Granz was tired.

He'd been putting so much effort into making certain that everyone else who had expressed interest was being shipped that his monitor was bleached with the glare of a thousand lovers. All of them had come away satisfied, which may or may not have been a euphemism depending upon the preferences of the reader.

He leaned away from his keyboard and sighed, stretching his fingers, grown toned and defined from the speed and ferocity with which he'd shipped.

"Oh, my," said a voice from behind him. He turned, and the Shipfest itself stood before him, leaning casually against the wall and grinning easily as its gaze slid along the exaggerated lines running along his overworked digits. "You have been a busy boy, haven't you?"

Granz's eyes went wide with astonishment as he beheld the Shipfest's lithe, firm form. He knew his lover when he saw it. "I. . . Suppose. . " he said nervously.

The Shipfest laughed, wrapping its firm arms over his shoulders and raising an eyebrow at him. "No need to be coy, lover," it said. "You've put so much more work into me than any of the others. I can feel your. . . passion. . ." Its hands were sliding over his chest now, and Granz's breathing was coming fast and heavy, like a lot of things were shaping up to be.

"Passion, huh?" he asked, lips trembling with excitement.

"Oh, yes," assured the Shipfest, nodding. "The passion of revenge. Did you think Aegis had forgotten the corsets? Now shut up," it said, its gaze intense, "and take your fic." Its tone made it apparent that it was to be taken in every sense of the word.

And suddenly, something stopped Granz's lips from trembling. Things often grew sturdier when they were firmly pressed against something, and the Shipfest's own lips were no exception. Neither was anything else that wouldn't really be very appropriate to discuss on the Board, and the two true lovers sank down to enjoy the fruits of their labors. Intensely and repeatedly.