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The only sound in the loft was the occasional rustle as Methos turned a page in the book he was supposedly reading.
Duncan sat opposite, glaring impotently at his lover. * Damn * the old man anyway, he hated it when the contrary old bastard refused to talk to him when they had things to sort out, and what made it worse was that Methos was playing dirty.
* Again *!
Duncan was trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore the blatant invitation, as the ancient immortal openly displayed what was on offer. He sat on the couch in his usual boneless sprawl, long legs splayed invitingly. He held a moisture rimmed beer bottle in his long delicate fingers, but it was what those same fingers were doing to that bottle, it was almost indecent, and when he brought the bottle to his lips to drink, Duncan felt a jolt of desire in his groin. Meanwhile, the other hand almost seemed to caress the old leather bound pages, and Duncan had a devils own time trying not to think of those self same hands caressing his skin.
Methos grinned wickedly to himself as he noticed his lover shifting restlessly in his chair, everything was going according to plan, after all he wasn’t a master strategist for nothing. The Boy Scout was becoming increasingly frustrated, he could see that plainly enough, despite the dim lighting of the standard lamp at his back, as he slid his gaze fleetingly across the bulge in the Scot’s jeans.
“It’s not going to work you know” Mac said through clenched teeth.
“Hmmmm ....... What?” Methos answered, raising his eyes, a look of blinding innocence on his face.
Mac’s thunderous expression was almost enough to undo him, but he’d put too much work in to ruin it now, besides, beneath the thunder appeared to be some lightening, as he saw the faint fire of desire in those chocolate brown eyes. * Yes ........ Oh Yes * this was going to be fun.
As Mac watched, Methos drained the last of the beer, running his tongue slowly around his mouth, moistening his lips, he then closed the book and placed both it and the bottle on the floor. With a quick, sly, glance in Mac’s direction, he raised his arms above his head and arched his back, looking for all the world like a large cat stretching out the kinks, of course, this had the desired effect of thrusting the evidence of his own arousal into plain view.
Then with one large, over-exaggerated, yawn he slumped back into the couch. “I’m going to bed” he announced to the room in general, before hauling himself to his feet and turning his back on the stunned Scot. He really wanted to see the look on Duncan’s face, but looking back would spoil the effect, Ah well, small sacrifices yielded great rewards, he consoled himself. To add insult to injury he flipped the standard lamp off as he went past, plunging the loft into twilight.
Mac scowled at the retreating immortal, lit only by the full moon and what little illumination made it in from the streetlights. He knew exactly what the irritating man was doing, it was an old Amanda trick, to divert his attention from an argument with sex. He really must stop those two from comparing notes, it was hardly fair.
Well two could play at that game, if Methos thought that he was going to come running after that little performance, he had another thing coming.
Realising that he was facing the bed and that Methos was making a big production of undressing, he could hear the faint humming of that old striptease tune, Mac rose from the chair and threw himself down on the couch, spreading himself out and getting as comfortable as he could, only in his present state, there was * no * such thing as comfortable.
After about the fourth time he had shifted position and beaten his pillow into submission, a stifled snicker from the direction of the bed caused him to loose the little control he had left.
“Oh that does it” he growled, lunging from the couch and stalking towards the bed. “Methos, you are a two faced, manipulating, cocksucking, son-of-a-bitch” he cursed
“Well, three out of four isn’t bad, I never knew my Mother” came the smartass reply, “And when did you take to useing profanity, it doesn’t suite you?”
Mac paused mid stalk and placed his hand on his chin, “Well, let me see. Hmmm Yes,... that’s it. It was just about the time I met you” he replied.
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you either”
“Tough. It’s all your fault anyway, I guess it’s catching” Mac retorted, stopping at the foot of the bed and starting to strip.
Methos snorted, “Well at least it got me what I wanted”
“Oh really, and what would that be?” Mac retuned with feined innocence
“Why, you of course” Methos replied innocently, whilst squirming invitingly under the covers.
“Is that a fact. Well I have just one thing to say”, Duncan answered as he crossed to his side of the bed, and got under the covers. Putting all the steel into his voice that he could muster, “Touch anything and I’ll have your head”. and so saying he turned his back on his lover and thumping his pillow twice, he settled down to sleep, Methos was * not * going to win this one.
Methos was miffed, to say the least, Damned Boy Scout wasn’t playing fair, “Fine, have it your way” he retorted. The fact that * he * wasn’t playing fair was entirely beside the point
Duncan allowed his smirk to grow as he heard the old man muttering to himself in some ancient language, he decided to have the last word by saying nothing..
The silence stretched out interminably, until finally Duncan sensed that the man beside him had given up and gone to sleep, he grinned to himself, Methos had always said ‘never try to out stubborn a Scot’, well he should practice what he preached, occasionally. Now he would get his revenge.
Moving slowly so as not to disturb his slumbering lover, Duncan slid across the distance separating them.
Methos lay in his usual sprawl, head turned towards him and lips parted in open invitation, an invitation that Duncan was unable to resist. He lent over and placed the bearest feather of a kiss on those entirely kissable lips, Methos mumbled and drew closer to his warmth. Duncan paused, looking into his lovers face, it never ceased to amaze him how young and vulnerable the ancient immortal looked when he was asleep, the cares of his long life banished in the peace of blissful oblivion.
Reaching over, he traced a path, with his fingertips, from behind his lover’s ear down the long elegant neck to the collar bone, pausing to explore the hollows there before continuing on down the smooth planes of his chest. When he reached the pale nipples he stopped. Leaning forward he circled the nipple with his tongue, barely touching the skin before engulfing it in his hot moist mouth and sucking gently. He grinned when he heard his lovers breath catch and then with an effort settle once more into the rhythm of sleep. ‘So the old man was going to play possum was he. Well let him, it’d make it more fun.’
Leaving the now erect nipple to suffer, Duncan made his way slowly down the pale torso, savouring the unique taste that was Methos, leaving hot wet trails with his tongue as he lick-kissed his way down, pausing occasionally to nip gently with his teeth, noting each catch in the older immortals breath, further proof that the other was not really asleep.
Duncan continued his southward journey, ignoring his lovers rampant erection. He was going to make Methos suffer for his troubles, not too much of course, but enough. Instead he gently parted the slender legs and slipped between them. Starting at the older mans feet he proceeded to lick and suck every inch of flesh, taking each toe into his mouth, allowing his teeth to graze the sensitive pads before nipping at the tips. He could feel the tremors of pleasure running through the body before him, but still Methos refused to give up his charade. Taking up the other foot, he gently ran his fingertips along the instep knowing how ticklish the other was, he was rewarded by a barely stifled groan. Duncan’s grin got wider as he slid up the now sweat slicked body until he reached the parted lips and took them in a savage kiss forcing his tongue into the hot moist depths, not caring to keep up the farce himself any longer. Slender arms with the strength of corded steel enfolded him, pulling him down firmly, the once passive mouth beneath his returned his passion, supple fingers became entangled in his hair.
When he was allowed up for air, he looked into the hazel eyes, now darkened with desire “Have we learnt our lesson yet?’ he asked in his best lecture voice.
“I thought you said you were going to take my head if I touched anything” Methos stated, ignoring Duncan’s question, “Cause if you’re not, how about giving me some instead” he finished huskily, thrusting his hips upwards and grinding their heated shafts together.
Duncan laughed, “I’m not really sure you deserve it” he mused.
Methos’ eyes widened, “Insolent child, I’ll show you des.... umph..” the rest of his sentence was cut off as Duncan captured his mouth again with his own, almost crushing the smaller man with his weight. Leaving the other breathless he slithered back down the glorious body, until he reached his prize.
Circling the base of his lovers cock, he ran his tongue up the sensitive underside before taking only the purple head into his mouth, while with his other hand he firmly pressed the other mans hips back down onto the bed, * he * was going to have complete control.
Methos groaned in frustration at not being able to thrust into the warm inviting cavern of the Highlander’s mouth, the bastard was going to pay for this, enjoyable or not. Then he was caught by suprise as he was engulfed to the hilt in wet heat, only to have that delicious fire replaced by ice as the twice dammed brat took in a massive breath. “Ohhhh Gods Mac. Please” Methos begged, for what he wasn’t sure.
Pleased with the reaction Duncan repeated it twice more, the shudders that racked his lovers form becoming more pronounced. He knew that Methos was close, hell he wasn’t that far away himself, the sight of Methos’ beautiful body sprawled and writhing in abandoned ecstasy beneath him was always a massive turn on for him.
Methos was not sure how long he could last, as Duncan’s talented mouth once more took him into its heated depths, then without warning a vibrating sensation washed over him that almost took his scalp off, and he was tossed over the edge of the abyss as waves of pleasure washed over him like wild fire, he vaguely heard voices crying out to the Gods, before recognising one as his own. * What the fuck had that Highland brat done to him! * was the last coherent thought that drifted through his mind, before he blacked out.
Methos slowly became aware of a tickling sensation on his neck, and the weight of a warm body pressing him into the mattress, as his senses returned he realised that Mac was nuzzling his neck, he sighed, * damn but that felt good *, “What did you do to me, you damned Highland Barbarian, I think I died”.
“Like that did you”. Mac chuckled, ignoring the barbarian remark.
“Answer my question, damn you” Methos repeated, trying to sound annoyed.
“Trade secret, a little something I picked up from Amanda, you’re not the only one who can learn from her you know”. he finished pointedly.
Methos groaned as if in pain, * damn * he’d been sprung, “Does this mean that you are still going to want to talk?”
“Afraid so” Duncan replied with heavy mock regret, trying without much success to hide his smile at the look of resigned defeat on the others face.
“When did you become such a pain in the arse Macleod?”
Duncan shrugged “I’ve had a very accommodating teacher”.
“Oh, so I’m a pain in the arse am I?” Methos growled.
“Always”
Methos scowled, Goddamned boy scout was learning, all his own fault he supposed,, “Do you have to be such a quick study” he snapped, turning his face away from the suddenly too knowing gaze.
Duncan sighed in exasperation, why did the old man always turn away and refuse to trust him. “Methos. Methos look at me” Duncan reached over and cupping the other mans chin, gently but with irresistible force, turned his face back. “When are you going to trust me?”
“I do trust you damnit, with my life” Methos gritted
“Not your life Love, with your soul. You already have mine” Duncan replied.
Methos was stunned, * your soul * .......... * you already have mine * . Such a simple request, such a devastating statement. The absolute trust implicit in that statement was almost incomprehensible to one such as he, one whose very being was ‘trust no one, ever’. And here was this man, this magnificent Highland Barbarian, his Highland child, asking only for what he had already freely given. * Oh Duncan, Beloved, you cannot know what you ask *
Duncan could see all of this running through his lovers eyes, the face was impassive, but the eyes spoke of the fear, and also, perhaps of longing, and he knew that Methos wanted to trust him, but too many years and too many abuses of that trust could not be overcome without pain. He had pushed too hard * damn * “Methos, I’m sor ......”
Gentle fingers stopped his words, brushing his lips, “Don’t” the soft mouth met his in a wordless apology, “It’s not your fault. You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks Macleod” Methos joked, gallows humour.
Mac was shocked to see unshed tears glistening in the expressive green eyes. Using his thumbs he gently brushed away the drops of diamond like moisture, treasureing them for the presious gifts that they were “I do understand love, As much as you can give and in your own time” he stated, “But Methos, when are you going to learn that I don’t have to be manipulated”.
“What and take away all my fun” Methos quipped, barely keeping the tremour of his roiling emotions from his voice. He had to break the serious tension that was becoming too thick and cloying for him, the emotions too strong, all his instincts were screaming at him to cut and run.
“Methos, I’m serious”
“Aren’t you always”
“Methos!”
“All right, all right, you’ve made your point.”, no use in trying to win this one * bloody damned stubborn Scot *.
“Have I?”
“Yes”
Duncan leaned in close, capturing the pouting lips with his, kissing away any bad feelings, “Good” he finished. Drawing away to look into the hazel eyes, he cupped the face of the man he loved in gentle hands, and kissed him again, deepening the kiss, trying to convey the fact that Methos had all the time he needed and that he was satisfied with what ever Methos chose to give him.
Methos broke the embrace, capturing his lovers face in his hands he kissed his forehead, each eye and lastly his mouth. It was a blessing, an acknowledgment and wordless thanks all in one, and the smile on Mac’s face was payment enough.
Mac settled back down, head resting in the hollow of Methos’ shoulder, a contented sigh escaped him as his eyes closed.
Methos shivered slightly as his lovers warm breath caressed his cooling skin, he stroked Duncan’s hand where it lay on his chest, twining fingers, contemplating the contrast between light and dark, and the irony of who was what. He thought back to Duncan’s encounter with O’Rourke and shuddered inwardly at how close he had come to losing his precious Highlander for ever, had lost him for six months, until he had managed to badger Joe into revealing where the irritating Scot had hidden himself. He had tried all of his lovers usual retreats, even to checking on the Monastery that Duncan had gone to after the Arhiman incident, but all to no avail. He remembered the conversation at Joe’s bar vividly.
The bar was closed, and Methos was sitting in his usual place at the bar, ubiquitous bottle of beer in hand, looking with anxious exasperation at the Watcher behind the bar. “Joe, please, you have to tell me” Methos pleaded.
Joe was somewhat taken aback by the despeate tone in the ancient imortals voice, but if this was another one of Methos’ manipulations he was not going to fall for it.“Give me one good reason why I should old man” the grey haired Watcher asked wearily, passing a tired hand over his face, before fixing the apparently younger man with a knowing gaze. Methos had been badgering him all night for Mac’s whereabouts, and he was almost sure that the old man was truly sincere about his friendship with the Highlander.
Methos winced at the knowledge in those clear blue eyes and he kicked himself mentally for forgetting how perceptive the other man really was, he kept forgetting that it was Joe’s job to watch, to assess and draw conclusions. * You’re getting senile old man * he scolded himself. Oh hell, he may as well come clean, Joe guessed anyway, he sighed and taking a swig from his ever present beer he answered, “Because I love him Joe, and I need to know where he is”
The statement shocked Joe, not because of it’s content, he’d long suspected that the regard that the two men held for each other extended way past simple friendship, but the simple honesty of it was not something he had come to expect from the complicated Immortal. Evasion and riddles where more his usual style. Joe gave Methos a long appraising look, trying to determine if the old man was putting one over on him, but try as he might he could find no deception in the other man.
Methos watched the play of emotions in the other mans clear green eyes, as Joe came to his decision and limped to the cash register. He removed a small envelope from beneath the cash tray, closing the register draw, he made his way back to the waiting immortal, he paused, steady blue eyes meeting hazel green. Placing the small white envelope on the bar top, he pushed it over to the other mans hand, “I hope it works out, but if you run out on him again afterwards, like you’ve done before, you and I are through” It was not a threat, just a simple statement of fact.
Methos marvelled again at the loyalty that his lover could inspire in others, had to a certain extent inspired in him. He snorted, * face it old man, he’s got you by the balls, when you thought you had lost him to O’Rourke, you wanted to die too Now * that * was something he would not admit to any but himself, and then only in the deepest darkest recesses of his mind in the barest whisper. He had had a taste of what Mac must have felt when he had left without word as to where he was going, and he hadn’t liked it one little bit. Methos shook himself mentally out of his morbid revere, like he’d told the Highland brat more times than he cared to remember, ‘dwelling on the past was a waste of time and energy’ so he ought to practice what he preached occasionally, especially when the future he should be contemplating included the magnificent man currently lying in his arms. Methos grinned wickedly, now was the time to cement that future, and he was definitely recovered enough from Mac’s excellent effort to do some active cementing himself.
It seemed, that during his own morbid musings, that the big Scot had succumbed to Morpheus’ tender mercies. Methos sighed, * oh great, * now that he was in the mood, the dammed brat wanted to sleep, well not for long. Methos tried to wriggle to the side of the bed, but with his lovers substantial weight pinning him to the mattress, that proved to be difficult.
Duncan grumbled sleepily and rolled over onto his back, taking most of the covers with him, before settling back down to sleep.
Good, he’d found that Duncan, although not a heavy sleeper by any means, seemed to sleep more soundly when he had company. Methos grinned evilly to himself as he shifted to the end of the bed, and began to slowly peel the covers off his lover, revealing the magnificent body beneath. He loved to look at the Highlanders body, still, or in motion. It reminded him of the gladiators in Rome, muscled yet not overly so, sleek, in many ways Duncan was the Bear to his Panther, he smiled at Mac’s description of himself.
Mac made a grab in his sleep for the slowly receding covers and Methos froze, hoping he had not woken the younger immortal, he continued when the other man missed and seemed to settle back into restful slumber. He snorted softly to himself, it seemed to be a subtle analogy to his relationship with Duncan, the younger man was not always as predictable as he seemed. Once every second or third blue moon, the dammed brat seemed to throw him a curve ball, their whole relationship as lovers being the first such suprise. Dismissing such thoughts from his mind, he went back to planning his revenge for the Highland brats turning the tables on his nicely planned seduction.
Slipping off the bed, he padded quietly back to his side and knelt, reaching under the bed he removed a box and extracted an old glass stoppered bottle, sealed with wax. Climbing carefully back onto the bed, he straddled the prone Scot, settling himself comfortably on his lovers hips. Breaking the wax seal with his thumbnail, he carefully poured a measure of the clear liquid into his hand, before replacing the stopper and placing the bottle at his side. He then proceeded to rub the oily substance in his hands, warming it to body temperature, inhaling the spicy sent, with just a hint of pepper, he shivered as the skin on his hands began to tingle pleasantly. Leaning forward slightly he placed his hands on the Scot’s broad shoulders and glided them slowly down until he reached the sensitive nipples, where he slowly circled them using his fingertips, making sure they were coated with the burning oil. He then sat back to watch the much anticipated reaction.
Mac woke with a start, an incredible tingling, burning sensation crawling over his chest. he opened his eyes to find himself gazing at a pair of laughing hazel eyes, atop an evilly grinning mouth, “What the ........”
“It’s payback time Macleod” Methos stated, squeezing his lover with his knees before leaning forward to capture the startled mouth in a savage kiss. Two strong arms came up to embrace him, but Methos was having none of it, “Uh uh uh ..., It’s my turn, and I’m going to give you what you deserve” he threatened, capturing his lovers arms and pinning them next to his head.
“Oh, and just exactly what do I deserve ?” Duncan queried mildly, noting that Methos’ hands were covered in oil. So that must be what was causing the sensations that were currently tingling pleasantly through his nerves.
“If you’re a good Boy Scout, you might just find out” Methos growled, nuzzling the strong column of Duncan’s neck, eliciting a gasp, turning into a low moan when he moved down and bit at the sensitive join between neck and shoulder. he sat back up grinning at the Highlanders expression of suppressed desire.
Duncan smiled back up at his ancient lover, “But I’m always a good boy” he growled huskily, disengaging one of his hands from Methos’ oily grip he reached up and ran feathered fingertips across the hard planes of the pale chest, feeling the muscles tense as his lover drew in a hissed breath between clenched teeth.
Methos snorted “Uh huh, about as innocent as a Vestal Virgin” he mocked, reaching for the bottle again, only to have his wrist caught in an iron grip.
“What’s in that” Mac asked with deceptive casualness
“That’s for me to know, you’re not the only one with trade secrets you know. If you don’t behave I’ll have to tie you up” Methos finished with a leer.
“Promises, Promises” Mac chuckled releasing his lovers hand and allowing Methos to reach for the bottle.
Methos snorted “Enough talk, it’s time for the fun stuff” he leered pouring a liberal amount of the oil into his hand and rubbing his hands together. Shuffling down the prone body, he stopped when he was over his lovers legs which he then manuvered apart with his knees, until he was kneeling between them. Reaching back up Mac’s chest he gently circled the browny pink nipples, making sure that the oil had begun to have it’s desired effect before sliding his oil slick hands down the hard planes of his lovers sides until he reached the narrow hips, where he avoided the hardening member, continuing on to Mac’s inner thighs where he caressed the bronzed skin feeling the tremors in the powerful muscles as Mac struggled to maintain control. Methos grinned at his lover, the laboured breathing and trembling body beneath him working on him to bring about his own arousal, slowly with feather light caresses, he worked his hands down to the Highlanders firm buttocks slipping a finger between his cheeks until it reached the small tight opening, causing his lover to gasp and buck as the oil did it’s maddening job.
“Ohhhhh Gods Methos” Mac panted as the tingling burning darts of pleasure radiated from this most intimate place out along his trembling body. He jumped again as a warm slippery hand enclosed his aching cock and it to was engulfed in the hot burning sensations.
Methos gazed at his lovers face, contorted with the intense pleasure that was coursing through his body and judging the other ready he slipped a finger into the tight hot body, eliciting a deep groan.
Duncan gasped as his whole body seemed to become a mass of tingling burning pleasure. “ Ahhhh Methos, ....... please, .... I need you know” he gasped as coherent thought seemed to rapidly desert him.
Methos grinned as the younger immortal was reduced to inarticulate noises, “Soon love, soon” he crooned, removing his fingers he used the last of the oil on his hands to lubricate his own straining erection, drawing a savage breath as the oil commenced to burn his own hyper-sensitive skin. Then positioning himself he guided his cock into his lovers body, groaning at the burning heat that greeted him. Stilling momentarily to allow them both to savour the feelings, he placed his hands on his lovers hips and began the long slow rhythm that he knew would drive the Highlander wild. Duncan was moaning almost continuously now, only the volume increasing as Methos grasped his lovers now rigid member and stroked it in time with his thrusts, determined to push them both over the edge together.
Duncan writhed in pleasurable torment, his whole world reduced to the feel of his lover inside him, “Gods, Methos..... I’m sooo close”, he gasped, urging his lover on.
The demanding need in Duncan’s voice made Methos shiver, and as his lover climaxed the powerful contractions hurled him over the edge, and they both shattered together on the hard ground of ecstasy. A loud groan escaped him as his arms lost strength and he collapsed atop the shuddering Scot, the only sounds in the darkened loft their laboured breathing.
When coherent thought returned, albeit somewhat slowly, Duncan reached down to his lovers head resting on his stomach and ran his hand caressingly through the silken hair, Methos stirred and raised sleepy hazel eyes to meet his, a somewhat sloppy but triumphant smile on his face.
“Paybacks a Bitch” he quipped in a tired voice, “I’m whacked”
“I think I was the one who died this time”, Duncan replied with a chuckle. “Come here” he said, pulling the limp body up so he could place a gentle kiss on the succulent mouth, before pulling the covers over them both and settling his lover at his side, surrounding him with his strong arms.
Methos sighed in contentment, burrowing into the heat that was still radiating from Duncan’s body, the caress of the others hand on his arm and shoulder and the strong hearbeat lulling him quickly to sleep.
Duncan’s last thought before Morpheus claimed him too, was how damned lucky he was to have this wonderful man in his life, and he would do everything in his power to keep him there.
Fini.