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 September 1999.

With thanks to Margaret for reading.


There were times when the world's oldest Immortal hated himself for his own gullibility. He especially disliked it when he fell for the tried and trusted 'come on, Methos, it'll be fun' line. And when the aforementioned line came from Duncan MacLeod and was backed up by the full pouting lips and big brown puppy dog eyes routine Methos knew he definitely ought to know better. But, despite protestations to the contrary, how often had he managed to say no to Mac in the time he'd known him? Suffice to say, Methos didn't even need all the fingers of one hand to work that one out.

All of which added up to the reason why Methos was currently standing in the middle of a forest several hours drive outside of Seacouver watching Duncan unload camping gear from the back of his truck.

"Well the T-bird won't hold all the gear we'll need," Duncan had pointed out, not unreasonably.

"So the only reason you're dragging me along on this back to nature kick of yours is because you need the transport?" Methos had responded, distinctly miffed. "Fine, here's the keys. Have a nice time communing with the trees or whatever it is you're planning on doing! I'll keep an eye on the loft for you while you're gone."

"Methos, I asked you to come with me because I thought you might like to get out of town for a few days and because I wanted your company," Duncan had replied placatingly - and then he had delivered the killer blow... Turning his best kicked puppy gaze on the oldest Immortal he had added, "Besides, it'll be fun."

With a sigh Methos watched Duncan wrestle with the awkward bulk of the tent. The Highlander had the damnedest ideas of what constituted fun. Methos had spent too many years sleeping outside or in uncomfortable, primitive dwellings because that was all that was available to him. Now he liked his creature comforts - a soft bed, a proper roof over his head and indoor plumbing. No, camping definitely didn't figure high up on his list of fun things to do.

Mac paused in his efforts to unload the truck and turned to look at his silent companion. Methos had spent most of the journey complaining about how overrated the great outdoors was. He'd followed that up with a petulant enquiry as to what was wrong with spending the weekend at a luxury hotel with soft, cosy beds, a jacuzzi and as much beer as they could drink, anyway. But since they'd arrived at their destination he'd barely said two words. Mac hoped Methos would just relax and enjoy the trip once they had everything unpacked and set up.

He had wanted to spend some time with the old Immortal away from the distractions of Seacouver. Mac still had hopes of getting their friendship back on its old, easy footing. He had found he missed their relaxed companionship after the mess with the Horsemen and knew most of the blame for its loss was on his side. Other, even more painful events had also intervened, but over the months since the incident with Liam O'Rourke in Paris things had slowly seemed to be getting back on an even keel. When Methos had turned up at the loft unannounced about a week ago it had been like the old days and Mac had been only too glad to have the other Immortal crashing on his couch again. He'd really missed the casual way Methos used to appear on his doorstep, always sure of his welcome.

Mac wasn't certain quite what had prompted him to suggest the camping trip a few days into Methos' stay. Nevertheless, he'd been glad when Methos had finally agreed to come with him. He'd started having a few second thoughts, though, when Methos began his litany of complaints on the journey here. Since their arrival at the spot Duncan had chosen - a large clearing close to a lively mountain-fed stream - Methos had shown no inclination to help with setting up their camp-site. If he was going to remain this uncommunicative Mac had the feeling it was going to be a very long and trying weekend!

"Hey, Methos!" Duncan called, unwilling to let the old Immortal sulk any longer. "Are you going to stand there all day or is there a chance you just might consider giving me a hand here?"

"All right, MacLeod, what do you want me to do?" Methos grumbled.

"Well, unless you want to sleep out in the open tonight I suggest you help me put this tent up," replied Duncan mildly.

Methos gave a long-suffering sigh and moved to help Mac assemble their two man tent. In all honesty, for a tent, it wasn't bad, the old Immortal had to admit. It was quite large - with an awning - and would easily accommodate the two thickly-padded sleeping bags Mac had brought. Methos was also pleased to note that the Highlander had brought a proper camping stove - none of that tedious rubbing two sticks together nonsense on this trip! Of course, the piece de resistance was the large supply of beer Methos himself had packed in the back of the truck. It would have been just like Mac to forget the real essentials!

By the time the camp-site was properly set up the shadows were beginning to lengthen and the air was cooling. Methos prowled around, poking through their supplies to see what was on the menu.

"You cooking?" he asked as Mac came up behind him to see what he was doing.

"Apparently," agreed Mac with a grin. He was glad to see Methos was talking to him again. "Can I trust you to take care of the drinks?"

"Always!" Methos returned the smile. "Beer?" he offered.

"Yeah, please," Mac replied as he lit the stove and then went down to the stream for a pan of water to cook some of the pasta he'd brought in.

Gratefully Mac accepted the bottle of beer Methos had dug out of the cool box and took a long swallow from it. He watched the other Immortal as he nursed his own bottle. Methos seemed to have relaxed a little now. He'd earlier spent a good half hour grousing yet again about the lack of facilities and warning Mac of dire consequences if he got mosquito bites anywhere important.

Mac had listened to the complaints tolerantly - at least Methos was still here and hadn't driven off in a sulk. The old man did like his creature comforts, it was true, but equally Methos was the one who'd happily hiked his way to Katmandu - not exactly a place noted for its luxury accommodation. So, he obviously wasn't averse to roughing it from time to time. Mac was of the opinion that Methos just liked to complain for the sake of appearances. He was sure that once the old Immortal got a few beers inside him he'd mellow out and enjoy the trip.

At least, Duncan hoped so. He wanted to spend some more time with Methos and he'd rather not do it arguing! They'd spent too much of the past couple of years estranged from one another and Mac wanted to be sure all that was behind them. And perhaps, if they were alone together, he might finally have the chance to explore another facet of their relationship. The one which had glittered with such possibilities from their very first meeting, but which seemed to have evolved into a series of missed opportunities. The attraction had always been there - on both sides, Mac was certain - but the time had never been right... until now, perhaps.

He started as he realised Methos was watching him curiously.

"Penny for them?" enquired the old Immortal.

"What? Oh, sorry... Nothing profound, I was miles away," said Duncan quickly.

"Obviously. Incidentally, you need some more water in there," added Methos critically, peering into the pan of pasta. "While you were woolgathering it's nearly boiled dry."

"Thank you for your invaluable advice, Mrs Beaton." Mac glowered at the other Immortal. "I don't suppose you'd care to actually do something useful like fetch me some."

Methos grinned, tossing Mac a quick salute and heading down to the stream with a water bottle. He filled it and brought it back to Duncan, exchanging it for a fresh beer. After a few minutes silence while Mac salvaged their dinner Methos gestured to their surroundings with his bottle.

"So, are we fulfilling your boy scout fantasies this weekend, Mac?" he enquired teasingly. "All boys together in the great outdoors!"

"You have a very strange sense of humour, Methos," observed Mac dryly. "And you and Amanda dreamed up this whole boy scout thing. It was nothing to do with me!"

"Oh, you mean I won't get to see you in your uniform, then?" asked Methos, pouting. "You do realise that was the only reason I was indulging you and coming along on this trip, MacLeod."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Mac shook his head.

Methos sighed in mock sadness. "Ah well, but if you ever need someone to practise your knots on..." he added with a definite leer.

"I'll bear that in mind," Mac said hurriedly, wondering if he was imagining the gleam in the old man's eyes. And if he wasn't... Did it signify what he thought it did? Was Methos aware of his hidden agenda for the weekend? If so, it appeared he might not be entirely averse to the idea.

Further consideration of the subject had to be postponed as the pasta was ready to eat and Mac had to turn his attention to the remaining preparations for their meal. Considering the near disaster with the water, both men agreed the end result was surprisingly palatable. Methos even helped Duncan to clear up after they had eaten with minimal complaints.

The two Immortals sat outside for a while longer, drinking beer in companionable silence. The lanterns Mac had lit created a circle of light in front of the tent, keeping the darkness of the forest at bay. Somehow Methos had managed a fair approximation of his usual sprawl in the folding canvas chair he occupied. His eyes were closed and, but for the fact that he occasionally raised the bottle he held to his lips and drank from it, he might have been asleep.

Mac watched the older Immortal from under lowered lids, grateful that Methos finally seemed to have surrendered to the relaxed mood of their surroundings. He also found himself taking the opportunity to admire the lean lines of Methos' frame and the smooth planes of his face. Whatever troubles their friendship had gone through, his fascination with the other Immortal was still there, Mac had to admit. The only question now was whether or not he did anything about it. They'd been dancing around the attraction for so long that the edge of tension between them had become somehow comfortable. If they acted on it, how would it change things between them? What if it didn't work out? Mac sighed. Would it be better to just leave things the way they were? It had taken long enough to repair the rift in their friendship last time.

Methos' long lashes lifted at the sound of Duncan's sigh. He glanced across at the Highlander, who seemed to be in the clutches of a major brood. So much for a relaxing get away from it all break!

"Stop thinking so hard, Mac, it's tiring me out just watching you," he teased gently.

"Hm?" Duncan looked momentarily startled, as if he'd forgotten he had company. "Oh, sorry!" He grinned apologetically. "D'you want another beer or shall we turn in?"

"Well, if you're serious about wanting to do a twenty mile hike tomorrow I suppose an early night is in order," Methos decided. Duncan had sprung that little detail on him over dinner.

Mac snorted. "All this comfortable living has made you lazy, Methos. The walk'll do you good."

"I can outwalk you any day, Highlander," insisted Methos. "I'm built for stamina. You, on the other hand..."

"We'll see," interrupted Mac with a grin. "You talk a good fight, old man!" Duncan laid just the faintest stress on the word 'old'.

Methos glared at Mac for a moment and then got up and stalked into the tent. He emerged with a towel and his washbag in hand and headed for the stream without another word. Some comments simply didn't deserve to be dignified with a response!

Mac grinned at the old Immortal's retreating back. It wasn't often he rendered Methos speechless and he savoured his triumph. Built for stamina indeed! Mac grabbed his own wash things from the tent and followed Methos down to the edge of the stream. The other Immortal had already stripped off his sweatshirt to wash in the chill water. As Mac pulled his own sweater over his head he sneaked a glance at the pale, smooth-skinned figure beside him. An unexpected jolt of arousal shot through him as Mac got a rare chance to see Methos out of his habitual baggy clothes. In the rising moonlight the old Immortal looked like a living work of art, marble made flesh. Hurriedly Mac dragged his attention away from the other man before Methos caught him staring. Mac was grateful for the icy chill of the water as he splashed it on his overheated face.

Sitting back on his heels, Methos towelled his tingling skin dry. He wasn't generally an advocate of cold showers, but unless he was a long way wide of the mark it certainly looked like Mac was in need of one. Methos hid the smile this thought brought to his lips in the folds of his towel. So, it seemed the boy scout did have an ulterior motive for this camping trip after all. It was well past time in Methos' estimation. He decided to say nothing, though, and see how Duncan approached the subject. Nevertheless, Methos felt a pleasant anticipation settle over him as he climbed to his feet and headed back to the tent.

Duncan was more than a little relieved when Methos left. He squirmed uncomfortably, trying to relieve the pressure from his suddenly too tight jeans. The temptation to take his not so little problem in hand was considerable, but Methos wasn't very far away and this certainly wasn't how Duncan had envisaged approaching the other Immortal. Somehow, 'excuse me for jacking off, but the thought of getting you naked has given me a hard on' didn't strike Duncan as the best opening to a seduction! Gritting his teeth he splashed his torso with more of the icy water and as his skin chilled he felt his ardour cooling too. By the time he'd finished his ablutions Duncan felt comfortable enough to face Methos.

As it happened he needn't have worried. When Mac returned to the tent the old Immortal was already snuggled into his sleeping bag with his eyes closed in sleep. Very little of Methos was visible but the close-cropped cap of dark hair and the tip of his nose. Mac smiled at the sight of him. Methos did so hate to be cold!

Mac quickly checked the camp was secure and then closed the tent flap behind him. He clambered into his own sleeping bag and switched off the remaining light. In the dark Mac could hear the other Immortal's steady breathing. Content to have Methos near he quickly fell asleep.


Early the following morning Mac was the first of the two Immortals to wake. Not that that was any surprise to him. Methos was definitely not a morning person. Indeed, the other Immortal was still burrowed deep into his sleeping bag, snoring softly. Mac crawled out of the pleasant cocoon of his own sleeping bag and shivered in the chill air. He grabbed a fresh sweater and pulled it over his head quickly. He found the rest of his clothes and pulled them on too. By the time Mac had finished dressing Methos still showed no sign of stirring. Mac shook his head and went outside to start some coffee brewing.

The air was clear and the sun was shining down through the trees as Mac headed down to the stream. He splashed water on his face first, shivering again at its chill bite. Then he filled a pan and took it back to the stove. While the water heated Mac combed the tangles out of his hair - now grown back to its old length - and pulled it back from his face, securing it with a clasp.

By the time the coffee was brewed and Mac had made a start on breakfast the sun had started to warm the air. Time to wake sleeping beauty, Mac thought with a grin. He half wished he had the nerve to do it the traditional way - with a kiss - but uncertain of Methos' reaction he decided it was safer to stick to coffee. He filled a mug to the brim and ducked back inside the tent, pulling the flap aside to let the sunlight in. An irritated squawk greeted him as the light shone in Methos' eyes.

"Good morning!" Duncan announced cheerfully as Methos tried to burrow deeper into his sleeping bag.

"Bloody hell, MacLeod, are you some kind of sadist?" came the irritated reply. Methos slowly emerged from his cocoon, his hair sticking up around his head like a dark halo. "That had better be coffee," he added as he spied the mug in Mac's hand.

"It is," said Mac with a smug smile. "I know better than to try and wake you without it!" He handed it over and watched as Methos took a long swallow of the scalding liquid. "Breakfast is nearly ready," he added. "Oh, and it's a lovely day for our walk." He retreated quickly as Methos hurled his pillow in Mac's direction.

With a sigh Methos gave in to the inevitable and climbed out of his sleeping bag. He rummaged in his duffel and found a clean sweatshirt. He dressed quickly and followed his nose to where Mac was putting the finishing touches to scrambled eggs. Still sipping his coffee Methos gratefully accepted the plate Mac offered him.

They took their time over breakfast, drinking more coffee and enjoying the slow warming of the air. Eventually Mac broached the subject of their walk again and pulled out a map to show Methos the route he had planned. It was quite a long hike, but relatively flat, following the path of the stream for some distance. Grudgingly Methos agreed it should make for an enjoyable walk.

The two Immortals tidied up and secured their camp-site and packed some supplies for the day to carry with them. It was mid-morning by the time they finally set out. Duncan was pleased to see that Methos actually did seem to be enjoying himself now he'd done with his complaints. They walked along, keeping pace with one another easily. They swapped stories of previous hiking trips, each trying to outdo the other with tales of the exotic locations they'd visited.

At lunch time they stopped for a while to eat, and drink the beers Methos had predictably packed. By the time they were ready to go on, though, things had taken a turn for the worse. Dark clouds had begun to roll in and it rapidly grew cooler as the sun disappeared. Methos regarded the darkening sky balefully.

"Unless I'm much mistaken, Mac, we're in for a storm."

Watching the speed with which the clouds were building up Duncan could only agree with him. "We'd better head back," he suggested.

"We'll never make it back before it starts raining," predicted Methos gloomily.

"We might," said Mac hopefully as they hastily began to retrace their steps.
Methos snorted disdainfully at his optimism. All too soon the old Immortal's scepticism was proved to be well founded. At first it was only a light drizzle, but long before they had reached their camp the heavens opened. The two Immortals trudged through the downpour disconsolately, their clothing no match for the heavy rain.

"Remind me again how I let you talk me into this," Methos muttered as a cascade of raindrops dripped from the end of his nose. He glared across at Mac whose long hair was now plastered in rat's tails down his neck.

Mac tried to make the best of it. "It's not so bad, Methos. A bit of rain never did anyone any harm."

Methos glared at him even more sharply. "Mac, I am cold; I am wet; and right now I am thoroughly pissed off. That's harm enough in my book!"

"Maybe the storm will blow over," said Mac as brightly as he could manage with cold, wet clothes clinging to his body and an irritated Immortal stomping along at his side. This was hardly the opportunity for a seduction that he'd been hoping for today!

"You still haven't told me how the hell I let you drag me out here, miles from civilisation," complained Methos. "I must have been mad! Even the tent was better than this."

"I thought you'd enjoy the walk. I didn't know the weather was going to turn like this. There was nothing on the forecast." Duncan sighed. "I'm sorry today's turned into such a disaster."

Methos shook his head, sending an extra flurry of raindrops flying from his sopping wet hair. "Oh, quit the puppy dog eyes, Mac. I know it's not your fault. I just hate the rain. There's nothing worse than squelching around in wet clothes."

"'Puppy dog eyes'?" Mac looked at Methos indignantly.

"Yeah, that look you get when you want someone to do something, or you're trying to make them feel guilty. It's just like a kicked puppy." Methos grinned. "Doesn't work on me, anyway," he insisted, blatantly ignoring the fact that it was precisely that look which had sent him on this trip in the first place. "Might work on Amanda, or even Joe, but I'm immune."

"Liar!" retorted Mac, forgetting his initial indignation. It would, after all, have been hypocritical of him to deny that he occasionally used his - charms to get his own way.

"I beg your pardon?" Methos spluttered, staring at Mac.

"I think you're forgetting something here, Methos," Duncan reminded him.


"My 'puppy dog eyes' as you so quaintly put it worked when I wanted you to help out Robert and Gina that time."

"Ah, so you admit you do it deliberately," crowed Methos triumphantly. "But that situation was entirely different."

"How?" asked Mac, pushing soggy strands of hair off his face.

"I was getting something out of that," said Methos defensively.

"Oh yeah, my barge - which you didn't even really want," retorted Duncan sarcastically.

Methos shrugged off-handedly. "It was the principle of the thing. Which still doesn't get us away from the fact that I am currently freezing my bum off in the middle of nowhere in a torrential downpour, thanks to you!"

"OK, so what can I offer you by way of compensation this time, then?" Mac sighed.

"Oh, I see, it's bribery now, is it?" Methos looked askance at his bedraggled companion. "Well, I think you owe me big time for all this discomfort..."


"So I'll think about it and let you know." Methos grinned in spite of himself at the dubious look on Duncan's face. "Don't worry, it'll be something you can afford."

"Oh good..." muttered Mac as he put his head down and trudged on through the driving rain.

By the time they arrived back at their camp both Immortals were soaked to the skin and freezing cold. And the rain still showed no sign of letting up. They hurriedly piled into the tent, sealing the storm flap behind them. Mac lit the lanterns as Methos dug into his things for a towel.

The old Immortal wasted no time in beginning to strip off his wet clothes. He was shivering and muttering obscure curses under his breath as the sodden cloth proved uncooperative.

Mac had pulled off his own sweater and tossed it into a corner of the tent. He freed his hair from its clasp and began to towel the water from it. It had been steadily dripping cold drops down the back of his neck and the feeling of it was distinctly unpleasant. Mac bent to retrieve a second towel to dry his clammy skin, but as he straightened up he was distracted by the sight of Methos.

The other Immortal had finally won his battle with his soggy clothes and was standing by his sleeping bag utterly naked. He had his face buried in his towel, though, so he missed the stunned expression which crossed Mac's face.

The Highlander tried not to stare, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen Methos stripped down to just boxer shorts a few times and that sight had been enough to fuel more than a few of Duncan's fantasies. Seeing Methos completely nude was something else again. Mac felt his body react, sending an abrupt rush of heat to his groin. He swallowed hard, but still couldn't pull his gaze away from that perfect, slender form. Mac was still standing transfixed when Methos raised his face from the towel.

Hazel eyes, glittering with faint amusement, met suddenly flustered dark orbs.

"If all you wanted was a chance to see me naked you only had to ask," said Methos, his voice deep and inviting. "You didn't have to strand us in the middle of nowhere in the rain."

Duncan dropped his gaze, embarrassed at having been caught out by Methos. He was still looking down when the other Immortal took the scant number of steps required to cross the tent. A set of nimble fingers suddenly appeared in his field of vision, working at the fastening of his jeans.

"Methos, wait..." he said quickly.

"Mac, if you don't get out of these wet clothes you'll freeze to bloody death," retorted Methos in exasperation. "And isn't this what the whole get away from it all thing was about?" he added more gently. "The chance for you to have your wicked way with me away from anyone else's prying eyes?"

"You knew?" Mac looked up and frowned.

"Christ, Mac, you've been staring at me like I was a ten course banquet and you were starving every time you thought I wasn't looking!" Methos grinned. "Now, do these jeans come off or were you going for the shrink-to-fit look?"

Still a little reluctantly, Duncan let Methos finish unzipping the soaked jeans. The soggy denim had chilled his skin and the old Immortal's hands felt wonderfully warm as they pushed the jeans down Mac's legs. The damp cotton briefs quickly followed and Methos stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"I think I just worked out how you can repay me for getting me soaked," murmured Methos huskily.

"Oh?" Mac swallowed hard as Methos took a step closer.

"Oh yes," agreed Methos as he reached out and threaded his long fingers into the heavy fall of Duncan's wet hair. He used the grip to pull the other man nearer to him.

Methos' skin was still chilled from the rain, but it rapidly warmed as Mac's body pressed close to him. Carefully, Methos tilted Mac's head and then leaned in for a kiss. The tip of his tongue stroked against Duncan's lips, seeking entrance. With a stifled groan Mac opened to him and Methos deepened the kiss. He explored the warm depths of Mac's mouth, tasting the sweetness of him.

And Duncan did not remain passive either. His hands learned the smooth contours of the old Immortal's back. He tested the strength of the muscles under the unexpectedly soft skin - silk covering steel. His explorations took him from Methos' broad shoulders down to the trim waist and firm buttocks. Mac's hands paused there as his caresses urged Methos to thrust against his own groin, their swollen cocks gliding against one another slickly.

Panting hard, Methos broke the kiss. "Don't you think we might be more comfortable lying down?" he suggested.

Mac nodded his agreement and reluctantly released his hold on the other Immortal. Kneeling down he efficiently zipped the two sleeping bags together into a single large one. He crawled inside and held the bag open for Methos to join him. The old Immortal didn't need to be asked twice.

"Now, where were we?" Methos purred as he drew Duncan close to him again. He dropped soft kisses on Mac's face and then began to work his way down the strong jaw and neck to the hollow of Mac's throat. He nipped and licked at the tanned skin, learning Mac's taste.

Duncan responded by snaking a hand between their close-pressed bodies. He found the hard length of Methos' penis and began a slow, teasing stroking that soon had the old Immortal begging for more. Mac shifted his hips, bringing his own cock into contact with Methos'. Then he encircled both with his large hand and began a harder, more insistent pressure.

Methos bucked against him, his movements increasing the friction of skin on skin still more. The old Immortal managed a breathy laugh as he sank his fingers deep into Duncan's glossy hair, holding on for dear life. His lips pressed lightly against the side of Mac's neck.

As he ghosted kisses over the still rain-damp skin the old Immortal whispered breathlessly, "Is that an old boy scout trick, Mac? Like rubbing two sticks together to make a fire?"

"Well, it's not in the handbook, Methos, but it's definitely making me hot," Duncan agreed. His voice was low and husky as his senses spiralled out of control.

Mac's world had narrowed down to the feel of Methos' lips brushing against the pulse point in his neck and the sensation of their two cocks bound together by his own circling fingers. Everything else was extraneous and unimportant.

Methos rolled them over until Duncan was on top of him. The Highlander's long, dark hair cascaded down round his face and Methos inhaled its sweet, clean scent deeply. Mac had braced himself on one elbow to keep his full weight off of Methos, but the old Immortal still relished the warm solidity of Mac blanketing him.

He knew he was getting very close now. Mac's hand still squeezed his cock with firm strokes and Methos could feel his body tensing itself. The first tendrils of pleasure snaked out into his belly and Methos threw his head back in anticipation of release.

The long, bared column of Methos' throat was too much of a temptation to Mac. He bent down, sucking on the smooth, pale skin. His teeth nipped at the exposed flesh and Methos shuddered. Bearing down a little harder Mac bit just deeply enough to break the surface of the skin. It was still sufficient to draw out Methos' Quickening, though, and the faint sparks of blue fire healed the tiny wounds almost at once.

Methos moaned softly. "Gods, that felt good, Mac! Do it again," he pleaded, "bite me again - harder!"

"What?" Mac drew back, startled.

"Damn it, MacLeod, just do it!" Methos insisted. "Do you have any idea how good that felt?"

Duncan still looked doubtful, but Methos' eyes held his, begging him mutely for more. A little uncertainly - the first time it had simply been a spontaneous reaction - Duncan leaned down, his teeth closing on Methos' vulnerable neck once more. He bit down harder, feeling the skin break and tasting the sharp, metallic tang of the old Immortal's blood in his mouth.

Methos reacted instantly, moaning even more loudly than before. His hips were writhing frantically against Duncan's. "Gods, Mac, don't you dare stop now!" he begged.

This time Mac obeyed at once. There was no disputing the deep note of pleasure in Methos' voice. As he sank his teeth into the old Immortal's neck for a third time Mac felt Methos explode into orgasm. The warm surge of fluid from Methos' cock was accompanied by a sharp flaring of his Quickening. Visible tendrils ran across the skin of his throat, healing the bite marks. It was strong enough for Mac to feel an answering spike in his own Quickening that triggered one of the most intense climaxes he'd had in a very long time.

The aftershocks rippled through both their bodies for several minutes. It was two very sticky, sweaty but satiated Immortals who eventually rolled apart, breathing hard.

"Dear God, Methos, what happened there?" demanded Duncan when he could finally speak.

"I have no idea," admitted Methos, "but I do know it felt bloody good." He laughed softly. "It could add a whole new meaning to taking your head!"

"You keep your teeth away from anywhere critical, old man!" Duncan admonished with mock severity. He grinned tiredly. "So, have I paid my debt now?"

"Dream on, MacLeod, that was just the first instalment," said Methos with a wicked smile.

Mac merely shook his head, staring up at the tent roof above him. The rain was still pounding down outside. "I felt your Quickening," he mused absently.

Methos propped himself up on one elbow, knowing the Highlander wouldn't let this go until he'd managed to explain what had happened to his satisfaction.

"Do you want an educated guess?" he asked.

"Yes, if you have one." Duncan rolled over until he was facing Methos. The old Immortal looked totally serious now. "What do you think happened?"

"Bordeaux happened," said Methos simply.

Mac frowned, uncertain. Bordeaux wasn't a topic he really wanted to think about at the moment - too many uncomfortable memories. He didn't want the spectre of past confrontations to spoil the closeness he'd now found with Methos.

"The double Quickening," Methos clarified, sensing Duncan's unease at his choice of subject matter. "In some way our Quickenings merged then. It was a pretty... intense experience." And that had to be the understatement of the year, Methos thought. It had been painful, erotic and utterly unlike any other Quickening he'd ever taken. And it had left some unexpected side effects in its wake. "I don't know about you," he continued, "but I've been able to recognise you by your buzz ever since."

Duncan considered that for a moment. "You're right," he said at last, wonderingly. "So have I. For some reason I never questioned it, though. It just seemed... normal."

"Well, be that as it may, I think when you bit me and my healing kicked in our Quickenings merged again, to a certain extent," Methos concluded. "It was certainly more intense than I'm used to."

"Do you think it's going to happen every time we...?" Mac actually blushed.

"Whenever we have sex?" Methos finished for him.

Mac nodded.

"I don't know..." Methos regarded the distinctly debauched-looking figure of the Highlander speculatively. Duncan could brood about this development to his heart's content - later. For now Methos had other, more pressing plans... "But it could be a lot of fun finding out!"

The End

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