Title: "Merry Christmas, George"
Author/pseudonym: CharlieMC camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: "Profiler"
Pairing: George Fraley/John Grant
Date: December 16, 2000
Archive: Sure, contact me first, please [template must stay with fic]
Series: no
Status: complete
Category: SLASH
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, I'm only borrowing them -- I intend no disrespect to anyone.
Summary: Written especially for all my friends at the Georgeprofilerslash list -- consider this your Christmas present story for 2000! A little PWP quickie for the fun of it!
Warnings: Again, slash is same gender involvement -- if it's not your cup of tea, please go away nicely.

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The party had been friendly and fun and George was glad he'd been able to stay late chatting with various people after being warmed by several glasses of wine. Even Bailey Malone had been in a good mood, which was something of a Christmas miracle...

George was alone in the elevator, though he'd started to walk out with John Grant, who was amazingly dateless on this occasion. But John had suddenly stopped dead -- said he'd 'forgotten something' -- and turned on his heels back into the large room they'd just departed.

George had called out a 'good night' as he continued to walk toward the elevator, but he wasn't even sure if John had heard him. If John had heard, he hadn't acknowledged George.

George's long-time life partner, Richard, had decided to go to his family home for the holiday season for the first time in several years. His father was ailing, and had apparently decided he wanted to come to terms with Richard's 'life choices.' It was the first time in recent years that Richard hadn't been touring during the season, and George had been disappointed by his decision to go home.

"I'd like to spend the holidays together for a change," he'd said, trying not to allow his voice to sound annoyed or whining as he watched Richard pack.

"Look, I'd like that, too, but I've already promised my Mom I'll be there. Dad might not see another Christmas, George. What do you expect me to do?" Richard hadn't made any attempt to keep his voice from showing just exactly how annoyed he was with George.

"Then I should go with you."

Richard gave his open suitcase a small shove and straightened, turning toward George. His eyes were stormy. "No. I'm not going to go home to see my Dad for what might be the last time taking along..."

He didn't finish, but instead he leaned over a pile of sweaters and began to shove them in the bag, his lips set.

George refused to get angry. He refused to cry. His lover didn't want to take him around his family, but what of that? Life as a gay man was full of rejections and disappointments of this exact nature.

"Okay. Maybe you can call me?" George's voice was resigned and quiet.

Then Richard had turned to him, hugging him tightly.

"Of course I'll call! Don't be silly, George. It's not like I want to be separated from you."

Then they had kissed, and George had realized he had already forgiven Richard. Forgiven him for being ashamed of George and forgiven him for wanting to see his family more than he wanted to spend Christmas with his lover. Sure, it meant another holiday season alone, but George was actually pretty used to it.

George had driven Richard to the airport, and they'd had enough time to go to one of the airport restaurants and enjoy brunch together. Their parting had been pleasant.

George had returned to his usual work routine, only allowing himself to feel bad at night when he'd had to sit alone eating his dinner in front of the TV. Or when it was time to crawl alone into bed...

And now it was a few days before Christmas, and everyone else seemed to have so much to do -- and people to do things with. The holidays were certainly depressing when you were all alone.

The ding of the elevator reaching the basement level drew George out of his reveries. He moved toward his car, ready to make the drive home to his dark and quiet home.

He stood for a moment, the smell of concrete and gasoline assailing him. Then the elevator gave another ding behind him, and he turned to see John Grant emerging into the garage.

"Hey." John said, smiling at him.

"Hi. Guess I was 'wool gathering' or something," George replied, smiling back. He couldn't help admiring John as he glanced over at his friend's perfect features, strong nose, dark blue eyes and dark hair -- hair which tended to curl if John let it grow out at all.

As usual, John wore an expensive suit in complimentary colors. The man had an excellent sense of style for someone who wasn't gay...

George moved in the direction of his car, a bit surprised when he realized John was walking beside him. "Um, where are you parked?" he asked.

John gestured in a different direction. "Over there. Just thought I'd walk you to your car."

It was a nice gesture, but a bit odd, George thought. "It was a nice party," he offered.

"Yeah."

John wasn't exactly talkative for someone who was taking the time to walk him to his car...

They continued to move toward the car together, both silent. Finally, they were there, and George yanked free this keys. "Well, this is me," he said, expecting John to bid him 'goodnight' and turn away.

John just stood there, lips parted, staring at George. What did he want?

The garage was quiet. No one else was there, though there were many cars parked around them. It seemed that there were always cars, no matter the given time of the day or night.

Seconds were ticking past, but George felt uncomfortable simply turning away and getting into his car; it seemed a terribly rude thing for him to do.

"Ah... George?" John said softly. George nodded, wondering if John really felt he needed to get his attention under the circumstances.

"I was wondering..."

"What's that, John?" George prompted, wondering if his friend would have continued without encouragement.

John cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you'd like to come by my place."

George was surprised. "Now?" he asked.

"Yeah. I mean, did you have plans?" John seemed nervous -- somewhat unsure of himself.

George considered while they stood silently looking at each other. "Sure. Why not?" He finally managed.

John broke into a huge smile, suddenly reaching out and slapping George on the shoulder, startling him.

"That's great, George! Just great. Maybe we should just take my car... what do you think?"

George felt somewhat stunned by this 'ebullient' John Grant who'd so swiftly replaced the 'boo-boo kitty' Grant of moments before.

"Sure. Whatever you say, John," he managed, his grin crooked, but happy.

John's arm went around George as he guided him in the direction of his car. Suddenly they were chatting merrily, laughing about the off-key "O Holy Night" that one of the office staffers had presented so earnestly late in the evening.

"Good thing the poor girl was so drunk," George said, laughing, "so hopefully she won't remember just how awful she was."

"Yeah, but I think it helped when she pulled her sweater up to her neck," John added, laughing so hard he was red in the face.

"Well, you may think so, but it didn't help it any for me," George managed between chuckles.

Suddenly that struck them both as hilarious, and they were laughing so hard they were leaning into each other to keep from falling down.

When their laughter subsided, they were standing with their arms around each other. George looked into John's face, where tears of merriment were streaming down his cheeks.

The impulse was so strong that George didn't question it. He leaned in toward John. Then they kissed.

George felt slightly surprised when John didn't pull back from him. He was even more surprised when John's arms went up around him and crushed him to his chest.

Now this was cooking, George reflected, almost gasping for breath.

Finally they parted, though neither drew away from the other.

"I know it's wrong, George. I know you've got a guy... I just can't help it."

"Hush. We both know I've got a guy, but he's not here, is he? You are."

John gave a short laugh. "Love the one you're with, George? That sounds a lot like me and all my women."

George raised a hand to stroke John's face. "No. I love you all the time, John. I don't care if it's wrong, but after all we've been through together..."

Then John was pressing in again, and they were kissing again, and suddenly the dank aroma of gas fumes and earth seemed heady stuff to George. It didn't matter that they were in the dim light of the parking garage; didn't matter that they'd both been drinking and might have regrets in the morning. Their kissing was getting more and more intense, and John was starting to paw at George insistently.

George broke free with an effort and held John at arms length. "Hold on! I don't think this is the place -- do you?"

John shuddered as he brought himself under control and George hoped to God this 'animalistic' John would come out to play again when they got over to John's place. He'd only rarely seen John show this 'oh-so-masculine-and-macho' physicality. It was incredibly appealing.

John's hand was shaking slightly as he stuck the key into door and yanked it open. He grabbed George's arm and was shoving him toward the vehicle. "In... Come on. Let's go!"

"Okay, John, it's okay. Do you want me to drive?" George spoke soothingly, knowing his calm tone would most likely further annoy the excited man.

John shook his head, his eyes flashing as they bore into George's for a moment. "No. I'll drive. Really, George... I'm okay."

George hoped what John was saying was true. Even at this late hour he didn't want to be driving the city streets with someone who wasn't concentrating properly on his driving. (And with all the many holiday parties going on, there were plenty of people 'under the influence' to worry about.)

Happily, John's driving was skilled and cautious. They reached John's home without difficulty.

George could see that John was still charged with energy as he sprang out and then leaned in to 'help' him from the car. George reflected that John seemed almost gentlemanly with him!

They went inside without speaking, the air between them electric with anticipation. John snapped on lights and they were soon embracing -- seeking each other's mouths in a frenzy. The kissing and touching seemed to go on and on. George could feel his own erection pressing painfully into the rock hard muscles of John's leg.

"The- we need..." he managed to gasp out, "...let's. Can we please go in the bedroom, John?"

John pulled reluctantly away and turned to open the bedroom door. He reached in and snapped on the light, then stood in the doorway waiting -- staring over at George. George moved quickly to his side.

Once in the room, he had eyes only for John. His friend's hands were suddenly gentle as he began unbuttoning George's shirt.

George stood smiling as John undressed him. It was such a wonderfully intimate feeling to have someone remove your clothes for you, he thought.

John backed away, his eyes traveling up and down George's body, as he yanked his own tie free and let it fall to the floor.

"I'm not that much to see," George said, feeling slightly embarrassed by the scrutiny. "But I know you must be, John. Let me help."

John stood, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as he waited for George. George moved quickly to peel away the expensive suit jacket and silk shirt. John kicked off his own shoes, his hands on George's shoulders for balance.

George found this action amazingly arousing. There was something about John using him in this fashion - trusting him so completely - that went beyond his wildest imaginings. The reality of John Grant here beside him was so much more intense than any fantasy he'd ever painted about them for himself.

John unfastened his slacks and George felt a flush of heat as the pants slid down John's muscular, hairy legs.

John stood in front of him wearing only a pair of deep green, silk boxers -- boxers that did nothing to hide his full erection. George's breath caught in his throat and exhaled in what was a near moan.

He nearly sprang against John -- hands grasping firm naked flesh -- as he reached down to touch the sensuous silk of John's shorts.

George's hand felt the steel beneath the silk. He firmly clutched John's penis through the thin material and was rewarded with a deep groan which faded to a low growl.

John's hands were in his hair, tugging and grasping. George was suddenly struck by the tremendous heat that emanated from John's body. A clean, musky scent was mingling with John's expensive cologne.

Then John was pressing and pushing George backwards -- back toward the bed. Their legs met the edge and they toppled together down on the soft comforter and large mattress.

George allowed John to push him flat and cover him with his heated form. John's mouth was once again devouring his -- lips sucking lips and John's tongue invading him. Teeth clicked against teeth as their bodies continued to grind together insistently.

George's hands continued to reach out and explore John. As he touched the elastic waistband of John's boxers, George found himself suddenly anxious to remove the silk barrier. He began to tug down -- John gasped out as the elastic caught his erection.

"God! Let me," he ordered, his voice thick.

George relaxed and felt John pull back. He watched John balance himself on his haunches while he slipped out of the last piece of clothing that separated them from one another. It was an interesting sight seeing John's abdominal muscles, pectorals and biceps rippling with the effort of balance and movement in the awkward position...

John glanced at George and their eyes locked. John's lips were parted and looked wet. George wanted badly to be kissing him once more.

As if John had read his thoughts he pressed his mouth to George -- sucking, licking and pressing into him.

They grappled and tumbled and broke the kiss, hands finding new avenues of exploration. John's leg slipped between George's and George found himself blatantly humping it. John's hand cupped the cheek of George's ass and squeezed lightly, pressing him closer still.

John's lips were against George's ear. Soon John's tongue was delicately licking the opening of the canal, darting in and out. George shuddered when John removed his tongue and blew a warm stream of air as a replacement. It was an amazing feeling! (George couldn't think of a single person who had ever done it even half as well.)

George reached down and struggled to slip a hand between the tightness of their locked bodies. He could feel the muscles of John's stomach working, feel his sweaty flesh.

John pulled back, giving George passage to caress him.

George could see by the expression on John's face that this was a pivotal moment. His friend was giving his body over to George. It was a gesture of both submission and trust.

George took John's penis in his hand. Then glancing into John's face -- and down at the prize he held -- he looked back into John's face to see if the man's eyes had followed his own.

They had. John was staring down at his own penis, watching George's hand manipulate him.

George was awash with a variety of sensations. He felt tears of joy spring his eyes just at the sight of the look of pleasure on John's face.

John had such a lovely, enticing boyishness about him. It was irresistible. George could feel passion engulfing him as John's penis grew ever hotter and swollen under his insistent touch.

John was moaning. Moaning and moaning more. George felt John spurting, the semen flowing between his fingers and against his body.

John's voice was huskier than usual -- his moan throaty and delicious. George realized suddenly that he, too, was climaxing -- caught up completely in this moment of pure pleasure.

John pushed close to him, nuzzling against George's neck. George gave one long sigh of contentment as he placed his free hand in John's damp hair, cradling his head against him.

His free hand lightly cupped John's now flaccid penis, unwilling to relinquish his treasure...

John was mumbling something unintelligible, his mouth pressed against George.

George forced himself back from fuzziness. He was anxious to know what John was saying!

The words continued -- and though he couldn't make them out George could literally feel them being mouthed against his skin.

"John?" he questioned softly. His fingers gently brushed wet tendrils of hair back from John's forehead. "John?" He spoke slightly louder, wanting to capture John's attention.

"I do, I do, George. I really mean it." The words were flowing out, full of emotion as John pulled back and gazed into George's eyes.

"Hush. I know. I know you do," George answered, reaching both hands around John's muscled back, and grasping the strong shoulders tightly. It didn't matter that he hadn't heard the declaration. It was easy enough to reason out.

"Rest a minute, sweetheart," George said, enjoying using the endearment. John sighed, and his body seemed to relax even more. His breathing slowed, and George looked into his face, wondering if John were falling asleep.

Beautiful blue eyes stared back at him and white teeth flashed a quick smile.

"I... you..." John whispered, reaching a hand down between George's legs.

"John, I came like gangbusters. Really. I was so excited I can't even find words to tell you how much."

John nodded. "I can't believe I could be so... so damned excited from being jerked off, George. It's crazy."

George laughed, and John joined him. It was a warm, happy moment. "I know, John. But we were pretty crazy to touch. I think we could've come without even touching one another's genitals."

"Yeah," John agreed. "I thought I was going to come when you and I were kissing. Wow. I was so heated up!"

"Mmm. Me, too. I guess I could have gotten off just looking at your naked body. That's really something to see, John."

John yawned, stretching his limps like a sleepy cat. George reached out a hand and rubbed his fingers over John's lips before moving to stroke one cheek.

"My sleepy darling," he said, his eyes welling tears. "I love you, too, John." He could manage to say the words.

John yawned again, more hugely, before answering. "This is great, George."

"Merry Christmas, baby," George said, "Go to sleep now."

"Ho, ho, ho," John answered, his voice tiny. "Merry Christmas, George."

-the end-