ANGEL and QUEER AS FOLK Fics: Christmas Kisses
In the spirit of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Solstice [and any other sort of festive thing around this time of year...], I give to you a two-fandom celebration of slashy kisses. This is your holiday gift, folks. We'll start out with the fandom I've actually written before, and move on to my popping my cherry in another fandom.
Spike/Angel -- Tradition - PG-13 - AtS Season 5
They both remember Christmases of the past, spending chilly nights in front of the fireplace and never getting the chance to pay the attention to one another that they'd have liked to. The women had always demanded their affections as they curled up on the thick rug, and the kisses and caresses were almost enough.
Spike recalls the Christmas Eve - so long ago, now - that he slipped one hand away from Drusilla's side, kissing her hard as he fumbled for Angelus under the blanket. He can still taste the blood and wine on Dru's breath. He can still hear his Sire's sharp intake of breath as hand connected with thigh. Under the blanket, Angelus' fingers caught his and their palms pressed together.
He remembers glancing over at Angelus in between kisses to Drusilla's eager lips, catching his attention, holding it. Connected with gaze and hands, they continued to pleasure the women, only half-aware of what they were doing, running on autopilot.
And later, when the ladies were sated and resting, they snuck out to meet eachother. They remember stolen kisses by the light of the half-moon, shining through a window glimmering with frost.
Now there are no women to distract them.
It's Christmas Eve, and Angel has Spike pressed to his door, not kissing, just... looking. So much more passes through their steady, intent gazes, than could ever be said with meeting of mouths. In the end, though, they kiss just the same, upholding their tradition of sorts, though there is no frost on the window as the moon shines bright behind them.
There it is, all you Spangel fans. Your Spike and Angel kiss. If only they'd do that again in "Hard Time," I'd be getting somewhere, right? Moving right along...
Brian/Justin -- I Know - R - Post-QaF Season 3
Justin is beaming as you walk down Liberty Ave, arms linked. You don't know what you did to put him in such a good mood, but you're going to find out. And when you know what it was, you're going to keep him this way.
He stops you in the middle of the street, grabs your face in his cold hands, and pulls you down for a kiss that - even though you'll deny that you did anything remotely having to do with the adjective - could only be described as sweet. You kiss him back in kind, and rock him back and forth once, then drape an arm over his shoulders and keep going. After all, Deb said she'd kick your ass if you made her Sunshine miss the impromptu Liberty Diner Christmas Bash. You know she cares whether or not you show, even if she doesn't say it.
It's a stupid custom, you think as you spot another sprig of fake mistletoe hanging from another lightpost, and feel Justin yank you toward him. He holds on tight and stands on his toes under the plastic plant bough, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth.
If he keeps it up, Deb's gonna kick your ass.
And maybe you hold on a little longer than normal this time, and you keep kissing him with your eyes closed and your mind on nothing but the fact that you really like the taste of cinnamon Altoids and Justin. And maybe he breaks the kiss this time, with a breathlessly dazzling smile and the tip of his tongue between his teeth.
"We're going to be late," he says, and you don't give a fuck, because all you want to do is find the next sprig of plastic mistletoe, so you can pin him up against the light post and kiss him until he quivers.
"Come on," you say, taking his hand and pulling him along to the next light post with festive, hanging, faux berries and leaves and twigs, and you kiss him like a starving man, because he's happy and it really fucking turns you on.
And you don't know what makes you pull back, breathing hard against his lips. And that same unidentifiable something makes you touch his face just so, and look into his eyes, but when you open your mouth to say it, "I - " you choke. "Merry Christmas, Justin."
He probably won't ever hear the words that you almost sort of said, not out loud anyway, but your body's always done the talking for you. And there's that smile again, the smile that makes you want to forget about Deb's party and all the people waiting to see him. He looks up at you, and touches your face just like you're touching his, and he says, "I know, Brian."
And maybe it's enough for him.
::cracks knuckles:: Hey, I just wrote Brian/Justin. Of course, it was schmoopy as all hell, and I didn't have to put much thought into it, but it's a start, eh? ::looks hopeful::
Spike/Angel -- Tradition - PG-13 - AtS Season 5
They both remember Christmases of the past, spending chilly nights in front of the fireplace and never getting the chance to pay the attention to one another that they'd have liked to. The women had always demanded their affections as they curled up on the thick rug, and the kisses and caresses were almost enough.
Spike recalls the Christmas Eve - so long ago, now - that he slipped one hand away from Drusilla's side, kissing her hard as he fumbled for Angelus under the blanket. He can still taste the blood and wine on Dru's breath. He can still hear his Sire's sharp intake of breath as hand connected with thigh. Under the blanket, Angelus' fingers caught his and their palms pressed together.
He remembers glancing over at Angelus in between kisses to Drusilla's eager lips, catching his attention, holding it. Connected with gaze and hands, they continued to pleasure the women, only half-aware of what they were doing, running on autopilot.
And later, when the ladies were sated and resting, they snuck out to meet eachother. They remember stolen kisses by the light of the half-moon, shining through a window glimmering with frost.
Now there are no women to distract them.
It's Christmas Eve, and Angel has Spike pressed to his door, not kissing, just... looking. So much more passes through their steady, intent gazes, than could ever be said with meeting of mouths. In the end, though, they kiss just the same, upholding their tradition of sorts, though there is no frost on the window as the moon shines bright behind them.
There it is, all you Spangel fans. Your Spike and Angel kiss. If only they'd do that again in "Hard Time," I'd be getting somewhere, right? Moving right along...
Brian/Justin -- I Know - R - Post-QaF Season 3
Justin is beaming as you walk down Liberty Ave, arms linked. You don't know what you did to put him in such a good mood, but you're going to find out. And when you know what it was, you're going to keep him this way.
He stops you in the middle of the street, grabs your face in his cold hands, and pulls you down for a kiss that - even though you'll deny that you did anything remotely having to do with the adjective - could only be described as sweet. You kiss him back in kind, and rock him back and forth once, then drape an arm over his shoulders and keep going. After all, Deb said she'd kick your ass if you made her Sunshine miss the impromptu Liberty Diner Christmas Bash. You know she cares whether or not you show, even if she doesn't say it.
It's a stupid custom, you think as you spot another sprig of fake mistletoe hanging from another lightpost, and feel Justin yank you toward him. He holds on tight and stands on his toes under the plastic plant bough, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth.
If he keeps it up, Deb's gonna kick your ass.
And maybe you hold on a little longer than normal this time, and you keep kissing him with your eyes closed and your mind on nothing but the fact that you really like the taste of cinnamon Altoids and Justin. And maybe he breaks the kiss this time, with a breathlessly dazzling smile and the tip of his tongue between his teeth.
"We're going to be late," he says, and you don't give a fuck, because all you want to do is find the next sprig of plastic mistletoe, so you can pin him up against the light post and kiss him until he quivers.
"Come on," you say, taking his hand and pulling him along to the next light post with festive, hanging, faux berries and leaves and twigs, and you kiss him like a starving man, because he's happy and it really fucking turns you on.
And you don't know what makes you pull back, breathing hard against his lips. And that same unidentifiable something makes you touch his face just so, and look into his eyes, but when you open your mouth to say it, "I - " you choke. "Merry Christmas, Justin."
He probably won't ever hear the words that you almost sort of said, not out loud anyway, but your body's always done the talking for you. And there's that smile again, the smile that makes you want to forget about Deb's party and all the people waiting to see him. He looks up at you, and touches your face just like you're touching his, and he says, "I know, Brian."
And maybe it's enough for him.
::cracks knuckles:: Hey, I just wrote Brian/Justin. Of course, it was schmoopy as all hell, and I didn't have to put much thought into it, but it's a start, eh? ::looks hopeful::