DISCLAIMER - Highlander and its characters is the copyright of Rysher and Panzer/Davis Productions and no infringement is intended. Savage Garden lyrics copyright Sony Music and used without permission. The story, such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan December 1999.
With thanks to Margaret for betaing, and being kinder than this story warranted!
"Maybe it's intuition But some things you just don't question Like in your eyes I see my future in an instant And there it goes I think I've found my best friend" - "I knew I loved you" - Savage Garden
Adam Pierson. Duncan MacLeod turned the name over in his mind. As he strode along the quiet street towards the address Joe Dawson had given him he wondered what this Watcher researcher would be like. Duncan couldn't imagine why someone would be prepared to devote their life to the pursuit of a myth... But then again, Joe had also insisted that Methos wasn't a myth. Duncan shook his head. He still wasn't entirely sure he believed that - though Kalas was evidently convinced. How could one man survive for so long? And, if he did, how could he possibly remain sane? Nevertheless, if there was any chance at all that Methos was real - and still alive - then Duncan knew he had to get to him first, before Kalas had a chance to try for his head. And the first step towards that goal was finding Adam Pierson.
The building he was looking for was just up ahead, but as he approached it Duncan felt Immortal presence wash over him. Strong, rich, deep - like a chorus of a thousand voices it surrounded him. Startled, Duncan looked around, alert for any danger, but there was no one in sight. They were already inside, then. Had Kalas beaten him to it? Got to Adam Pierson first? Recalling the way he had stumbled upon the other Watcher in the bookshop Duncan hoped not. And yet, it didn't precisely feel like Kalas; at least, not the way Duncan remembered him.
Cautiously Duncan advanced and tried the door. It opened easily - as if he were expected - and he stepped inside. Just in case it was Kalas who was waiting for him Duncan kept his katana ready in his hand as he slowly began to descend the stairs. Whoever the other Immortal was he had to be aware of Duncan's presence, though, so silence seemed unnecessary.
"Adam, Adam Pierson," Duncan called, but there was no reply. As he moved further down the stairs the reason for that became clear. The tinny sound of too loud music bleeding out of a set of headphones floated up to him. "Are you Adam Pierson?" he asked again, a little louder.
The figure which had been sitting on the floor with its back to him, hunched over a book, straightened up and turned. The headphones were discarded and the background jangle of music ceased. A pair of disconcertingly direct hazel eyes swept Duncan from head to toe, assessing him, as their owner leaned back against the foot of the large bed which filled a sizeable chunk of the living space.
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." The voice seemed to match the eyes perfectly - rich and almost musical.
Simply listening to that voice sent a shiver down Duncan's spine. Who the hell was this Adam Pierson? Whatever else Joe might have failed to mention about him, the not-so-insignificant fact that he was an Immortal and the source of that incredibly strong buzz did not escape Duncan. And he had been worried about the possible danger if he ran into Kalas... the potential threat from the Immortal he had found suddenly seemed far greater to Duncan. He stared, wary and off balance. Before he could decide how he ought to proceed the slender figure reached out a hand, snatched up a can from the stash beside him on the floor and launched it in a gentle arc towards Duncan.
"Have a beer."
Duncan caught the can easily and stared at it as if it might explode in his face.
"Mi casa es su casa."
The strangely chosen words pulled Duncan's attention back to the man sprawled so casually on the floor. They weren't exactly what one Immortal expected to hear from another of his kind, especially not a total stranger. A challenge was far more usual, unless...
We've got a guy at the university there, Adam Pierson. He's been our top Methos scholar for about ten years. He knows as much about Methos as anybody.
Joe's words echoed in Duncan's mind, combining with his unexpected discovery of a very much Immortal Adam Pierson - because surely this was Pierson. After all, who else would have been expecting Duncan MacLeod's arrival here? Certain logical connections were made and an inescapable conclusion began to form in Duncan's brain. His eyes widened in shocked surprise.
"Methos?" The surprise mixed with wonderment in Duncan's voice and on his face. Could this unassuming, young-looking man really be the oldest living Immortal? The uncertainty held Duncan motionless as he waited for confirmation or denial.
The compelling hazel eyes were veiled as Methos, Adam or whatever else he wanted to call himself lowered his lashes in silent acknowledgement of Duncan's intuitive leap. Then the intent stare pinned him again as Methos looked up, a small smile playing about his lips.
"Are you going to put that thing away? Or were you planning on using it?" The rich voice held a faint note of amusement as Methos again let his gaze trail lazily over his awestruck visitor. As their eyes met at the end of the slow inspection Methos' head tilted back against the bed, exposing his pale throat.
"What?" Duncan wrenched his gaze away from the unsettling eyes and their equally unsettling owner. Glancing down he noticed his sword was still grasped tightly in his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... when I felt another Immortal I thought... Well, let's just say I wasn't expecting Adam Pierson to be an Immortal." No, Duncan thought to himself, he wasn't planning on using the katana - and he was sure Methos was perfectly aware of that fact. For all the seeming vulnerability of his pose, the other Immortal seemed totally comfortable and unconcerned for his safety. Duncan quickly sheathed his sword before crossing the room to stand in front of the other man.
Methos looked up at the figure looming over him and smiled. "No, I doubt you were."
"Then why did you agree to meet me, knowing it would blow your cover?" Duncan frowned, trying to understand this enigmatic man - this myth. If there was one thing he was sure of it was that an Immortal as old as Methos wouldn't do anything without a very good reason. You didn't survive that long doing otherwise.
"Curiosity?" Methos suggested blandly.
Duncan's frown deepened. "Curiosity? About what?"
The hazel eyes glittered with sudden fire. "About you. Your reputation proceeds you, Highlander. I've heard a lot about you, read some of your Chronicles. They all say that you are an honourable man. It seemed an acceptable risk so I thought perhaps it was time that we met."
"You wanted to meet me?" Duncan sounded profoundly sceptical. What would a myth want with him?
Oh yes, Highlander, thought Methos, I've been wanting to meet you for quite some time now - whether you believe it or not. I thought you might be the One... and you more than live up to the promise of your Chronicles. Methos felt heat bloom low in his belly. Oh yes indeed, Duncan MacLeod's fire could warm him for a very long time... The old Immortal clamped down on his errant hormones, cursing the fact that, even after five millennia, they were still capable of ambushing him. He schooled his expression before looking up at Duncan again. If he was only prepared to accept a more mundane explanation...
"Dawson asked me to meet you. I could hardly refuse; there was no reason to." Methos shrugged casually. "He would have wondered why. He might even have worked it out for himself given a little time and thought. He's a smart guy."
"Yeah, he is that." Duncan crouched down in front of Methos, uncomfortable with the way the other Immortal was having to look up at him. Not that he felt a great deal more comfortable with that acute gaze now only a matter of inches away from him. The paradox of such an old soul housed in this young-seeming body unsettled Duncan. Not to mention that those bright, changeable eyes seemed to see right through him. Again Duncan felt shivers running down his spine.
"You know, I wondered how you knew my name when I first walked in here," said Duncan with a slightly nervous laugh. He was talking just for the sake of talking, he knew, but he needed to break the intensity of the moment. Perhaps if he had a normal conversation with Methos he'd be able to get over the awe he felt at being faced with someone he'd always been certain was just a myth. "I forgot Dawson had told you I was coming. Still, Kalas might have found you first..."
"I knew who you were. Like I said, I've read your Chronicles - seen the photo collection." Methos grinned. "It's amazing what you can do with a telephoto lens these days." He sobered abruptly. "If Kalas had walked in here he would have been greeted with a sword, not a can of beer. After he killed Don I made sure I'd know his face."
Something very old and vicious glittered in Methos' eyes for a moment, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Nevertheless, the brief glimpse chilled Duncan. Clearly there was so much more to this man than just Adam Pierson, but how could he have expected otherwise? Methos had lived for thousands of years, after all. Duncan wasn't sure he was ready to cope with the possible implications of that fact. For now it was easier, and more comfortable, to simply deal with Adam Pierson.
"I don't... I still find it hard to get used to the idea of one of us being a Watcher," Duncan said, anxious to break the sudden silence.
"It's by no means the first time it's happened, MacLeod. And Dawson's not the first Watcher to get close to his subject, either." Methos regarded the Highlander steadily. "It's just that when it does happen it doesn't go into the records."
"So as not to encourage other Watchers to get involved," Duncan surmised. Methos nodded. "Does Joe have any idea who you are?" asked Duncan curiously.
"No, and I'd just as soon keep it that way," said Methos, a warning in his tone. "It's complicated enough that you know. And I still don't know how you did that. You were just supposed to discover Adam Pierson's dark secret, not mine!" Methos couldn't entirely hide the fact that Duncan had impressed him by working it out so quickly.
"Neither do I," Duncan admitted, "but... I suppose it just made sense and then when I saw your eyes... Well, then I was certain. They looked so old..."
"Enough with the compliments, MacLeod, you'll turn my head," Methos snapped sarcastically. Truthfully, he was finding the intensity of Duncan's gaze at such close range a little uncomfortable. It sent his hormones into overdrive again. Damn, he should have got laid a long time ago, then he wouldn't have been so susceptible to the Highlander's dark good looks... maybe.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," said Duncan hurriedly. "In all honesty I still can't believe I'm actually here talking to Methos, the oldest of our kind. It's not every day a myth comes to life right in front of your eyes. I'm feeling a little out of my depth here. Next to you I'm just a child; I know that, but - well, I hope that maybe in time we can be friends. I'd really like it if we could be."
"So would I, Duncan MacLeod," said Methos softly. And if you are a child, I would gladly indulge in a little cradle-snatching, thought the old Immortal wistfully.
The pleased smile which curved the Highlander's full lips at his words did nothing to cool the fire flickering inside Methos. He'd been cold, alone, barely living for far too long. Duncan was dangerously tempting - and so awestruck in the presence of the hitherto mythical oldest Immortal. It would be so easy to take advantage of that. It could be such a short step from awe to worship, Methos knew that from personal experience. But something told the old Immortal that Duncan's friendship would be worth a lot more to him than the momentary pleasure of a quick tumble, no matter how enticing the latter was. And sooner or later Duncan would realise Methos really didn't match up to his ideal of 'the Oldest Immortal', better he shattered that illusion now.
Duncan watched the changeable eyes, fascinated. A thousand thoughts seemed to be reflected in their depths. It was a definite disappointment when Methos shuttered them behind his long lashes again. Duncan drew in a deep breath, realising that he had been so intent on watching Methos' face that he'd forgotten to breathe. At almost the same moment Duncan also realised that he had unconsciously moved closer to Methos, leaning in until their faces were mere inches apart.
At that second Methos opened his eyes again. Startled, Duncan gasped and pulled back. What had he been thinking? "I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I don't know what..."
"Don't you?" Methos' voice was rich with amusement. "I don't think that's true." Oh, this was too perfect an opportunity to pass up - and no need for guilt on his part as Duncan had made the first move. "Do you like what you see?"
"You - really do have the most amazing eyes..." breathed Duncan.
"Really? I thought for a moment there that you might have been going to kiss me, MacLeod," the deep, insinuating voice continued. "You were close enough to kiss me. What would you have done if I hadn't opened my eyes?"
Duncan shook his head. He honestly didn't know the answer to that. He hadn't even realised what he was doing. But the idea of kissing Methos... It ignited a fire inside Duncan, one to match the blaze already alight in the oldest Immortal.
And Methos saw it in the Highlander's dark eyes. Oh yes, this was just perfect. Methos sprawled even more invitingly against the bed, once again baring the pale column of his throat to Duncan's hungry gaze.
"Tell me, MacLeod, are you always this forward?" Humour and lust in equal parts sparkled in Methos' eyes.
"Tell me, Methos, do you flirt this outrageously with every strange Immortal who walks through your door?" retorted Duncan.
"Touche," conceded Methos. "But to answer your question, only when I'm sure they don't want to take my head - well, not this one at any rate," he added archly.
To make his point even more directly the old Immortal caressed his throat idly with one long-fingered hand. Once he was certain he had Duncan's undivided attention he trailed his fingers down his chest, over his belly and all the way to his crotch. There Methos curved his palm protectively over the unmistakable bulge in his black jeans. Two pairs of eyes focused in the same place as Methos continued, "This one, on the other hand, is open to offers..." A sultry smile accompanied the provocative words.
"What the hell are ye doin' to me, Methos?" asked Duncan huskily. "I barely know ye..."
Duncan knelt between the old Immortal's casually spread legs, caught in Methos' hungry gaze. His reaction to the other man had startled him. It was so sudden, so visceral. And yet it felt completely right. If there was such a thing as fate, thought Duncan, then this certainly felt as if it were fated.
"Methos..." Duncan made one last attempt at stopping what seemed to have become inevitable. Not that he really wanted to and nor, it appeared, did Methos.
"You knew who I was, MacLeod." Methos' shoulders lifted in a dismissive gesture. "What more do you need to know?"
"Do you no' understand?" Duncan insisted. "I can't take this as lightly as you seem to. You're Methos - and until today I didn't think you existed. But now you're here, real - all 5,000 years of you." Duncan shook his head. "I feel like I should be asking you any one of a hundred profound questions and yet... all I can think about is the fact that I'm sitting here while you seduce me!"
"You're not making it very hard..." Methos glanced down at his swollen groin with a sly grin. "The seduction, I mean. But just for the record, I don't do profound. If you want profound, try a fortune cookie."
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation!" Duncan glared at Methos.
"But you do want me." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes." Duncan answered as if it had been anyway.
"And I want you. So where's the problem?" Methos couldn't understand why the Highlander was fighting it. Surely he could feel the inevitability of the moment.
Duncan's jumper was long, but it didn't hide the erection tenting the front of his trousers. His body knew what it wanted, so why was his mind resisting? From the reports Methos had come across about the all but legendary exploits of Duncan MacLeod none of them had suggested he had any qualms about tumbling into bed with someone he'd only just met - and gender didn't trouble him either. The man clearly enjoyed sex - and why not? So why did he have to start trying to analyse the attraction now?
"Methos, you're forgetting about Kalas..." protested Duncan.
"No I'm not, but he'll keep for the time being," insisted Methos. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward until he was nose to nose with the Highlander. "Now, are you going to make good on a few of the promises your eyes have been making ever since you walked in here? You look like you want to eat me alive..."
"Oh, I do," admitted Duncan as his lips just brushed Methos'.
"Then be my guest," invited the old Immortal.
His mouth moved against Duncan's, backing up the invitation in his words. The Highlander's lips were soft and promised all kinds of pleasures. Methos tasted them delicately with the tip of his tongue. As he probed a little more insistently Duncan finally parted his lips and Methos pressed inside. Only their mouths were in contact, but the sensations were electric. Methos stroked his tongue against Duncan's, encouraging the Highlander to respond and deepening their kiss.
At last, under Methos' skilful prompting, Duncan pushed his uncertainties aside. His hands came up to frame Methos' face, holding the oldest Immortal still. Then he took control of the kiss, pushing his tongue past Methos' lips to explore the heat of his mouth. Duncan found Methos a more than willing participant and as he probed more insistently he tasted beer and the indefinable sweetness that was the oldest Immortal.
For his part, Methos was quite content to allow Duncan control - for now. The Highlander certainly knew how to kiss. Methos hadn't had his breath stolen from him quite so thoroughly in a very long time. It wouldn't hurt to move things along a little, though, so Methos slid his hands up under Duncan's coat. He traced the length of the broad back until he settled on the muscular curves of Duncan's backside. Heat filled his palms as Duncan thrust up into his touch.
Duncan released Methos' mouth, dragging in a much needed lungful of air. He allowed himself only a moment's pause before he bent his head again, this time turning his attention to the oldest Immortal's pale, enticing neck. A small sound of approval escaped Methos as Duncan's tongue drew a cool, moist trail from below one ear to the hollow of his throat. Duncan nipped at the prominent Adam's apple, but his explorations were hampered by the high- necked grey T-shirt Methos wore.
With an impatient gesture Duncan dropped his hands to Methos' shoulders. He was also wearing an unbuttoned black shirt and as Duncan pushed at the dark fabric Methos obligingly shrugged out of it. Then Duncan rocked back on his heels, giving himself the room to tug the offending T-shirt from Methos' waistband and pull it over his head in one swift motion. Duncan tossed it aside and let his eyes devour his prize. Methos' skin was smooth and pale - it looked whiter still contrasted against the bed's black quilt. Duncan reached out and ran his palms lightly down Methos' chest.
The old Immortal sighed with pleasure at the feeling of warm fingers touching him. He let his head fall back against the mattress and closed his eyes. The caresses continued and Methos felt calloused fingertips slowly circle his nipples. A shudder ran through him at the touch. A moment later he moaned aloud as the silky brush of Duncan's hair joined the other sensations playing over his skin. The ticklish caress moved lower, causing the muscles in Methos' belly to clench tightly. And when the touch of fingertips was replaced by the heat of Duncan's mouth suckling gently on his nipples Methos almost lost control completely.
As the slender body bucked under him Duncan smiled to himself, his lips curving against the warm skin. A part of his mind still reeled from the implications of what he was doing, and to whom - how had he found himself making love to the oldest of Immortals - but mostly Duncan simply revelled in the heat and sweetness of the responsive creature he held. Methos certainly wasn't objecting to anything being done to him - the sighs and moans of pleasure being uttered in that rich voice were music to Duncan's ears.
While he still licked and nipped at the taut peaks of flesh Duncan let his hands roam. He trailed them lower down Methos' body, feeling the heat that radiated from him. Hindered by fabric again, the Highlander made quick work of the fastenings on Methos' jeans. To his surprise Duncan found bare skin as he pushed the dark denim aside. Apparently Methos didn't care for underwear - not that Duncan was complaining.
Nor, it seemed, was Methos. The oldest Immortal pushed himself up from the floor, encouraging Duncan to free him completely from the tight jeans. By the time the manoeuvre was accomplished Methos was perched naked on the end of his bed with the still fully clothed Highlander kneeling between his spread thighs.
Duncan tilted his head back, looking up at Methos. The man was breathtaking. His pale skin shone with a fine sheen of sweat in the warm room. Unclothed the long limbs revealed taut muscles that promised a strength to match Duncan's own. And enticingly close, the oldest Immortal's erect penis tempted Duncan. He pulled his gaze away from it, instead meeting Methos' eyes. They smouldered with green fire, but a hint of amusement sparkled in their depths. Unsure of himself again, Duncan frowned. Was Methos toying with him, laughing at him?
"Why are you doing this?" he blurted out.
The ancient eyes widened in surprise. "I should have thought that was obvious, MacLeod. You have your face practically in my crotch, after all," Methos responded dryly.
"That's not what I meant and you know it," insisted Duncan. "You don't know me and yet, here you are..." The Highlander gestured with one hand, indicating Methos' naked and vulnerable state.
"I know enough," replied Methos softly. "You, Highlander, are that rare thing - an honourable man. I trust you - Gods help the both of us - and I want you. For the time being that's all that matters."
"But why would you want me, Methos?" Duncan's uncertainty was clear.
"Have you looked in a mirror lately, MacLeod?" Methos asked with a faint smile. He leaned forward, framing Duncan's face in his palms. "You're still hung up on this whole oldest Immortal thing, aren't you? Well, don't be. Age has nothing to do with this. It's about passion - something that has been sadly lacking in my life for far too long. But you have it. Will you share your passion with me, Highlander?" Methos caught Duncan's mouth in a brief, searing kiss. Then he drew back and pushed Duncan's head gently downward towards his straining cock.
The Highlander resisted a moment longer and then allowed the steady pressure on the back of his head to bring his face within inches of the hard flesh. The scent of Methos' arousal flooded his senses. Duncan drew in a deep breath and leaned further forward.
At the same moment Methos tilted his hips slightly and the small movement brought the tip of his cock into contact with Duncan's lips. The touch of flesh on flesh shocked gasps from both men and as Duncan's mouth opened Methos surged upwards, sliding his cock into moist heat.
Duncan closed his lips instinctively around the hard length which invaded his mouth. He braced his hands on Methos' thighs and began to explore the prize he had won with darting strokes of his tongue. As he licked and sucked the heated flesh Methos' long fingers threaded into his hair, guiding his explorations. It didn't take long for Duncan to pick up the rhythm Methos sought and he soon felt the unmistakable tension in the old Immortal's body. Just moments later salty sweetness pulsed into his mouth as Methos came.
Methos tightened his grip on Duncan's hair, holding the Highlander still as he spilled his essence into the talented mouth. It felt wonderful. It had been a long time since Methos had taken any lover - almost two centuries since he'd last made love to another Immortal. As Duncan gently suckled his softening cock Methos decided it had been worth the wait. But now the waiting was over he wanted MacLeod out of his clothes - wanted the strength his body promised writhing naked under him. There were times when masquerading as an unassuming Watcher could be frustrating in the extreme. Knowing Methos for what he was, MacLeod could be just what he needed to relieve some of those frustrations.
As soon as Duncan finally released his cock, Methos hauled him up off his knees with an impatient tug. He pulled Duncan onto the bed beside him and into another searching kiss. Methos' tongue delved deep into Duncan's mouth, laying claim to it. With nimble hands Methos then began to strip off Duncan's clothes. The coat was easily discarded, but then Methos had to relinquish the Highlander's mouth in order to pull the two sweaters Duncan was wearing over his head.
By this time Duncan had decided to become an active participant in his own undressing. His cock was making demands that were increasingly difficult to ignore and getting naked with Methos was becoming an ever more attractive prospect. While Methos went to work on his belt Duncan kicked off his shoes and socks. When the oldest Immortal urged him to move further up the bed and lie down - removing Duncan's trousers and briefs in the process - he obeyed.
Duncan barely had time to settle himself with his head on the pillows before he found himself blanketed by an agile, sweaty Immortal. There was a disconcertingly feral look in the hazel eyes as they stared down into Duncan's.
"I've waited too long for you to come to me, Highlander," said Methos in a husky whisper.
"Then you knew we'd meet?" asked Duncan, startled by the implications of that.
"I hoped so. I wonder if you realise how important you are..." Methos' voice tailed off and for a moment he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
"Me?" Duncan sounded sceptical.
"Such promise, for one so young..." The words were spoken lightly, but Methos' gaze was intense. "You have so much life in you. I'd forgotten what it was like to have that. Fire like yours, Highlander, is rare. Many would covet it for themselves."
"And you?" Duncan asked. "Do you want my Quickening?"
Methos shook his head. "You have nothing to fear from me. I prefer to keep your Quickening exactly where it is. Far more pleasurable for both of us that way, don't you think?"
Methos' eyes glittered with their own fire as he began to move against the strong body pinned beneath him. His cock was already stirring again as it brushed against the steel of Duncan's erection. Methos lowered his head and began to taste Duncan's tanned skin. He left a trail of bites down the sturdy neck and then slid back enough to give him access to the muscled contours of Duncan's chest. Methos nuzzled at the soft covering of dark hair, lapping at the pebbled skin beneath it with rough swipes of his tongue. He tasted salt with a faint underlying tang of soap.
Duncan writhed under him, the swollen length of his penis rubbing slickly against Methos' stomach. The spreading wetness on his skin and the pleasurable friction it created inflamed Methos. He nipped sharply at Duncan's erect nipples, making him groan and buck up against Methos more firmly.
Methos slid back up Duncan's body, bracing himself over him. He ground his hips down into the Highlander's, rubbing their cocks together. Methos built a steady rhythm and felt Duncan match it. He bent his head and Duncan's lips parted to greet him. Their tongues tangled, mimicking the sensual dance of their bodies.
As the pleasure built Duncan let his hands roam over Methos' skin. He could feel the leashed strength of the muscles flexing under his hands and knew without doubt that he was making love to an equal. His first impression of Adam Pierson had been of a slender, unassuming young man. Now, subject to Methos' confident possession of his body, Duncan could see how misleading that initial impression had been - which was no doubt what had been intended. What better way to catch an opponent off guard than by having him underestimate your strengths.
Soon, though, Duncan was beyond further coherent thought. The combination of Methos' kisses and the driving motions of his hips overwhelmed the Highlander. He thrust up against the lithe body frantically as fire spread along his limbs. Methos' mouth stole Duncan's cry of completion as he came. The sticky wetness quickly mingled with Methos' own as he succumbed to a second climax.
The old Immortal closed his eyes and let the sensations wash over him. The feeling of closeness was something he'd been denying himself for far too long. Yes, keeping himself apart from others was safer - it made survival more certain - but in the long run it was lonely. And Methos found that for the first time in many years he craved contact. It was a risk, but perhaps with MacLeod it was one worth taking...
Methos felt the familiar post-coital lassitude beginning to creep over him. Duncan's arms were still wound around him, inviting. With an effort Methos pulled himself free of them. Trust was one thing, stupidity quite another. Kalas was still out there, looking for Adam Pierson. It was reasonable to assume it wouldn't be too long before he found him. And wouldn't it be nice for him if he stumbled upon two sex-fogged Immortals sleeping like babies with their swords who knew where.
"Come on, MacLeod, get up!" Methos shook the still largely unresponsive Highlander. "We need to get cleaned up - and then we have to talk."
"What? Now you want to talk?" Duncan mumbled.
"Not about this - about Kalas." Methos shook his head. MacLeod might be good, but there was still work to be done with him. His survival instincts could use a little specialist training.
"Kalas... Oh my God, what was I thinking?" Duncan struggled into a sitting position and regarded the tousled, sticky figure beside him. He had to admit it was a sight he could get used to.
"Have you forgotten already?" In spite of the seriousness of the situation Methos couldn't help himself - the Highlander was delightfully easy to bait. "Perhaps you'd care for a little reminder..."
"Methos, this is serious! Dear God, I..." Duncan flushed. He could remember in vivid detail exactly what he had just done with the oldest Immortal. And it certainly had nothing to do with what he had originally come here for.
"Relax, MacLeod," said Methos, a note of exasperation in his voice. "Unless I'm very much mistaken - and I don't believe I am - neither of us did anything we didn't both want and, heaven knows, we're well past the age of consent."
Methos looked down at the stickiness on his belly and grimaced. He reached over the edge of the bed, groping for something to mop himself up with. What he found turned out to be his grey T-shirt. Methos shrugged and used it to clean off the drying mess anyway.
"But I do not make a habit of winding up in bed with someone I've only just met!" protested Duncan as he watched Methos' clean up operation. He pointedly ignored the old Immortal's raised eyebrows at his comment.
"If you say so." Methos smiled slyly. "But our lives would be incredibly dull if we didn't do something different every once in a while. Take it from one who knows."
"And is this 'something different' for you too?" asked Duncan, glancing at the old Immortal uncertainly.
Methos appeared to consider that for a moment before replying. "Yes, definitely a first." He didn't elaborate on that statement further. "But something that could stand a few repetitions, don't you think?" he added.
"Is that an invitation?" Duncan enquired, feeling a renewed stirring at his groin.
"Perhaps," conceded Methos. He clambered off the bed and padded across the floor, unselfconscious in his nakedness. He paused halfway to the stairs and looked back over his shoulder at Duncan. "The shower's this way," he announced. "And that is an invitation..."
Duncan didn't wait to be asked a third time.
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