also if you want a bit of Christians side check out Love Is (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/13439.html?thread=1881983#t1881983)

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Viggo/Karl, Giving Thanks

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

Twilight, Carlisle/Edward, hunting trip

"When it was just the two of us", Twilight, Carlisile/Edward, hunting trip

[yoruichiyoshi12.livejournal.com]

Before the others joined the Cullen family, Carlisle and Edward would hunt together; the younger springing forth like a tightly wound cat, playing with his prey before finally sinking his teeth in, while Carlisle preferred to wait, stalking the unsuspecting elk, then lash out with a quick blow to the neck, breaking the spine cleanly. And when they both had their fill, they would lay out in the sun together.

His first time in direct sunlight, Edward had been amazed by the diamond like sparkle of his skin. He turned his hand this way and that, staring at it for over five minutes.

Carlisle chuckled and reached his hand over to lace his fingers with the young vampire’s. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Edward’s voice was soft as he watched the iridescent display that their intertwined fingers created. Mesmerized, he pulled Carlisle’s hand closer, brushing his lips against the elder’s knuckles. “One of the only beautiful parts about being what we are.”

Carlisle frowned slightly and Edward caught part of his thoughts.

“No, I don’t regret what you did for me, Carlisle. I’m grateful for every day. You saved me.” He leaned over and kissed Carlisle’s cheek, brushing against the corner of his mouth. Edward felt as if he was blushing but he knew he had no blood in his body to do so. Perhaps it was just his body’s memory of past blushes.

Carlisle pulled Edward closer. They fell into the rhythm of slow, hard love making; the elder taking time to find spots that made the teen’s toes curl, while Edward did his best not to grip Carlisle’s shoulders too tightly, fighting not to lose himself in the newborn vampire strength and ecstasy.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

TW, Ianto/Jack, Christmas Holiday

Christmas at Torchwood

[guiltyreasons.livejournal.com]

At Torchwood you did not get a Christmas Holiday off. Especially when an angry alien puts anger bombs into the most popular gift since Tickle-me-Elmo. The bombs meant everyone was yelling, hitting and some were even killing their families.

Torchwood had stopped it all after five family massacres and six single killings. That was thirty-two people dead on what should have been the happiest day of the year.

It was over though and Gwen had gone home. She had Rhys' family party to go back to and she'd begged to stay. Jack had insisted she go home on her holiday and rest up.

That left Ianto and Jack alone in the Hub. It was a holiday, but not inside these walls, least Ianto didn't think so. He cleaned up and went to start some filing down in the archives when he heard Jack cough in the distance.

"Yes," he asked noticing Jack was holding something behind his back.

"I got something for you," Jack said sauntering his way over to Ianto before offering the gift.

It was wrapped up in metallic looking paper and the box was just the right size for a stop watch. It seemed the only option of what might be inside. He opened it and the sight of it took his breath away.

It was the base of a hologram projector that started playing right when Ianto opened it up. The images were of Jack in many different area's of dress. Some of the clothing looked so out of the world it must have been a future. There were in a few of him naked in different poses. All of it made Ianto smile.

"I know, I know. How is that for my ego showing, giving you myself for Christmas," Jack said chuckling once and shrugging.

"No, no I like it. I don't actually have any pictures of you," Ianto said pulling out the device and seeing familiar buttons like play, stop, fast forward, on the stand.

"It's dangerous for me to show up in too many photographs, but you know how that is," Jack explained.

"I didn't get you anything," Ianto said pausing the hologram on one of a normal, everyday, looking Jack in his coat and a happy grin.

"I'm an easy man to please," Jack said with a smirk.

"Oh," Ianto said making his way closer and putting his hand on the back of Jack's neck, "I'd like to test that out."

"Ho, Ho, Ho and a Merry Christmas," Jack said before capturing Ianto's lips in his own.

[galor5.livejournal.com]

Lotrips, Viggo/Orlando, Fireworks

[zee113.livejournal.com]

Viggo moved in him slowly and it felt like heaven. His weight was heavy on Orlando, his breath hot against his skin; and the smell of arousal was overwhelming.

'Fuck,' Viggo shuddered and Orlando could feel that he was close to coming. But that was alright since Orlando was close himself, close ever since they got into bed. He tried to distract himself with listening to the AC unit whirring to life, watching the city lights filtering through the curtain across the window, but to no avail. He always preferred to bottom because his arse was so sensitive to erotic stimuli, and Viggo perfected his technique a long time ago. He knew how to aim his thrusts, how to adjust his rhythm, so that he would bring maximum pleasure to the both of them. At the same time, even.

Like now.

Orlando moaned in pleasure as Viggo's cock moved in him and his hand played his groin like a master musician. He pressed frantic little kisses to Viggo's lips, cheeks, neck, everywhere he could reach, and moaned again appreciatively. He embraced Viggo tighter, clung to him with all his might. The pleasure he felt was electrifying, every nerve ending coming to life.

'Moremoremoremoremoremore...' he kept whispering but he was past knowing about it. All he knew was that his toes curled, hes legs shook, even his skin, his hair shivered in his wondrous, wondrous orgasm. He could half sense Viggo coming too, his cock pulsing in him, hot seed filling him up, but then the fireworks started behind his eyelids.

When he came to, Viggo was lying limply on him, his breathing heavy, his hands caressing Orlando absentmindedly. Orlando shuddered with delicious aftershocks, the fireworks still filling his vision; and it took him ages to shake off his disorientation enough to notice that his eyes were open.

He also saw fireworks with his eyes open. Wow.

For a crazy moment he thought that this is how he would feel all his life, shagged out and obscenely happy, and even wondered how he wouldn't be able to give a sad face in front of the camera anymore; and then he realized that he could hear the rockets, too, over the pounding of blood in his ears.

'Viggo,' he said and shook him a bit. 'Viggo, can you hear the fireworks too?'

Viggo groaned and rolled off of Orlando.

'Yeah,' he said. He wiped the sweat-soaked hair out of Orlando's face and kissed him lovingly on his lips.

'I ordered it for you, to celebrate your arrival,' he said with one of his loopy grins that Orlando loved so much.

'You did?' Orlando beamed. Not everyone would get into such extremes...

'C'mon,' he got up and pulled Viggo after him. 'C'mon, I wanna watch it then.'

They stood at the window, naked, and admired the fiery flowers, trees and wheels, all the miracles the human mind could think of to entertain. Orlando felt that he was never happier in his life.

Of course he was quite miffed when he learned the next day that Viggo was just teasing him and the fireworks were for a national holiday. He pouted his worst pout but luckily Viggo knew exactly how to make up to him...

[mornincamper.livejournal.com]

SGA/SG1, John/Jack/Daniel, "These knees don't surf" (spring break)

Unification Day, Firefly, Simon/Jayne,Fireworks

[just-imriel.livejournal.com]

The Captain was drinking too much and spoilin' for a fight. Zoe was right there with him, sippin' her own drink and standing ready to back Mal's belligerent ass up. Wash was Wash, smiling and enjoying the idea of Mal and Zoe kickin' some Alliance ass. Wash was a fella with issues, in Jayne's opinion.

Jayne could see all this clear as if he were in the tavern with them like he'd planned, not being opposed to a little ass-kickin' (and not nearly as particular when it came to whose). But Wash had said draw-straw, and Jayne Cobb got the short one as usual. Pullin' watch when he was clearly the better man in a fight, well, that damaged his calm.

The Doc was holed up inside, cleaning and organizing the med bay like it was a church or something. River and Kaylee had headed off to town a while ago, laughing and wavin' at him where he sat in the open bay, determined at least to get his share of fine fresh air before they shipped out again. That would likely be soon if Mal got up to his usual tricks. The wide band reciever at his side crackled occasionally, but it was a quiet evening, folks were celebrating. His knives were laid out all around him, and he took the luxury of time to check each one carefully for nicks or scratches, to clean and hone and oil the blades.

Serenity was nestled down behind a ridge that blocked her from the sight of the town below and left just one line of approach for anyone with the mind to come calling. He kept part of his awareness fixed there, while the rest succumbed to the familiar rhythms of his chore.

The first burst of light overhead surprised him enough that he nicked into his thumb. Who'd have thought anyone on this gos-se rock could afford fireworks? Something curled in his belly at the sight. Fireworks had been a rare joy in his hard-scrabble childhood and he'd never lost the wonder. He turned and ran towards the med bay, not pausing to examine the impluse, bursting through the door and startling Simon to his feet.

"What is it?" Simon peered behind Jayne as if expecting a horde of reavers to appear, then turned back to him, his expression a familiar combination of annoyance and curiosity. "Well?"

Jayne hated feelin' a fool, and most times that's just the effect Simon had on him, so it would only stand to reason that Jayne hated Simon. Only he didn't. Which made him feel foolish. He shook his head roughly, forsaking introspection, and thrust his (barely) injured thumb under Simon's nose.

"Cut myself."

Smart ass made a point of leaning in and peering close to see the damage. "Oh, indeed. I may need to sedate you to take care of this."

Hwun dan.

"Never you mind. Dunno what I was thinking." Jayne snatched his hand away and sucked protectively on his thumb for a moment.

"Fireworks caught me by surprise, is all. No need to trouble you, Doctor Important."

He turned to stalk away, stopped, ruined the moment by turning back. Simon's gaze was gentler now, more pure curiosity than anything else, a soft smile played at his lips. Hwun dan. Jayne examined the scuffed toes of his boots for a moment, muttered "Fireworks" one last time, and headed back outside.

It was a fine display, fine as any he'd ever seen. Jayne stood with his feet apart, hands in his pockets, head thrown back, and drank it all in. The colors were so bright you could forget for a minute that life was mostly grey. Each flash of light was a memory - his hand in his ma's, looking up at her and the lights above. His ma's hand in his, and she looking up at him this time, he'd grown so tall, and he looked down and could see the lights reflecting in her eyes.

He wasn't expecting the footsteps behind him, but he wasn't truly surprised, either. It didn't make sense, but nothing about Simon did. Simon-sense, maybe. Unexpected, unsurprising, but not unwelcome.

"May I join you?"

"You hafta ask?"

Simon laughs a little. "Yes".

Nothing to say. Jayne lifted his arm, drew Simon to stand in front of him, looking out. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist and bent his head to brush his cheek against silky black hair that smelt of clean, faraway places. When he looked up again it seemed to him the fireworks were even brighter than before.

[sorchasilver.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney, wrapping presents

Wrapped up, SGA, John/Rodney, wrapping presents

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

Rodney hated wrapping presents. He never saw the need. He wasn't used to giving presents and he certainly wasn't used to getting them. The few presents he'd given Elizabeth over the years were never wrapped and he always left the room before she got a chance to tell him what she thought.

But this was different, this was for John and he wanted it to be special. He'd spent months working on the robot and he wanted to see the surprise on John's face, the anticipation.

However, whilst Rodney found making the robot an enjoyable and not very tasking hobby it was quite another matter when it came to wrapping it. In hindsight he should have just stuck it in a box first but Rodney had already started so he was damn well going to finish.

It was a mess. Rodney was covered in sticky tape and glitter that had appeared from nowhere and made him sneeze. He slipped on a roll of paper and almost crushed the robot, flicking on a switch that made it go beserk.

The robot, 'Robbie' Rodney called it, wasn't exactly an AI but Rodney could swear it had a mind of its own as it began to wrap him up with the paper, tying his hands together with twine and it wasn't until Robbie had fixed a red, ribbon-bow in Rodney's hair that it felt it had accomplished its task and powered down.

"Er, help?" Rodney muttered, unable to move. He tried to tap his ear piece with his shoulder but that only served to knock it off. Rodney whimpered, resigning himself to his fate.

It hadn't been that long actually, a half hour at most and Rodney was sleeping peacefully, exhausted from long nights working that as soon as he had nothing to do he feel asleep almost instantaneously. He woke up to the sound of John chuckling.

"Wait, I can explain. I, uh-"

"What?" John says, grinning.

"I made you a robot." Rodney blushes, rolling the sentence into one big word that John is still able to decipher. "For you. For, erm-" Rodney is cut off by John's lips covering his.

"You didn't have to." John smiles, eyes shining, hand stroking through Rodney's hair, removing the bow before loosening the twine around Rodney's hands, brushing the skin there with his thumb. "I've got all I want wrapped up in front of me." Rodney frowns until John kisses that frown away.

Maybe Rodney has mastered the art of wrapping presents after all.

[little-missmimi.livejournal.com]

Inara generally gets more requests around the holidays, although she keeps plenty busy during the rest of the year. She prefers the holidays, actually, especially the more celebratory ones; even the Alliance kicks back--less chance of Mal and the crew running into trouble. She can always be grateful for small miracles, if not the ones of Earth-That-Was.

Purim in the Core, and there’s a gala on Londinium, as there has been for as long as she can remember. The hall is alive with the buzz of conversation (and some are already buzzed from the champagne). Jacob Rosen--she’s escorting him tonight: a tall, charming politician--passes her a fluke, she pretends to sip delicately and smiles up at him. He asks her for a dance--a mere formality--and tries not too wince when he steps on her foot because he’s too busy looking at her eyes to concentrate.

--

Aside from the slight swelling he’d caused, Jacob is really one of her better choices; while she’s gotten good at reading people, Inara occasionally ends up with someone she misjudges.

“It’s so nice to finally see your eyes without that mask around them,” he says as he gently slides the elastic of that gilt-plated mask over her hair.

--

“And the queen returns from her court,” Mal announces when he enters her shuttle-- unannounced, but she’s a little tired and still floating on the joy of seeing so many familiar faces.

“Not a queen,” she says, and she feels real. No mask, no not-quite-right costume, and no one to whisper half-truths in her ear.

“Well then, my not-queen,” and he bows. “I ain’t royalty myself, but would you do me the pleasure of escortin’ me to my bunk?”

He’s not a gentleman--he hasn’t been molded into society’s ideal, but he’s honest, and Inara respects that. Even more so when it comes from someone who scavenges to get by. She kisses him neatly on the mouth in lieu of a response.