DISCLAIMER - Highlander and its characters is the copyright of Rysher and Panzer/Davis Productions and no infringement is intended. The story, such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan January 1999.
This story is unbetaed; any errors are mine - mea culpa.
Methos fidgeted irritably with the unaccustomed restriction of a tight collar and tie encircling his neck and wondered for the umpteenth time just how he'd let Duncan MacLeod talk him into this. He glanced around at the overdressed crowd that milled aimlessly about in the large room and shuddered. Quite simply, Methos hated events like these and the words 'black tie' were generally enough to send him running for cover. If the need for formal dress were not bad enough, the necessity of mingling with a group of people who he normally wouldn't be seen dead with and worse, attempting to make polite conversation with them, tended to make Methos' blood run cold. Tonight there wasn't even any beer on offer to make the proceedings more palatable! Methos snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray by way of consolation.
The event Methos was so reluctantly attending was a formal reception to mark the opening of an exhibition of modern sculpture. MacLeod had apparently been given the tickets by a university colleague who found himself unable to attend at the last minute. Unfortunately, from Methos' perspective, he was currently availing himself of Mac's hospitality at the loft and had been the first person in the Highlander's sights when Mac came home with his prize.
Mac had promptly proceeded to enthuse about the prospect of attending the event. It seemed he liked nothing better than dressing up in his finest and mingling. As soon as MacLeod got to the part about having two tickets for the reception, though, Methos had sprawled more determinedly over the couch, concentrating singlemindedly on his beer and his book. It wasn't that the old Immortal didn't find the sight of Mac animatedly describing the art that would be on display a pleasing one. He did. However, Methos was well aware exactly where this sales pitch was heading - and he wasn't buying...
At least, that was what Methos had thought. That was before Mac had wheeled out the heavy guns, though. Sensing he didn't have the old Immortal's full attention Mac had perched beside Methos on the couch and smiled at him coaxingly. That alone wouldn't have been enough, Methos could handle MacLeod's smiles - just. Seeing he still wasn't getting through, the Highlander had then decided to play dirty. The full force of those big, brown eyes had then been trained on Methos, the dark lashes fluttering artfully for added effect. From that point the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Just one of those looks could have had Methos selling his soul to the very first bidder! Before he knew it the old Immortal had agreed to accompany Mac to the reception.
And so here he was. There were times, Methos reflected, when life really didn't play fair, no matter how many centuries you lived through. Methos sighed and took a sip from his fresh glass of champagne as he watched the flow of people around the exhibits. It promised to be a very long evening.
"You might at least try and look as if you're enjoying yourself." Methos started and turned at the sound of the voice. Duncan had finally gravitated back to his side. Mac had never quite strayed out of buzz range and, lost as he was in miserable contemplation, Methos hadn't noticed his approach.
"Mac, I told you, this really isn't my kind of thing..." said Methos apologetically.
"I know," admitted Duncan, "but I just hate coming to these things on my own."
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not better company," conceded Methos.
"Look, I know I railroaded you into this, but I do appreciate you coming with me. I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I buy you all the beer you can drink tomorrow evening?" suggested Mac with a grin.
Methos nodded thoughtfully, "Sounds fair, I'll hold you to that."
"Fine." Mac smiled and laid his hand briefly on Methos' arm to seal the bargain. He hoped the old man really wasn't too upset at having been coerced into this. Duncan was genuinely glad of his company. He was also still trying to get over the shock of the transformation that had been wrought on Methos by the simple expedient of dressing him in a stylish shirt and a tux! The scruffily dressed Immortal who habitually sprawled on Mac's couch had been magically spirited away and replaced by the unexpectedly elegant creature currently standing by MacLeod's side.
When Methos had first emerged from the bathroom at the loft clad in his impeccably tailored dark suit and pristine white shirt Duncan had simply stood and stared at him stupidly for several seconds. He had been quite unable to make his brain process the transformation. Mac was well aware that he looked good in a tux. The plain fact was that Methos looked better. The formal clothing just seemed to suit his lean form.
If Mac was honest with himself he had been harbouring less than platonic feelings for the old Immortal for some considerable time. He hadn't quite figured out what to do about that fact, but the lustful thoughts were still there, waiting to ambush the unwary Highlander. When Duncan saw Methos dressed to kill they had almost done so! He'd had to fight an almost irresistible urge to walk straight over to Methos and kiss him senseless.
And the oldest Immortal had known it. A distinctly knowing look had graced Methos' face as he watched Mac stare at him for just that fraction of a second too long. Methos had let the tableau hold for a moment more before clicking his fingers to catch the distracted Highlander's attention.
"What's the matter? Didn't you ever see a man in a suit before?" Methos had enquired smugly and Duncan had quickly pulled himself together before the old man took it into his head to tease him any more. Nevertheless, Methos had filed Mac's reaction away for future consideration. It had offered Methos a glimpse of possibilities he hadn't seriously entertained before, but was certainly far from averse to exploring.
Those possibilities were also very much on Duncan's mind, too. He had been wondering all evening what Methos had really thought when he realised the intent behind Mac's scrutiny earlier. He had reacted predictably enough with one of his typically smart comments, but did Methos just view it as a bit of a joke or was he open to anything more? He certainly hadn't seemed offended by Duncan's open-mouthed admiration.
An idea had been slowly forming in Duncan's mind as he wandered around looking at the exhibits. Now, glancing across at the Immortal beside him, Mac made a final, quick decision to put it into practice.
"Methos," he began in a rush, before he could change his mind, "there are some sculptures in the next room I think you might like."
"Oh?" Methos' reaction wasn't exactly encouraging, but Duncan persisted.
"Yeah, they're really quite - interesting," Mac coaxed.
"MacLeod, you don't have to try so hard." Methos shook his head ruefully. "You needn't feel guilty about dragging me along here. I knew what I was letting myself in for. Really..."
"No, I would like you to see these pieces," insisted Duncan. "I think they might be more to your taste..." He tugged lightly at Methos' arm to reinforce his request.
"OK, OK, anything for a quiet life!" Methos laughed softly as he unfolded his long frame from where he had been leaning against the wall. "Lead on, MacLeod!"
Mac shook his head, but smiled fondly as he worked his way carefully through the crowd of people, Methos following in his wake. The second room Mac brought them into was somewhat quieter and less crowded than the first and both Immortals took a moment to appreciate the respite. Then Duncan led Methos towards the group of pieces he wanted him to see.
|The old Immortal came to an abrupt halt, standing before the first of them. Duncan felt his cheeks colouring as Methos turned to him and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Neither of them spoke, however, as Methos began to walk slowly round each of the sculptures in turn. He took his time, his eyes tracing the flowing shapes of the intimately entwined figures. Occasionally Methos' gaze shifted to where Duncan stood watching him, but still he remained silent. Eventually Methos paused before one of the sculptures, his hazel eyes studying its contours consideringly.|
Finally, frustrated by the old man's lack of comment, Duncan walked over to him. He stood at Methos' side and joined him in his consideration of the piece of sculpture.
"Well?" Mac asked, more impatiently than he had intended. "What do you think of them?"
"Oh, I think they're definitely - 'interesting'," replied Methos coyly. He risked a quick sideways glance at Duncan and smiled at Mac's clearly evident frustration. Methos found it amusing and really quite endearing. Trust the boy scout to find the most tortuous way possible of going about things! Still, it was nevertheless gratifying to have certain questions answered. "So," Methos ventured, "you like them then, Mac?"
"What? Oh, yeah, the er... forms are abstract, but still..." Mac floundered for a moment, caught on the hop.
"'Interesting'?" supplied Methos innocently. "Yes, I think we already established that." Slowly Methos circled the piece which had apparently captured his attention. "It's really quite - sensual, don't you think?" he added thoughtfully.
Duncan started as Methos completed his circuit and came to a halt just behind him. The old Immortal's voice seemed to have dropped a register as he spoke and the velvety smooth tones wrapped around Duncan like a caress. To compound the effect he was having on Mac, as Methos asked his question he leaned in closer until his warm breath tickled Mac's ear. Duncan couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him at the ghost touch on his skin.
"Methos..." Mac whispered haltingly.
With a smile that showed his satisfaction at the Highlander's reaction Methos moved a fraction closer. It was enough to leave him lightly pressed up against Duncan's back. The warmth and strength of the younger Immortal felt good.
"If you were trying to tell me something, Mac, I believe you've made your point." With that Methos straightened up, stepping back far enough to break the contact with Duncan. As Methos directed his attention back to the sculpture Mac turned to look at him. The old Immortal projected an air of studied casualness as he continued. "The question is, I suppose, what now?"
Methos glanced quickly at the Highlander once more. Mac's eyes were glazed and a faint flush again coloured his cheeks. Methos laughed softly at the clear but unspoken answer to his question. The sound drew Mac's dark gaze to mesh with his own.
"Please, Methos, let's just get out of here," murmured Duncan helplessly.
"Of course, but I thought you were enjoying the reception." Methos' expression was all wide-eyed innocence.
Duncan gave a low growl of frustration and Methos paled visibly as the Highlander advanced on him with undoubted intent. "Mac, there's a time and a place for everything!" Methos hissed warningly.
"Then I suggest you stop talking and we leave now," grated Duncan. "Unless, of course, you want to make headlines in the local rag tomorrow!"
Methos needed no further encouragement. Quickly the two Immortals reclaimed their coats and headed out into the university grounds. Methos turned to lead the way to the car park, but it seemed Mac had other ideas.
Without warning Duncan grabbed the older Immortal's hand and pulled him away from the lights and noise of the main buildings. Several twists and turns of the pathway later, Mac found a dark, shadowed doorway that suited him. Abruptly he backed Methos inside and up against the wall. Then Mac pressed himself aggressively against the unresisting body of the stunned Immortal.
"Mac...?" Methos' voice was distinctly unsteady as Duncan's full weight came to rest on him. To say that the forcefulness of Mac's reaction was unexpected would have been a considerable understatement. Methos couldn't see much in the dark, but Mac's large eyes were fixed unblinkingly on him, almost luminous in their intensity. Methos felt his breathing suddenly speed up as one of Duncan's powerful thighs insinuated itself between his legs, pressing firmly against his groin.
"You are a goddamned unmitigated tease!!" growled Duncan. "You have been toying with me, pushing to see just how much you could get away with, practically from the day we first met! Well, you know what, Methos? Now it's payback time!"
"Wait a minute, looking at those sculptures wasn't my idea," protested Methos breathlessly.
"Details, my friend, mere details..." muttered Mac.
With that Duncan leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly over Methos'. The old Immortal whimpered and then, as the reality of what was being offered sank in, began to kiss back fiercely. Methos opened his mouth to Mac's tender assault, inviting Duncan's tongue to explore and stroking his own eagerly against it.
If the Highlander was surprised by the sudden intensity of Methos' response, he didn't show it. Duncan simply slid his arms under Methos' coat, pulling the old Immortal away from the wall and closer to him.
Still without breaking their kiss, Methos responded by wrapping one arm tightly about Mac's waist and grinding their hips firmly against one another. With his free hand Methos reached up to release Mac's hair from its clasp. As it fell forward to frame Duncan's face Methos dug his long fingers deep into the silken strands. Mac's beautiful hair had long been a source of wonder and temptation to Methos. Now he revelled in his new-found freedom to touch and caress it.
Panting hard, the two Immortals were finally forced to draw apart. They gulped in deep lungfuls of air, chests heaving. Their arms remained firmly wrapped around one another, though, hands caressing through the barrier of their clothes.
"That was - unexpected," observed Methos when his breathing had calmed enough for him to speak. His fingers were still absently toying with strands of Mac's hair and the Highlander leaned into the touch like a contented cat.
"Mmmm, but long overdue I think," replied Duncan huskily. "Methos, I meant what I said..."
"About me being a tease?" enquired Methos archly. "Nice to know I haven't lost my touch!"
"Be serious!" chided Duncan. "I meant that I've wanted to do that for a long time."
"And I had rather hoped you'd do it somewhat sooner than this," admitted Methos. "I didn't think I could compete with Amanda and your other - feminine - companions, though," he added cautiously.
"I was tempted," said Duncan softly. He freed one hand to stroke it gently down the sharp planes of Methos' cheek. His thumb brushed across the old Immortal's bruised lips lightly.
"But..." Methos prompted.
"I couldn't figure out what a 5000 year old man could possibly see in a kid like me." Mac looked more than a little embarrassed at the admission. He wasn't usually given to that kind of uncertainty.
Methos shook his head and smiled fondly at Duncan. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Dear Gods, what a pair we are! I, um, don't suppose you'd care to ahh... start making up for lost time, would you?" The old Immortal thrust his narrow hips suggestively.
"Here?!" Mac gaped at him, scandalised.
"Have you got any better suggestions?" Methos raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I don't know about you, Mac, but I'm damned sure I'm not capable of walking anywhere else just at the moment."
Duncan swallowed hard. Methos was right. The idea of making his way back to the car and then driving to the loft in his current condition was less than appealing. And, in truth, the chances of their being discovered here were pretty slim. Duncan met Methos' eyes and smiled.
"Here it is then..." Mac whispered huskily.
In a heartbeat their lips met in another searing kiss. The mingled taste of champagne and 5000 year old Immortal was quite delicious, Mac decided, as his tongue explored the depths of Methos' mouth.
Methos slid both his hands between their close-pressed bodies. First he loosened Mac's tie and then his skilful fingers worked their way down, unfastening the buttons of Duncan's dress shirt. Pushing the material out of the way, Methos pressed his palms against the firm contours of Mac's chest. He could feel the play of muscles under the skin as Mac arched into his touch.
The soft dusting of hair drew Methos' fingers as he moved to map every inch of Mac's warm flesh. Finally Methos let his fingertips drift to Mac's nipples. At first he caressed them lightly, but as they tightened he increased the pressure of his touch. When Methos began to roll the hard nubs firmly between his fingers Duncan gasped. He snatched his mouth away from Methos', arching his neck back with a sharp hiss of pleasure.
Taking swift advantage of the opportunity this presented, Methos leaned forward and began to lay a trail of kisses along Duncan's jaw and down his neck to the hollow of his throat. Methos opened his senses, imprinting the salt taste of Duncan's skin and his musky scent firmly in his memory. He wanted to remember every moment, every nuance of this experience.
Mac brought one hand up to cup the back of Methos' head, gently encouraging his exploration. The old man certainly had an indecently talented mouth! Duncan let his fingers caress the silky spikes of Methos' close-cropped hair. Somehow he hadn't expected it to feel so soft to the touch.
Methos was still slowly working his way downwards. His mouth remapped territory already explored by the old Immortal's hands. Methos paused to taste the sweetness of Mac's nipples, grazing them with his teeth and then softly suckling them to soothe away the hurt. Mac continued to respond enthusiastically and Methos revelled in his soft, uninhibited moans and mindless words of endearment.
Drawn inexorably to his prize, Methos sank to his knees in front of Duncan, heedless of the dirt clinging to his suit as a result. Methos steadied the restless hips, turning his cheek to lay it against the heated, cloth-covered flesh at Mac's groin. The scent of Duncan's arousal made his heart pound faster and Methos pressed a kiss against the straining fabric. A helpless whimper made him look up.
Duncan had braced himself with his hands flat against the wall at Methos' back. The tension in Mac's arms was clearly visible and fine tremors were running along the bared muscles of his chest. Mac's forehead rested against the cool stone and he looked down at Methos pleadingly.
"Methos, please," he begged, "I want this. Please don't make me wait."
The old Immortal smiled at Duncan encouragingly. Without a word Methos slid his hands to the fastening of Mac's trousers. Carefully he opened the button and eased the zip down. A groan of relief greeted his actions and Methos quickly slipped the trousers off Mac's hips, letting them fall to pool at his ankles.
The only barrier remaining was Mac's briefs and equally carefully Methos hooked his fingers into the waistband. He smiled to see the dampness of Duncan's pre-come that was rapidly turning the front of the material transparent. Methos could hardly wait to taste that sweetness and he wasted no further time in freeing Mac from the final constraint.
"Methos..." The way Duncan breathed his name was almost enough to send the old Immortal over the edge. Methos drew in several ragged breaths to calm himself. The action merely made him even more aware of the deep scent of Mac's arousal.
With care Methos reached to cup one hand around the heavy length of Mac's cock. The hot, damp flesh filled his palm satisfyingly and Methos closed his fingers over it possessively. He began a firm, steady pressure against the thick shaft, rewarded by soft groans of pleasure from Duncan. With gentle fingers Methos eased the sensitive head free of its protective hood of skin. He rubbed lightly with his thumb, spreading the slick moisture over the tip.
Then Methos could no longer resist. He bent forward and slid Mac's penis into the warm haven of his mouth. Methos closed his lips around the firm flesh, tasting it and caressing along its length with slow strokes of his tongue.
Mac gasped at the sensation of being engulfed by the hot wetness of Methos' mouth. He stared down at the intently bent head, hardly able to believe that it was Methos bringing him this incredible pleasure. Mac could feel the pressure building in him and he dropped one hand to lightly touch Methos' shoulder, warning him.
The old Immortal released Duncan, looking up at him in concern. Mac couldn't see Methos' face clearly in their shadowy refuge, but he could see the expressive eyes were narrowed in question.
"What's wrong, Mac?" Methos asked softly. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Duncan smiled back at him reassuringly. "I was only trying to tell you... Well, I'm close," Mac added, embarrassed.
"I know." There was fond amusement in Methos' tone. "Whatever you need, Mac. It's fine by me." Methos reached up and squeezed the broad hand resting on his shoulder briefly. Then he turned back to his task.
Mac felt the incredible warmth surround his length once again. The soft lips glided over his cock, drawing him closer to the brink. Then, to Duncan's amazement, Methos' hands were gripping his hips, gently encouraging him to thrust. Mac lost himself then, giving himself over to the pleasure of fucking that perfect, talented mouth.
In his turn, Methos closed his eyes and absorbed the sensation of Duncan MacLeod's exquisite cock sliding repeatedly between his lips. Finally, Methos felt Mac tense and thrust deep into his throat. Eagerly the old Immortal accepted the warm fluid that filled his mouth. Methos savoured Mac's taste, determined to imprint it on his memory along with every other aspect of this experience. Carefully Methos suckled at Mac's softening flesh until he felt the body above him relax.
Then Methos released the now lax penis and quickly pushed himself upright. Once on his feet he drew Duncan's unresisting body into his arms, enfolding him in a protective embrace. Methos held the Highlander until Mac regained his scattered wits and then loosened his hold on him just a little.
In return Duncan caught Methos' face between his broad palms and treated him to a passionate but tender kiss that almost had Methos' knees buckling under him.
"Thank you! Dear God, Methos, thank you!" murmured Duncan when he finally drew back.
"Sounds like I did something right," teased Methos. He kept his tone deliberately light, still somewhat taken aback by the intensity of Mac's reaction.
"Aye, I'd say you did at that," agreed Duncan, the Scots burr giving his voice a musical lilt. He stroked Methos' cheek lightly, holding the suddenly evasive hazel eyes with his own dark gaze. "Not regretting the impulse, are you?" he asked softly.
"Do you think that?" Methos deftly avoided the question.
"You're beginning to make me wonder," admitted Mac slowly, the sadness evident in his tone.
"No, I don't regret it, Mac." Methos sighed. "I'm only afraid that because of it you might expect more of me than I'm capable of giving."
It was a rare attempt at complete honesty by the old Immortal and Duncan recognised it as such. Mac decided he should take it as a good sign. He brushed one broad fingertip across Methos' lips, as if trying to coax a smile from him.
"Only what you're prepared to give, Methos," he replied seriously. "Just promise me one thing - say you won't disappear without a trace because you think I'll try to hold you to something if you stay. If friendship is all you want..."
Methos shook his head, silencing the Highlander. "That isn't what I meant, Mac." He smiled slightly. "Of course I want your friendship. And if we can have something more as well... I think it's what we've both hoped for, isn't it? So, yes, I promise I won't just run out on you without a word. What I can't promise is that I won't need to go away sometimes. I'm used to having my own space. I really don't do commitment very well, Mac. Though heaven knows I've had enough practice over the years. It's not something to be proud of, but that's the way I am. Can you deal with this, on those terms?"
"Yeah, I can cope with that," Mac agreed with an affectionate grin. For just a moment he found himself thinking of his on and off relationship with Amanda. Though, if he was honest, Duncan hoped Methos might be a somewhat more constant presence in his life than that. "Who knows," Mac added absently, "maybe we'll both surprise ourselves."
"Maybe," conceded Methos rather more doubtfully. "Now, before anyone catches us sneaking around here in the dark I should get you presentable again." Methos began to reach down to put Duncan's clothing to rights, but Mac caught hold of his wrists and stopped him.
"Aren't we forgetting something here?" Duncan asked gently.
"I don't think so..." Methos began. His words trailed off in a sharp gasp as Mac's hand pressed firmly against the front of Methos' trousers.
"You don't think so, hm?" Mac's eyes glittered in the faint moonlight. "Well, I beg to differ. And I seem to recall it was you who decided against going back to the loft in the first place."
"My mistake," gasped Methos as Duncan's hand stubbornly refused to move from its provocative resting place.
"Perhaps, but I'm not letting you out of here quite yet..." insisted Duncan. "I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to first."
Mac easily pressed Methos back against the wall. He held him in place with one broad palm laid squarely in the middle of the old Immortal's chest. Mac's other hand eased open the fastening of Methos' trousers, working the zip down until he could slide his fingers inside. Duncan was surprised to encounter warm flesh at once and he glanced at Methos in surprise.
The old man shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, underwear is a pretty modern invention, MacLeod," he said lightly. "Sometimes I forget..."
Duncan laughed. Dipping his head he kissed Methos softly on the lips. "Well, it makes my job that much easier," he teased as he drew back.
Without further ado Duncan pushed the dark material down Methos' slender hips. As soon as it no longer hindered him, Mac captured Methos' freed erection in his hands, exploring the smooth length.
Methos made his appreciation clear with soft moans and whispered words of encouragement. He thrust into the snug fingers that encircled his cock, letting the pleasure build. It felt good, but suddenly it simply wasn't enough. Methos reached down, stilling the movement of Mac's hands.
"What is it? What's wrong, Methos?" Mac asked.
"Nothing's wrong... Mac, I -" Methos paused, suddenly afraid of asking for what he desperately wanted.
"Tell me, Methos," Duncan insisted.
"Mac... Duncan, I want to be inside you - now." The changeable eyes were steady on Mac's, adding their plea.
"It's what you want?" Mac repeated steadily.
"Yes," breathed Methos. "More than you can possibly imagine. Please..."
Duncan silenced Methos with a long, probing kiss. When he released the older Immortal Mac shrugged quickly out of his long coat. Then he turned and braced himself against the wall, also kicking free of the trousers and underwear which still hobbled him.
"Thank you," Methos whispered, his lips brushing Mac's ear.
Methos stepped out of his own trousers and then pressed close against Duncan's back. His dark coat swung forward to cover both of them, keeping them from the chill of the air. Methos let his hands move down to knead Duncan's buttocks, long fingers working the smooth skin. Slowly the caresses became more sensual and the questing fingers dipped between Mac's cheeks to brush the sensitive opening.
As Duncan became more relaxed under his ministrations Methos skimmed his fingers over the tip of his own cock, gathering the moisture there. Returning to the entrance of Mac's body Methos spread the sticky fluid over the puckered ring, taking his time. Finally Methos breached the tight muscles with a single fingertip. Patiently he stretched the opening, sliding his finger deeper and eventually adding a second.
Mac thrust back against the intrusion, eager for a deeper penetration. He angled his hips and finally managed to coax the tip of Methos' finger where he wanted it. Duncan moaned out his pleasure at the intimate touch.
With a smile Methos carefully withdrew his fingers. There was little doubt Mac was ready and eager for more. Quickly Methos slicked his cock with his own saliva - not ideal, but serviceable. Then he pressed the tip slowly against Mac's opening. The muscles relaxed under the steady pressure and Methos found himself sliding into the tight warmth of Mac's body.
Both men groaned at the sudden flood of sensations. Methos continued his thrust until he was sheathed as deeply inside Duncan as he could go. It felt wonderful and Methos held still for a moment, appreciating the simple joy of possessing Mac this way.
Duncan, however, was driven by other imperatives. He wanted Methos to move. The feeling of being filled by the other Immortal was amazing, but he wanted more. Mac rocked his hips experimentally and squeezed his muscles around Methos' cock.
Methos quickly got the message and began a steady rhythm, drawing almost all the way out of Mac's powerful body and then driving firmly back in. As he thrust, Methos buried his face in the silken curtain of Mac's hair. He inhaled deeply, surrounding himself with the clean scent that was so distinctively Duncan. Possessively Methos moved his slender hands over Mac's chest and flanks, branding the feeling of Mac's body into his skin.
For Duncan the feeling of being claimed, possessed so completely, was intoxicating. The lithe figure pressed so closely against him could appear deceptively slight at times. There was no doubting Methos' strength now, though, as he drew them both towards a shattering climax.
Methos found his release first, his hands clenching on Mac's hips hard enough to bruise. Violent tremors shook the old Immortal as he filled Duncan with his warmth. The intensity of Methos' final thrusts was enough to bring Mac to a second, slightly less spectacular orgasm too.
As the spasms slowly subsided Methos collapsed against the welcome solidity of Duncan's broad back. It was some moments before he was capable of straightening and carefully easing his softened cock from Mac's body. Still breathing unsteadily Methos dragged a shaky hand through his sweat-damp hair.
"Mac?" he ventured softly. "You all right there?"
"Yeah, fine," Duncan assured Methos, equally shakily. "You?"
"Uh huh," Methos agreed. He drew in another breath of the cool night air. "Just one thing..."
"Yeah?" Mac slowly turned to face the other Immortal.
"Next time we do something like this, please can it be somewhere there's a bed," begged Methos.
Duncan could only laugh at the expression on the oldest Immortal's face. He hugged Methos to him warmly. It felt very good to be able to do it. And better yet when Methos returned the hug.
"Yeah, in deference to your old bones, I promise," Mac teased. Even as he said it, though, Duncan found himself hoping that the next time would not be too far in the future.
Methos swatted at Duncan in mock irritation. "Not so much of the old," he growled. "I prefer to think of myself as maturing nicely - like a vintage wine."
"Whatever," agreed Mac tiredly. "Anyway, I don't know about you, but right now I could use a long, hot shower and several very cold beers."
"Hm, most sensible thing you've said all night," muttered Methos as he sorted through their discarded clothing for his trousers.
Five minutes later two somewhat dishevelled Immortals emerged from the shadows and headed in search of their car. And if Watcher records rather misleadingly indicated that the pair had apparently been involved in some sort of minor skirmish - evidently not a full-blown challenge as no Quickening was observed - it was probably wise not to correct the error.
Return to Yavanna's Realm archive