Methos looked back over his shoulder at the abruptly retreating form of Duncan MacLeod. His expression as the Highlander disappeared out of sight was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. As soon as he'd turned his back Mac had downed tools and made a run for it. Methos shook his head, then searched around for a scrap of rag. He found one and used it to scrub at his abused nose - why did it always have to be about his nose? If there was one thing Methos knew it was that you didn't go around swiping a person's nose with paint for no good reason and then walk away without explaining yourself - especially given the half-fond, half-embarrassed look that had accompanied the gesture.
Look at me, MacLeod, I didn't last for 5,000 years by worrying about anyone but myself.
You could have fooled me...
Bloody typical of the boy scout, though, Methos thought with a slight smile. He was evasive as all hell when it came to dealing with things that he was uncomfortable with - like the growing tension between the two of them. And there was no doubt in Methos' mind that he wasn't imagining it, nor was he mistaking the nature of it. It had been there in the dojo when they sparred - who knew what might have happened but for the inopportune arrival of Richie Ryan - and it had been there again just now.
Oh, but in the world according to Duncan MacLeod God forbid that they should acknowledge it - or maybe even act on it. And Methos wanted to act on it. The sudden tightness of his jeans made that uncomfortably clear. Methos liked the thrill of the chase as well as the next man, but there came a time when he wanted the pay off more - and frankly he had reached that point. A predatory light glittered in Methos' hazel eyes as he dropped the rag he had used to wipe the paint off his nose back onto the deck and strode off in search of Mac.
The Highlander's Buzz was still loud in his senses so Methos knew he couldn't have gone far, finding him should not be a problem so long as he stayed within range. However, finding and keeping were two separate things. Methos paused in the doorway, delaying his hunt while he thought a little further ahead.
He'd find Mac, no question there - but how to make sure he didn't just run again... A small, wicked smile lit his face for a moment and then faded as he ruled out the idea of just tackling the Highlander. Their spar earlier had confirmed Methos' suspicions that he probably wouldn't stand much chance against Mac if they wrestled, at least not without taking it to far more serious levels than he was prepared to. And besides Methos just wanted to pin him down, not scare him away entirely. Still, there was definitely something appealing about the thought of getting right up close and personal with the Highlander again. Then again, if Mac were really nervous about this, that might just ruin the whole plan. But that didn't rule out tackling him completely - he just had to be a bit more careful and devious about it... and after 5,000 years if there was one thing he knew, it was how to be devious.
So. Find the Highlander - easy. Tackle the Highlander - should be fun. Now how to stop him running away... Methos' eyes roved the area looking for inspiration, settling eventually on Mac's toolbox. Now there was an idea. Methos quickly crossed the deck and began rummaging through the box, eventually coming up with a reel of duct tape. If Mac had seen the speculative gleam in Methos' eyes at that point he'd either have pounced the Ancient Immortal or headed for the hills. But Mac was nowhere in sight, though his Buzz was loud and clear. Time to remedy that.
Methos stood and tossed the silvery reel into the air catching it easily as he headed back towards the house.
"Oh Highlander," he sing-songed under his breath. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."
Methos stepped inside the cool interior of the house and paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. There was no need to give the Highlander any unnecessary tactical advantage. Still planning ahead, Methos slipped the reel of tape over his wrist. That left both hands free - all the better for tackling Mac, once he found him. As he looked around Methos noted that the vague shapes in the room had resolved themselves into pieces of furniture shrouded in dust sheets. Good, his eyes were accustomed to the light. Satisfied, Methos began his hunt in earnest.
Floorboards creaked as Methos advanced and he cursed under his breath. So much for the stealth approach! Following the rich song of the Highlander's presence Methos moved out into the hallway. As he glanced down the old Immortal noticed a trail of footprints on the dusty floor.
Oh, Mac, you're making this too easy for me, Methos thought, his lips quirking in a wolfish smile. Do you want to be caught? That possibility gave Methos pause. Maybe Mac really didn't know what he wanted. In which case it was up to Methos to show him just what he'd been missing out on.
The footprints led Methos to the foot of the stairs. He stopped for a moment, listening. From up above he heard the faint squeak of a shoe on the bare floor. Yes, his quarry was definitely up there. Cautiously Methos began to climb.
Find the Highlander...
Tackle the Highlander...
Methos felt the weight of his secret weapon bumping at his wrist with each step. Oh yes, this promised to be an interesting... conversation.
Duncan roamed the upstairs, eventually coming to a halt in the main bedroom before the large, covered bed. Even beneath the dust-covers it was an imposing piece of furniture, wrought iron framework that to Duncan's mind didn't really match the rest of the furnishings in the house.
What had he been thinking? It had just been a spur of the moment thing, an innocent impulse that he'd given no thought to acting upon, and now absently studying that monstrous piece of furniture, his motivations were becoming all too clear.
Duncan shrugged a touch uncomfortably inside his clothing. Methos was such an enigma, but Duncan was pretty sure he hadn't misread the looks that had passed between them the last few days. The problem was... the problem was he hadn't got a clue what he was doing. It wasn't that he didn't trust the man, absurd as it was given how little he knew of him, he had trusted him from the start - he even liked him almost despite himself. He could deal with that - he had. This attraction though, this was something else - unexpected, but undeniably strong.
Duncan heard the creak of the stairs and stopped himself from turning towards the sound. A full-blown mental image suddenly popped into his head of the Eldest Immortal stalking his prey, green eyes glittering gold as the light caught them. Duncan's breath caught and he was abruptly aware of just how tight his jeans had become. Imagination, fuelled by memories of their spar, was running away with him. The feel of that lithe body pressed close against him, this time without the jeans and baggy sweater. Methos kneeling before him, flushed face and sweat-damp skin...
The creaking of another step jerked him back to reality and Duncan was insanely glad that Methos wouldn't be able to see him from the landing. Duncan was certain his face was glowing hot in the dim light and if faced with the Ancient Immortal then and there... he had no idea what he'd do and it didn't help that a little voice at the back of his mind was telling him that if he was stuck for ideas Methos could probably offer a few.
This was insane. A massively unwise thing to do. Not only that but something where he had no past experience to fall back on. It was terrifying - something he should run away from as far and fast as he was able, except that right now he was so aroused he couldn't even walk and God help him, he didn't want to.
Methos followed the trail of footprints to the landing and then stopped, listening once again. There was no discernible sound - only the ever-present buzz - apparently Mac had now given up any notion of eluding Methos and was merely waiting to be found. The old Immortal wondered where he'd gone to ground.
The tell-tale footprints headed towards the front of the house. Mac had given him the grand tour of the place earlier and Methos quickly reviewed the layout in his head. He smiled to himself as he recalled that the master bedroom occupied that area. What an interesting choice of refuge on Mac's part... And better still, Methos remembered, the room was furnished with a large, ornate bed. The wrought iron confection would offer a whole host of possibilities to a resourceful Immortal with 5,000 years of experience and a large roll of duct tape!
With long strides Methos stalked along the landing towards his quarry. He no longer made any attempt to hide his approach. There was no point - doubtless his buzz felt as strong to Mac as Mac's did to him. The only question now was whether the Highlander would stop to listen to him or try to avoid the issue yet again. Well, Methos was prepared for any eventuality - he spun the reel of tape on his wrist, grinning ferally. The old Immortal reached the bedroom door and paused, leaning against the frame.
Mac was standing at the foot of the bed, his back to the door. There was a tense set to his shoulders; he looked to be poised to run or to fight. He was staring down at the dust sheet covered mattress as if the smooth white surface showed something only he could see. Methos noticed that Mac's hands gripped the metal footboard of the bed as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
Suddenly aware of being watched, Duncan turned to see Methos lounging casually in the doorway behind him. The oldest Immortal's expression was anything but casual, though. His gaze pinned Duncan, holding him in place as surely as Methos' hands could have done. But those elegant hands were currently otherwise occupied. Duncan saw the silvery flash as Methos toyed with something that encircled one wrist. The Highlander looked a little harder and his eyes widened in shock as he recognised the reel of duct tape from his tool box. Duncan's arousal flared anew as his thoughts flashed on a number of uses Methos might have in mind for the tape. Dear God...
All the possibilities Duncan had been entertaining since he had impulsively swiped Methos' nose with the paintbrush suddenly had the potential to become very real. Methos was clearly set on making them so. And he was obviously expecting a certain resistance - maybe even hoping for it, judging by the gleam in his eyes.
When Methos finally spoke his tone was deceptively mild. "There you are, MacLeod. I've been looking for you. I think we need to talk, don't you?"
The intent green gaze - and how did Methos' eyes manage to change colour like that, Duncan wondered - fixed unerringly on the tightly stretched denim at his crotch. Duncan flushed at the speculative look Methos gave him. And yet it was almost a relief to see the same need he himself was feeling reflected back at him from those normally oh so enigmatic eyes.
"Talk?" Duncan croaked, dismayed and embarrassed by his voice's betrayal.
"Yes. You know, talk. Parler. Sprechen. That thing you do with your mouth," Methos leered unsettlingly. "One of the things anyway."
Duncan tried desperately to halt his imagination's foray into the possibilities that little innuendo sparked. "About what?" he asked, knowing it for a delaying tactic and not much of one at that.
Apparently Methos knew too, he glided closer until he hovered on the edge of Duncan's personal space. Waiting to be invited in? "Oh, I think you know what about," Methos' smile was amused at Duncan's obvious discomfort, but at the same time gentler than he had expected.
Methos laid a hand on the bed frame and gave it a little shake, it barely shifted, obviously well put together. Like a couple of other things that sprang to mind. Methos turned to look at Duncan, amused to find the Highlander staring fixedly at Methos' hand on the frame, his expression a mixture of horror and... interest. Very good.
Duncan could feel Methos' eyes on him, but he couldn't look away from where Methos' hand rested on the ironwork, for such an almost innocent gesture it had done something rotten to his self-control. Part of him wanted to bolt, the other increasingly insistent part of him was thinking that checking how strong the bed was had been a really good idea.
"Oh... that," Mac tried to be as casual as Methos and was painfully aware of how badly he was failing. He made himself meet Methos' eyes.
"Yes," Methos' voice dropped seductively and he took a step closer to Mac. "That."
Mac swallowed and instinctively took a step back. Dammit the man had held a sword to his neck and he hadn't been as afraid of him then as he was now. Methos was even smaller than him, though not by much, just as tall, but lacking Mac's bulky frame. How did the man manage to be so... menacing... and sexy.
Methos' smile said he found Mac's reaction highly entertaining. Mac forced himself to hold still as Methos stepped in close again.
Duncan could feel the heat leaping off the other man and in combination with the way he felt, he was surprised that the clothing in that inch or so between them didn't just spontaneously combust. Duncan turned his face away rather than find out what the acknowledgement of their proximity would do to his self-control. He found himself staring at the bed instead - it wasn't a great help.
"Tell me Highlander," Methos' voice was a soft whisper of air brushing across the heated skin of Duncan's face, as he moved in closer still. "Have you done this before?"
For a moment Duncan was tempted to lie, but he suspected Methos already knew the answer - and if he didn't he would see through the untruth soon enough. Not trusting his voice, Duncan shook his head.
"I didn't think so." Methos' voice was surprisingly matter-of-fact. Duncan had expected ridicule or, at the least, some smart-ass comment from the other Immortal, but it wasn't forthcoming.
Finally, Duncan dared to look at Methos again. There was amusement in the green-gold gaze, but it was overlaid with something else - something far more disturbing to Duncan's equanimity - lust. Duncan had been desired before, but rarely, if ever, with the kind of intent, focused hunger that glittered in Methos' eyes now. It did nothing for his composure, unsettling Duncan more than ever yet, at the same time, intensifying his own arousal. Duncan realised suddenly that he desperately wanted what Methos was so clearly offering, but he had no idea how to ask for it. How gauche and naive he must appear to the 5,000 year old Immortal!
With an effort Duncan swallowed, his mouth needing the moisture before he could hope to form words. "It's not... that I don't want to," he managed at last.
"That much is obvious, Mac." The amusement was back in Methos' tone, but it was only a gentle teasing. "So, are you ready to stop running away from me? Or do I need this?" Methos jiggled his wrist, drawing Duncan's attention back to the reel of duct tape.
"No!" said Duncan, a little too quickly.
"No?" queried Methos, stepping even closer. His voice was softly suggestive. "No, you aren't done running away, or no, I don't need to restrain you? I'm open to either option, MacLeod. They both offer their own... pleasures."
With the final word Methos advanced again. He backed Duncan against the footboard of the bed until the Highlander could feel the ornate scrollwork pushing uncomfortably into his back. However, the sensations which assailed the front of his body quickly dissolved away all thoughts of that discomfort. Indeed, they came close to robbing Duncan of all capacity for rational thought.
Methos had pressed close, his slender frame in contact with Duncan's bulkier form from chest to hip. One slim but muscular thigh insinuated itself between Duncan's legs. It rubbed gently but insistently against his trapped erection until he felt as if he would explode from that touch alone. But, as Methos moved against him, Duncan was distracted by the feeling of Methos' own denim-encased cock prodding his hip with each lazy thrust. The old Immortal was every bit as aroused as he was - he had done this to Methos.
Slowly, Duncan raised his eyes to meet the other man's. They were all wide, black pupil. "Methos..." he choked out, not entirely certain what he was trying to say. All he knew was that he was completely out of his depth.
Methos' lips curved in a slow smile. If it were possible, his voice seemed to have dropped lower still, smoky and seductive. "Your choice, Highlander, what's it to be?"
How could Methos possibly be expecting him to make rational decisions when he felt like this?
Methos' smile broadened as he appeared to identify the cause of Duncan's continued silence. "Simple question, Mac," he said softly. "Do you want me?"
"Yes," Duncan breathed. Under the confusing morass of emotion and sensation he wasn't even aware he had spoken, nevermind truthfully, until he heard the sound of his own voice.
Methos' smile softened at the young Immortal's admission, conscious of the internal struggle Mac was waging against his fear of the unknown. Methos had long since reached the point where the unknown had become a rarity, but he could appreciate the Highlander's concern. Especially since he had the sneaking suspicion that they both knew there was a possibility that this was about more than just sex.
He studied Duncan's face for a moment longer, knowing that his next question would settle everything between them one way or another. "Do you trust me, Highlander?"
The serious tone of Methos' voice penetrated the fog clouding Duncan's mind, and he looked into the green-gold eyes, surprised to find that while the desire still burned brightly within them, it was held in check by a weight of seriousness.
Recalling his earlier thoughts on the subject, Duncan swallowed and nodded, before realising that more was required. "Yes." He was surprised his voice sounded so clear, and so certain. Did his body know something he didn't?
Methos' smile was like the sun coming up. "Then trust me." And with that he reached up, sliding his fingers into Duncan's hair and bringing their lips together for their first kiss.
Lips brushed against lips and what started as almost chaste quickly became something more. Duncan found himself begging entrance to the old Immortal's mouth with a speed that would have been alarming had it not felt like this moment had been a long time coming. There was no hesitation in Methos' response as he opened to the questing tongue, welcoming it with his own, willing to let the younger man lead for the time being.
Oh this was good; why hadn't he thought of this before? Duncan couldn't get enough of the taste of his ancient friend, more than friend soon he hoped. Duncan gasped for a much needed breath, but the wet tangle of tongues was far too enjoyable to stop now and he dove back into the kiss with a determination that the ancient Immortal found more than a little flattering and one hell of a turn-on. Methos responded instinctively, and a little more aggressively than he'd intended, but Duncan matched him without missing a beat and Methos' momentary surprise was as fleeting as their rapidly increasing heartbeats.
When strong, warm hands slid from their cautious grip on his waist to cup his ass and crush him closer to the Highlander's body, Methos nipped hard at the Highlander's full lips. Not quite hard enough to break the skin, but almost. Duncan broke the kiss, pulling back slightly to better see the old Immortal's face, shocked by the sudden realisation of just how quickly things had escalated between them and even more shocked by the fact that he wanted more. The sudden emotional crisis was not what his aching cock was interested in right now, though.
Methos was regarding him with barely contained desire and just a hint of apprehension. Duncan absently licked his lips, considering, and the lingering taste of Methos sent a jolt of lust straight to his cock. He trusted Methos and his body certainly agreed with anything that involved getting naked any time soon. Duncan, being the fair-minded individual that he was, considered that a majority ruling and shoved his remaining, lingering fears to the back of his mind.
Keeping one hand where it was, he moved the other to capture one of Methos' long-fingered hands. He brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss on the palm, holding Methos' eyes the whole time. Still holding the hand between them he slid his fingers underneath the reel of duct tape to rub lightly across the soft skin of Methos' wrist. "So," he asked with a smile, "Do you think we still need this?"
Methos measured the Highlander's gaze for a long moment. "Perhaps not - for now," he conceded at last. "But sometime soon," he added with a sly grin.
Duncan looked startled, realising from the tone of his voice that Methos was, contrary to appearances, utterly serious. "I'm not sure that..." he began, but Methos silenced him with a quick kiss.
When he drew back again the old Immortal made Duncan a promise. "When you're ready for it, I'll show you just how pleasurable it can be to let someone else take control... completely."
"And now?" asked Duncan, his voice a little shaky. The thought of being entirely in Methos' hands had sent a flurry of shivers coursing down his spine and, with or without duct tape, the Highlander couldn't help but feel that the ball was now very much in Methos' court.
"Now?" said Methos, his eyes glittering with green fire. "Now we find something more - mutually pleasing to indulge in."
Carefully, Methos extricated his hand from Duncan's grasp and slid the reel of tape off his wrist. He held it up between them for a moment and then tossed it casually over the nearest bedpost.
Duncan found himself breathing a small sigh of relief as Methos let it go. Now his mind felt free to wonder just what 'mutually pleasing' things Methos might have in mind for them. He wasn't given long to speculate, though.
With both hands now free of any encumbrances Methos brought them to rest lightly on Duncan's shoulders. One remained there to gently knead still tense muscles, but the other slid down to Duncan's chest and the agile fingers began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt.
The Highlander made no move to either help or hinder the process. Nor did he stop Methos from then slipping the shirt off his shoulders. When Methos' next move was to tug the T-shirt Duncan also wore free of the waistband of his jeans he obediently raised his arms to let Methos pull it over his head and toss it away.
Methos regarded the bare-chested Highlander with a quizzical look. He'd expected something more in the way of a reaction as he began to remove Duncan's clothes. For all his seeming passivity, though, there was no indication that Duncan wanted him to stop. Rather, there was a dreamy expression in the Highlander's dark eyes. With a smile Methos placed his palms flat against Duncan's chest. He began to stroke gently, testing the strength of the muscles under his hands. He was rewarded with a soft sigh as his touch glided over the warm, bronzed skin with its light dusting of dark hair. Methos let his caresses become more sensual and watched the other's reaction. Duncan's breathing slowed as he relaxed into the sensations and Methos waited until his eyelids finally closed. Then the old Immortal's smile turned wicked and he leaned forward, replacing his hands with his mouth.
Duncan's eyes flew open and he gasped as a warm, wet tongue began to lap roughly at his nipples. They quickly drew up into taut peaks under Methos' insistent attentions. The old Immortal began to nip and suck at the tender flesh and Duncan reached down, curving his palm loosely around the back of Methos' head. He wasn't entirely sure if he meant to encourage Methos to continue what he was doing, or to pull him away. Either way, the surprising softness of Methos' short, silky hair against the sensitive skin of his palm distracted Duncan from his intent. And then Methos took the decision out of his hands, interpreting the touch as encouragement and suckling more firmly on the pebbled nubs.
After long, pleasurable moments spent savouring the salt-sweet taste of Duncan's skin, Methos finally pulled away and straightened up. A distinctly smug smile tugged at his lips as he took in the Highlander's flushed features.
"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice rich with promises of more pleasures to come.
"Aye, I did," agreed Duncan, as he realised it was the absolute truth. But the heavy ache at his groin was quick to remind him that it was by no means enough. Meeting Methos' green-gold eyes boldly he added, "But I'd like it even more if you weren't wearing that sweatshirt."
"That's easy enough to remedy," replied Methos. In a single fluid motion he tugged the offending garment off over his head and dropped it to the floor. "Better?" he asked silkily.
Duncan stared at the pale, finely muscled torso now revealed to him and nodded dumbly.
Methos laughed out loud as he was tackled to the bed, sending up a cloud of dust. Not exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd started his hunt, but if he'd had a last name, 'adaptable' would have been his middle name. And he didn't think he'd have too much trouble adapting to a horny Highlander.
Duncan raised his head at Methos' wicked chuckle, he hadn't quite meant to do that, but Methos didn't seem at all upset by his abrupt change of position. One of these days Duncan was going to have to work on controlling his impulses, but perhaps not just yet. Methos shifted beneath him sensuously and Duncan bent down to breathe soft, wet kisses over the older Immortal's chest.
Methos sighed, his fingers winding their way into the Highlander's long hair and freeing it from its clasp, as he relaxed into the enthusiastic and charmingly innocent attentions. Oh yes, he could become very used to this.
Duncan smiled to himself as Methos relaxed further into the deep cushioning of the bed. Maybe this wasn't as much to be feared as he had thought; after all it wasn't as though he was inexperienced with sex in general - just with men. Or more specifically with this 5,000 year old man.
As if on cue the hands in his hair tightened, tugging him upward gently. Duncan went and was rewarded with a lingering and unexpectedly tender kiss. When he met Methos' eyes again, the smile in them threatened to undo him completely and Duncan was forcibly reminded of the cheerfully smug look the elder had favoured him with when he had foolishly handed over his sword. That led naturally to the spar that had followed and inevitably to that single moment replete with possibilities as Methos had knelt before him. If he'd known then what he knew now, he would have strangled Richie then and there.
Duncan felt himself harden considerably at that one mental image and he claimed Methos' mouth in a deep kiss, wanting desperately to find out what that missed opportunity had cost him. Methos appeared not at all averse to the idea and apparently had a few curiosities of his own as he quickly took control of the kiss.
Methos drew Duncan's tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own, while his hands slid down the Highlander's broad back and slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. Warm skin and hard muscle shifted under his touch and Methos grinned into the kiss as Duncan tensed involuntarily, then forced himself to relax. Such courage needed an appropriate reward.
Carefully Methos withdrew his hands and then slid them around between their close-pressed bodies to find and undo the buttons on Duncan's jeans. As soon as he realised what Methos wanted to do the Highlander was all co-operation, lifting up enough to allow his jeans and briefs to be pushed over his hips and down his thighs. Methos didn't attempt to get them all the way off, just far enough so they didn't hamper his access to Duncan's body. Then he turned his attention to his own jeans. He unfastened them and pushed the worn denim out of his way, freeing his swollen cock. Once again he was grateful that he tended to forget modern convention dictated the wearing of underwear.
Duncan was equally pleased, albeit a little surprised, when he lowered himself back down onto Methos' body. His naked cock found itself nestled not against soft cotton, but against a matching length of hard, bare flesh. He gasped at the unexpectedness of it and then Methos' hands reacquainted themselves with the muscles of his buttocks, pulling them even closer. His cock glided against Methos' and Duncan couldn't contain his moan of pleasure. Hot and slick they moved together, the sensations exquisitely electric. Duncan really couldn't believe he was doing this - and with Methos - but it felt wonderful, and Duncan wondered why he had ever doubted that he would find this pleasurable.
His body was eager for more and Duncan tried to speed up his thrusts, but Methos' hands on his buttocks held him to the slower pace the old Immortal had set.
"There's no rush, Mac," Methos said with a smile as Duncan glared down at him impatiently. "Savour the moment, really feel it... Do you want it to be over so soon?"
"You're killing me here, Methos," Duncan groaned.
"You'll survive," Methos teased, his voice rich with amusement. "Sex won't kill you!"
"It might. I want... I want you," Duncan panted.
"And you'll have me... when you're ready," agreed Methos calmly.
He reached up and claimed Duncan's mouth again in a deep, sensual kiss. As their lips and tongues first duelled and then mated hungrily Methos slid one hand up Duncan's back in a slow, soothing caress. His fingers traced small circles over tense muscles until Duncan became pliant and relaxed, his hips thrusting against Methos' in a lazy rhythm. Satisfied with Duncan's readiness Methos let the fingers of his other hand slip from their resting place on one smooth, muscular buttock. They slid down between the Highlander's cheeks to find the tight ring of muscle.
At first Duncan didn't notice what Methos' other hand was doing. The slow caresses across his back and shoulders had him relaxing bonelessly against the old Immortal and the lazy dance of their mouths was pleasantly sensual. Then he felt a shock of sensation as one inquisitive fingertip slowly circled his opening, seeming like both a promise and a threat. Duncan gasped and tensed against the incipient intrusion instinctively.
"Methos..." he cautioned, his voice a little unsteady.
"Shhhh, I won't hurt you." Methos' voice was low and reassuring. "Let me in, it can only make you feel even better."
"I don't... I've never..." Duncan stammered.
Methos smiled gently. "It's only my finger, Duncan. Are you telling me you've never let Amanda...?"
Duncan flushed, giving Methos his answer. "It's not the same," he protested.
"It's exactly the same," said Methos patiently. "Only my finger, remember... nothing more until you're ready for it. Here, I don't want to hurt you."
Methos offered up his fingers, touching them to Duncan's lips until he sucked them inside. Methos slowly moved his hand, fucking Duncan's mouth with his fingers until the Highlander began to relax again, curling his tongue intimately around the invading digits, moistening them with his saliva. Finally Methos withdrew them and trailed his hand down Duncan's back, approaching his goal by a circuitous route. Eventually his fingers dipped into the warm, dark space again, playing with the tight opening once more.
Duncan was clearly apprehensive, but equally obviously he was trying not to tense up too much. Methos carefully coaxed him into another slow, exploratory kiss, aiming to distract Duncan from what his hands were doing elsewhere. It seemed to work. Methos felt the muscles slowly relax as his finger carefully circled Duncan's anus. With exquisite care he slid just the fingertip into the warm clasp of the Highlander's body. Duncan moaned into his mouth, but didn't pull away. Encouraged, Methos slowly slipped his finger deeper inside, stretching the tight passage as he went.
"Nothing to worry about, see," Methos murmured softly as Duncan began to rock against him slowly, pressing forward to slide their cocks together and pressing back onto the invading digit. It felt strange, for all Methos' protestations to the contrary, it wasn't the same as Amanda, it was somehow more... just more. A groan slipped past his defences as his movement sent the finger deeper to brush against his prostate and electric sparks of pleasure skittered along his nerves. The gold in Methos' odd eyes seemed to deepen at the sound and Duncan felt his friend's cock twitch against his own.
Duncan opened his mouth to speak and Methos quite deliberately repeated the motion. All of Duncan's words vanished in the pulse of pleasure and his mouth remained hanging open stupidly as he struggled to get enough air, his awareness focused tightly on the intrusion that caused such sensations. Methos apparently took that as invitation enough and raised his head to capture Duncan's mouth in a confident kiss. The smooth tangle of tongues and the silky glide of lips over his own distracted Duncan and he forgot about his own unease with the situation as he surrendered to the known pleasures of a lover's mouth.
Methos grinned to himself as Duncan practically threw himself into the kiss; it seemed the brave Highlander's courage needed a little coaxing - not that he was complaining. Methos let Duncan take control of the kiss, more than happy to allow the plundering of his mouth in exchange for this golden opportunity. His exploring fingers began to set up an easy rhythm, careful never to push too far or too fast and upset the fragile balance of permission.
It was a beautiful sight, the Highlander surrendering to this unfamiliar pleasure, trusting his friend implicitly with more than just his body. Methos felt himself harden further still with the sudden need he felt for his friend, but things weren't quite ready yet. One hand slipped behind Duncan's head pulling him down for another kiss as Methos slipped his fingers from Duncan's welcoming heat and wrapped his arm around his lover's waist. Then with a quick push and twist, it was the Highlander being pressed into the mattress, Methos resting easily between his legs. Duncan didn't seem unduly distressed by the sudden change of positions and Methos found himself caught by the visible manifestation of the other Immortal's need. Panting, bare skin glistening golden, sunlight on sweat. "Methos." Voice deep and rich with wanting, beautiful. "Methos," it took the second attempt to pull the ancient Immortal from his fascination.
"What?" Methos asked, only thinking to be concerned after the word had left his lips. Had he moved too quickly? Was Mac having second thoughts? Did he want to stop? For a horrifying moment Methos wasn't sure how he'd react to that scenario; he wanted the Highlander far too much for his own peace of mind. His worry turned out to be completely unfounded though.
"Enough, please," Duncan begged, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring in the least. "Fuck me," and Methos blinked at hearing the words he'd only ever heard before in his dreams. "Now!" Duncan commanded, Clan chieftain's voice. Methos felt a truly wicked grin stretch across his face and he pushed himself to all fours, above the Highlander, letting Duncan see his expression.
"You sure?" Methos asked, all false concern.
Methos was perfectly happy to interpret the throaty sound as certainty on Duncan's part. And he was achingly ready to acquiesce to the Highlander's insistent demand - more than ready. Oh yes, he wanted to fuck Duncan MacLeod, but he knew he had to find some restraint. He couldn't simply spread the strong thighs and sheathe himself in that perfect body. Duncan was still new to this; that hadn't changed, and Methos was determined to prepare him enough for the experience to be utterly pleasurable... one he would be begging to repeat.
Sex hadn't exactly been on Methos' agenda for the afternoon - he had nothing with him to ease their joining, and Duncan was virgin tight. Just probing him with a single finger had shown Methos that. They'd simply have to take this slowly and carefully. Besides, Methos considered himself a master of improvisation. Either way, he had no intention of hurting his new lover in an ill-considered rush of overenthusiasm. First, though, both of them were still wearing far too many clothes for Methos' liking.
Ignoring Duncan's immediate protest he pushed himself up onto his knees and then slid off the bed. The other Immortal sat up, reaching for him, but as soon as he saw what Methos was doing Duncan quieted. Methos had wasted no time in unfastening his jeans the rest of the way and then wriggling his hips so that the denim slipped down his legs until he could step out of them.
Duncan gaped as his friend stripped, fully revealing his lean, muscular body. Methos was beautiful, no other word suited him, the Highlander decided. Before he had the chance to actually start drooling in anticipation, Methos had bent over him, tugging at his shoes and socks. Then he grasped the tangle of material bunched around Duncan's knees, discarding both jeans and underwear in one decisive movement.
"Much better," Methos purred as he surveyed the naked Highlander.
Oh yes, he couldn't wait to feel those strong legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged into... *Oops, not the way to go if you want to last long enough to actually get inside him,* Methos scolded himself.
He raised his eyes, trailing a molten green gaze all the way up Duncan's body until it locked with the equally heated eyes of the Highlander - big and velvet brown. Fear, lust, joy, anticipation... Duncan's expression contained elements of all those emotions.
"Methos," he breathed. "Enough... I don't want to wait; I can't!"
"Oh, but you can, Highlander - and you will," Methos assured him with a lazy smile. "I promise I'll make it worth the wait."
Methos dropped back down onto the mattress, taking a long moment just to look. Then he twisted sinuously so that he was on all fours once more and began to advance on Duncan, who fell back against the sheets in the face of the predator intent on stalking him. With feline grace Methos lowered his body to Duncan's, sliding over him sensually - skin to skin.
The contact seemed to set every nerve in Duncan's body on fire all at once. When Methos made a point of rubbing their swollen cocks together with small motions of his hips Duncan whimpered with need. He spread his legs, letting Methos sink into the space he had created for him.
"Now!" he begged breathlessly.
"Soon," insisted Methos and leaned down for a slow, tantalising kiss. His mouth possessed Duncan's, stealing what little breath the Highlander still had. But before Duncan could truly reciprocate Methos was moving again, this time back down the eager body beneath him.
His lips ghosted over the strong neck, tongue stealing out to sample the salt taste of the sweat beading Duncan's skin. Then Methos paused to suckle both dark nipples back to taut hardness. Moving on downwards he hesitated again at Duncan's navel, tongue-fucking the shallow indentation until the Highlander was ready to scream. Methos allowed himself a brief diversion to the thick, weeping cock, lapping up a little of the moisture pooled at its tip. But he had another destination in mind and he nuzzled his way carefully behind Duncan's heavy balls, now single-minded in his intent.
He could feel Duncan tensing up as he approached his goal and he raised his head for just a moment, looking up into his lover's face. The eyes were wide with a mixture of uncertainty and a soul deep need. Duncan wanted this, no matter how unsure he was in this virgin territory.
"Trust me?" Methos asked, his voice low and soothing.
Duncan swallowed hard and gave a barely perceptible nod. When Methos didn't move he nodded more decisively. "Always," he said, the need clear in his voice.
"You won't regret it." Methos smiled, slow and sensual, before the sleek dark head burrowed back between Duncan's thighs.
He slid his hands under the Highlander's buttocks, cupping the smooth muscles in warm palms and tilting his hips to allow him access. He felt Duncan shiver as his slow, regular breaths tickled the tight entrance. He exhaled again, deeply and deliberately, liking the feeling of his lover's body shuddering around him. Then, with equal deliberation, Methos lowered his mouth to the ring of muscle, moistening it with his saliva.
Duncan groaned as the liquid caress touched him so intimately. The sound was torn from deep in his chest, desperate and needy. He felt as if Methos were taking him apart piece by piece, but God, it did feel good. A slick, eager tongue licked over his entrance again and again until Duncan thought his body would turn to jelly just from those wet strokes. He wanted to touch himself, but knew that if he did it would be over in seconds - and he wanted Methos inside him when he came. If Duncan was certain of anything any more, it was that.
The Highlander wasn't the only one close to coming. Methos was also in danger of losing it as he sank into the intimate tastes and scents of Duncan's body. He could feel the other Immortal slowly relaxing as the pleasure swept him up. Tentatively Methos thrust his tongue against the tight hole and this time it slid into the dark warmth. He heard Duncan keen with delight again and began to press deeper, using his saliva to slick the tight passage in readiness for his cock.
Methos pulled away slowly, laving the guardian muscle thoroughly, seducing it into relaxation. When the second slick penetration came, Duncan's hands lost their grip on the sheets, reaching unerringly for the dark head buried between his thighs. Methos' hair was thick and soft beneath his fingers, but he only noted it briefly as his touch seemed to provoke another deep surge of pleasure.
This was unbelievable... so good. Duncan knew his fingers were carding restlessly through his lover's hair, tugging hard enough sometimes that it had to be painful, but Methos made no protest and Duncan couldn't have stopped if he'd tried. Another little twist between his legs and Duncan was arching up, trying desperately to deepen the contact, spreading his legs further apart until the muscles began to protest. "Methos," he groaned, pleading and he didn't care.
With a last, regretful swipe, Methos' tongue slipped out and away as the Oldest Immortal pushed himself up, gold-green eyes meeting Duncan's own. "Don't worry," Methos murmured before Duncan could complain as he began to move up and away.
Duncan struggled to do as Methos said, but only relaxed again when Methos settled next to him, pressed close. "Turn on your side, Duncan," Methos murmured with a hand on Duncan's hip to guide him. A little puzzled, Duncan obeyed and realisation hit when Methos rolled close against his back and he felt the hard heat of his lover's erection nestled against his ass.
The hand on his hip slipped back into the cleft of Duncan's ass and Duncan caught his breath as two fingers slipped inside, moving slowly, stretching him a little more. Methos' breath by his ear distracted him from the deep sensations, "Don't worry, Duncan," Methos repeated, "It'll be easier this way the first time."
Duncan nodded, speech requiring more effort than he could spare at the moment. Methos withdrew his fingers carefully, it would be easier this way, but not painless and there was nothing he could do about that except prepare his lover for it. He shifted his position, sliding one arm beneath the Highlander's neck, supporting him a little better. He quickly spat into his palm and wrapped his hand around his cock, mixing spit with precome and lubricating his aching cock as best he could, hissing at the sudden stimulation after deliberately ignoring it for so long. He was so close and Duncan couldn't be much better off.
Methos positioned himself carefully and dropped a light kiss on the Highlander's bare shoulder, then another on his throat. "This will hurt, Duncan," he whispered into his lover's ear and watched the Highlander shiver in response. "But I promise you it will get better," he finished and waited for Duncan's nod before dropping another quick kiss on his shoulder and beginning to press inside.
As Methos had warned, it did hurt - the thick hardness of his cock stretching Duncan's opening far more than his fingers had done. Duncan's first instinct was to tense against the painful intrusion and Methos stilled at once.
Soft lips brushed Duncan's shoulder in a reassuring caress. They glided over warm, sweat-damp skin, encouraging, relaxing. Long fingers moved aside the heavy fall of Duncan's hair so the gentle kisses could continue, tracing a path up the side of his neck. When Methos reached Duncan's ear he nibbled lightly at the lobe before softly whispering, "Relax, Duncan. I won't go on until you're ready."
"I'm sorry," Duncan murmured, suddenly feeling guilty about making Methos wait.
"Mac, there's nothing to be sorry about. I swear, if you start pulling a guilt trip on me now I will fuck you so hard you'll be seeing stars for weeks!" Methos nipped sharply at Duncan's neck in warning.
Duncan gave a nervous laugh. "Fine, no guilt trip, no brooding - I promise. Do your worst!"
"Oh no..." Methos' lips were still close to Duncan's ear and his warm breath tickled as he spoke. "Only the best for you, Highlander. I want you to love what I'm going to do to you. I can wait until you're ready."
At least, Methos hoped he could. He was so close to coming. The tight clasp of Duncan's body around the head of his cock was both heaven and hell. It took 5,000 years worth of restraint not to simply thrust deeper into that inviting warmth.
To distract himself Methos began to trace the whorls of Duncan's ear with his tongue. He sucked at the fleshy lobe and felt Duncan shiver slightly. Perhaps he could also distract the Highlander... Shifting his weight fractionally Methos leaned over Duncan, lapping at the sensitive cartilage. Then he dipped the tip of his tongue into Duncan's ear, lazily fucking it the way he wanted his cock to be moving in Duncan's ass.
Duncan shuddered as Methos set up a leisurely rhythm and, after a few minutes, the distraction did seem to be working. Methos felt Duncan's muscles start to relax their firm clasp on his cock. Carefully he eased his hips in a slow glide against Duncan's backside. He was still tight, but Methos could feel his cock slip deeper into the Highlander's body.
The alien mixture of pain and pleasure he felt as Methos slowly inched his cock into him made Duncan moan, an animal sound from low in his throat. The wet tongue doing devilish things to his ear kept his mind off the pain somewhat, and then Methos' free hand glided down his flank and found his flagging erection. The long fingers curled around it, urging it back to hardness.
Instinctively Duncan thrust forward into the encircling hand, wanting the familiar pleasure of a sure touch on his cock. The movement had the added effect of causing Methos' cock to slide almost all the way out of his ass. The burning glide of skin on skin made Duncan gasp in surprised delight. God, it felt good. He turned his head, trying to see Methos' face. All he caught a glimpse of were green-gold eyes glittering with a hungry passion which startled him.
"Does that feel good?" Methos' whisper was a sensual caress in itself. The other man's voice seemed to have dropped an octave - deep and very sexy.
Duncan could only nod. His own voice had failed him completely.
Methos gave a breathy laugh and then eased his hips in a sinuous movement that slowly slid his cock back into Duncan, deeper this time. The heat and the tight grip of Duncan's body on his cock held Methos on a knife-edge of pleasure. It could only be a matter of moments before he fell. He wanted to take Duncan over with him, but he wasn't sure his control would last that long.
He squeezed Duncan's cock firmly, feeling the steel under the velvety glide of the foreskin. His thumb brushed the tip, spreading the sticky moisture leaking from it. Duncan was moaning softly, still thrusting into his fist. Methos rode the movement of his hips, pressing harder and deeper into the Highlander's ass. He knew when he found Duncan's prostate because he cried out, startled by the sudden influx of sensation.
Methos began to fuck him in earnest then, feeling the tingling spreading through his own body that heralded his climax. His hand tightened on Duncan's cock, wanting him to share the moment of pleasure. He felt the sudden spill of liquid over his fingers as Duncan came. The Highlander threw his head back until it rested on Methos' shoulder and his beautiful body tensed and shuddered against the old Immortal's.
It was what Methos had been waiting for and he let go of his tenuous control, thrusting hard and deep into the spasming body. The clench of muscles around his cock triggered Methos' orgasm. He cried out as he came. It was a blessed release indeed as Methos let out all his buried feelings for Duncan along with the hot spurt of his semen deep inside him. He pulled the Highlander close, both of them trembling and panting from the intensity of their climax. Methos pressed his face against the strong curve of Duncan's neck, smothering any ill-advised declarations in the sweaty skin.
It was a long time before their breathing slowed to normal. Duncan felt the long body at his back slowly relax, the tight hold Methos had on him easing. He slid forward tentatively and felt Methos' softened cock slip out of him. It left a deep ache in its wake, but the sensation was far from unpleasant, speaking of an equally deep satisfaction. Duncan knew in any case that any slight damage to the sensitive tissues of his ass would heal soon enough. Besides, the pleasure Methos had brought him far outweighed the initial discomfort.
Duncan slowly rolled over and couldn't help smiling when he saw that Methos' eyes were closed. Typical! Trust the old man to fall asleep on him. Duncan let his gaze wander over the relaxed form of his lover - it felt surprisingly good to be able to think of Methos that way - lying beside him.
What now, though? Where did they go from here? Had this really meant anything to Methos or had it just been a momentary distraction for him? Duncan wasn't sure which option scared him more. His eyes flicked down to the foot of the bed, lighting on the reel of duct tape looped around the bedpost. He shivered slightly, remembering Methos' words to him earlier about the pleasures of relinquishing control. Was he ready for something like that? Playing games with Amanda was one thing, but with Methos? The ancient Immortal was his equal in every way; what would it be like...?
An unwilling smile tugged at Duncan's lips. He really did know how to pick his partners, didn't he.
Methos came awake slowly, far too content to be rushed. He could feel Duncan lying close to his side, bare skin surprisingly soft against his own. The Highlander hadn't run as Methos had half-feared he might at first, but then things had gone so *very* well, if he did say so himself, and the certainty that Duncan had felt it so as well, had followed him into some very pleasant dreams.
With a lazy smile, Methos reached out to run a light touch over his lover's chest. Or tried to. What the... Gold/green eyes flew open in surprise and Duncan almost laughed out loud at the expression on his lover's face as he discovered himself quite securely bound. The Highlander couldn't restrain the grin though as he raised his hand into his lover's view and jiggled the reel of duct tape around his wrist.
Methos' eyes narrowed for a moment, and Duncan suddenly wondered if he should have asked first. But then his lover's lips began to slowly curve up and the eventual smile was pure invitation. Duncan found his own smile returning full-force. "Well you did say sometime soon," Duncan said with just a hint of imp in his voice.
"I did indeed," Methos agreed, his voice low and once again doing alarming things to the Highlander's blood pressure.
"And I've always learned better from a good demonstration," Duncan continued with a slight question in his tone. Methos seemed amenable enough, but he wanted to be sure, he wasn't going to let avoidable misunderstandings ruin what appeared to be growing between them.
Methos' response was a broad grin and a twist of the lithe body as he got himself a little more comfortable in his bonds. Duncan found himself avidly watching the movement of muscle beneath his lover's smooth skin - the things he'd like to do... "Well in that case, Highlander," Methos chuckled interrupting Duncan's greedy thoughts, open invitation in his hazel eyes, "it would seem that hands-on is the way to go."
Duncan was grinning as his hands sought his lover's skin with no conscious command of his own. "Absolutely," he breathed and he bent down to claim the first of many kisses.