"Come on, you can't sit
the barge all day, Methos. It's a beautiful day – come out with me."
"I don't care – if I
want to see how beautiful it is, I'll go up on deck. I don't have to go
"You'll be gone, what, half a day? Can't you do without me for that long? When did you develop this clingy streak and how can we fix it?" Methos sniped, without raising his eyes from his book.
"I just wanted the
but if you'd rather stay here by yourself..."
Methos paused in his
dropping his shoulder just a fraction, tilting his head, and exposing a
more skin for his partner's attention.
"You don't really want to
out, do you, Mac? I can think of other – more entertaining things to do
with our time." Methos' voice was just beginning to get husky with need
and he turned and pulled
Their lips met, gently at
– a subtle, brushing taste that soon merged into a deeply passionate
caress. Their tongues tangled wildly and darted in and out of each
mouths. Methos moaned deep in his throat and
"Bastard! You did that on purpose," Methos hissed. Of course it might have been easier to take his outrage seriously if he hadn't been half-lying on the sofa with swollen lips and his eyes almost entirely black with lust.
"I have too much to do,
unfortunately... You'll just have to hold that thought until tonight."
"Very unfair, MacLeod. Where ever did you learn such dirty tricks?" Methos whispered as his head fell back against the sofa.
"Can't imagine... Come
with me, I'll make it worth your while..."
"Or I could just throw you down on the floor and have my way with you anyway," Methos growled under his breath.
"You could try..."
Methos sighed, a great
of breath puffing out as he stood finally. "Come on then, let's get
waste of time over with. The faster we get your errands done, the
faster we can
get back here." He watched an odd expression flit across
"So where do we start this tribute to tedium?" Methos sighed again as they drove off from the quay.
"Can you at least try to
interested in spending time with me?"
In spite of himself, Methos was chastened. "I'm sorry, Mac. I do want to spend time with you, but you know how all this running about annoys the hell out of me." You do realize he does that on purpose, don't you? Methos' inner voice protested.
"I'll try to make it
interesting for you then, shall I?"
There was a tone in the Highlander's voice that his lover didn't quite trust. What are you up to, Kiltboy? Methos narrowed his eyes and folded his arms but said nothing.
Their first stop was an
A low whisper spiced with the hint of a burr tickled Methos' ear. "I want you."
"Well, that was poorly timed. You could have had me half an hour ago, in case you've forgotten," Methos sniped softly as he leaned back against his partner's body..
In an instant Methos
seized and pushed into a small alcove formed by the juxtaposition of a
armoire and a tall Edwardian bookcase. They were concealed, but only if
"Monsieur MacLeod?" A reedy, French-accented voice called out through the echoing building. "Monsieur MacLeod, are you still here?"
Ahh, so that's the game we're playing...Well I'm up for it – so to speak. With a rueful smile, Methos buttoned his coat and went to the front of the building, still a little flushed and dazed, his heart rate slowly returning to pre-groping levels. He watched from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as MacLeod concluded his business with the Frenchman.
You are so whipped old man... One touch, one kiss and you're ready to have sex more publicly than you have since your last Roman orgy.
Of course that thought wasn't terribly productive in terms of being able to walk normally in a tight pair of jeans and Methos found himself uncomfortably aroused again, just by the thought of what Mac might have done if they hadn't been interrupted by that pissant Tallon.
Duncan, hard and deep inside me, thrusting wildly into me, fucking me up against the wall; his hot hand wrapped tightly around my cock, his teeth sinking into my neck as we come together...
"Are you ready?" A brown-sugar voice infiltrated the fantasy.
"Oh yes..." Methos answered dreamily. Hello! Reality time... "I mean yeah, let's go." Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Methos followed his lover to the car.
As they drove along Methos recovered the use of enough brainpower to ask Mac what was next on the agenda. His body was still tingling and hypersensitive, even his clothing seemed to be conspiring against him to keep him far too aroused for public decency.
"The Gustav Moreau museum actually. I promised the curator I'd loan them a small painting of his that I own. Shouldn't take long."
"The Moreau, huh?" This should be interesting.
"The curator's someone you might know, Marcus Constantine."
"Yes I know him." You could say that. "Wasn't he at the – "
"He's just gone to the Moreau. How do you know him?"
"It was a long time ago. Hardly worth mentioning."
"No, nothing like that. I always rather liked Marcus."
"Gods, MacLeod. Unlike some people I could name, I haven't slept with every Immortal I've ever met."
"I have not slept with every Immortal I've ever met! That is such an exaggeration! You make me sound like such a... such a..."
"Slut?" Methos offered helpfully.
"Promiscuous?" Methos blinked innocently. "Was that the word you wanted? Easy, perhaps? Indiscriminate?"
"It's not my fault that your chronicles are a laundry list of all your conquests, and such interesting reading they are too," Methos smirked.
"You know entirely too much about my past. It's not fair."
"All's fair in love and war, MacLeod. You should know that."
"And which is this?"
"Touchy, aren't we? Why
would I be putting up with all this running about after you if I didn't
you, you big idiot?" Methos laid a hand on
"Love you too, I
They had arrived in front of the museum, a tall narrow building hidden amongst houses. Parking the SUV in the street, they walked through the iron-gated door into the museum building, and sought directions from the security guard.
They found Marcus in the main studio, studying the imposing painting that dominated the center of the wall at one end of the room. He turned to greet them as their presences met.
"Adam will do fine for here, thanks, Marcus. How are you?" Methos asked as he slouched against the back of the seating in front of the painting.
"I am very well. Look at this place – it's going to take me forever to whip it into shape. I couldn't be happier."
Methos grinned in understanding. "I know what you mean."
As the other two men discussed the acquisition of MacLeod's painting, Methos wandered around the main studio. Some interesting work here, that much was certain – although some of it was a little too dark and iconographic for his taste. He glanced back to where Marcus and Duncan stood looking over some papers spread out on a display case full of small sculptures. One of them was a nude marble figure of a tall, thin man with very long legs. Oh that Gustav Moreau. Uh-oh, I wonder if Mac's noticed. What interesting times those were… He made me look about eighteen though… Methos sighed quietly.
As if he'd heard the
"Okay Marcus, I'll leave it in your capable hands then. It'll be delivered tomorrow. Let me know when you're finished with it and I'll come and pick it up."
"Thank you again, MacLeod. It's good to see you again – both of you." Marcus shook hands with both men and they left him in the studio.
They were walking out
Methos had to work hard not to grin, he'd known that this was coming from the minute MacLeod had mentioned the Moreau. "Hmm. I think I'll come with you."
Oh yes, trust you to
location of the better known public sex venues in
They found the men's room
any difficulty and went inside. The minute they passed through the door
found himself grabbed and dragged into the nearest cubicle.
Still they kissed, their
urgency making them fierce with each other. Lips were hard and tongues
thrusting, skimming past smooth sharp teeth as
Methos sank to his knees
It was too much.
Methos was lost in a
heat and lust,
The banging of the door
unknown man left the room was like a signal to Methos, he reached his
and grasped his lover's ass, opened his throat wide and took Duncan in
as he would go, until his lips met the coarse hair that curled around
Rhythmically, Methos worked his throat muscles around the shaft as
Methos looked up at
"MacLeod, are you here? Adam, you old goat, I know you're in here. Come out, come out wherever you are..."
The lovers could hear the
With a last regretful
"Do I mind? I'm not the one with a poor grasp of the public decency laws. I know what these bathrooms are known for, but you two will just have to get a room."
"MacLeod, I need you to sign off for the insurance on the painting before you leave."
The three Immortals filed
the men's room and went back down to the main studio.
"So Mac, what's next on
list – a hand job at the
"You're so very funny. What did I do to deserve someone as hilarious as you?"
"You've led a pure and virtuous life, of course," Methos answered with only a small snort of laughter down his nose. "So where are we really off to next?"
"I ordered a new tux –
you know I promised Claudia that we'd go to her concert on Saturday and
"But you look so good in
A silence stretched
"Oh okay... I suppose I
wear black tie – just this once. Just for you. But you owe me –
big." A wry smile turned the corner of Methos' mouth skyward. Whipped.
Thoroughly. Methos slammed the door shut on his intrusive inner
concentrated on watching the manic
The hand skimmed higher and Methos shuddered as it trailed up his inner thigh. I don't care if I am, so long as keeps doing that, he thought as Mac's hand found his erection once more.
"You'll have to do something about that if you're not going to give the tailor entirely the wrong idea."
"Oh yes? Have anything in mind?" Methos fidgeted uncomfortably in the seat as his expanding flesh was trapped in non-expanding fabric. Thank the gods this hideous SUV is too high for every man and his dog to see what we're up too in here. And while we're at it, thank them for automatic transmission too. Oh...my...
"I might at that, give me
They drove up the levels, higher and higher, and the number of cars thinned as they progressed. MacLeod found a poorly lit corner of an upper floor and parked.
"So, you've got me here, now what do you propose to do with me?" Methos murmured huskily, as he turned to look at his lover.
"Thought I'd take care of
"Do you have to ask?"
Methos groaned as
Methos watched out for
the rear-vision mirror while
He probably has the whole thing memorized by now. Amazing what a few solid months of practice will do for one's technique...
Then Methos' cock was sucked deep into his lover's mouth and thought went the way of the dodo. The only reality, the only sure thing in his universe at that moment, was the hot, silken flesh drawing him ever further into complete neural burnout. Methos sagged against the backrest of the car seat, struggling for each ragged breath, his eyes almost-but-not-quite focusing. So close, just a little longer… Movement in the rear vision mirror caught his eye, a security guard was lumbering towards them, his gaze fixed on the SUV.
Oh shit, shit, shit! Methos tapped MacLeod on the back and tried to re-engage his brain.
"Mac! Company! Let's go! Now!" he hissed desperately.
Fortunately, blowjobs weren't MacLeod's only talent; he also did emergencies rather well, too. Without missing a beat or looking the least bit flustered, he took in the approaching authority figure, started the car, reversed past the guard with a cheery 'Bonjour' and had them driving back out of the lot as calmly as they had entered.
"That was close,"
"You think?" Methos was unimpressed with his lover's sense of humor. Then he realized that his pants were still unbuttoned and held off from further verbal savaging to stuff his hypersensitive and only half-deflated flesh back into his jeans and fasten the buttons.
"You know, Methos, it's pretty late. I could do with some lunch before we head over to the tailor's. You hungry?"
"Starving," he growled. Not for food of course...
"Good, well let's go,
"Sure, why not." Since I seem to have abdicated all free will today. I might as well keep going with the flow. Methos sighed again and sank further into the seat. Whipped. his inner critic added, just in case he'd forgotten.
MacLeod was driving too fast again and when he hurled the green monster into a newly available parking spot on the street, Methos was thrown against the car door, his elbow connecting with the door handle with a sharp crack.
"Fuck! Christ, MacLeod, where did you learn to drive? That really hurt." Still cursing the Scot, his personality, his parentage and all his future endeavors, Methos rubbed the injured appendage.
"Here show me... How bad
it be? It's not like it won't be healed in a minute anyway. Such a
"By that rationale MacLeod, and by the way I'm a drama queen? Look who's talking... By that rationale I could quite happily slice off your ear and feed it to you, because of course 'it'll be healed in a minute...' Shall we try that?" Acid dripped from every syllable of Methos' words as he snatched his arm back.
"I suppose so. Weren't
about to feed me something hideously expensive and decadent?" Methos
slipped out of the passenger seat and waited beside the car for
MacLeod wasn't too slow on the uptake. "Of course, anything you want…" he answered as he stepped out of the car and went to his lover.
They entered the
followed the maitre-d through the cool, dimly lit interior to a
table with a banquette on one side, seating themselves at it close
MacLeod slipped the maitre-d a hefty tip before the man smiled
returned to his post, walking through the almost empty room.
Oh no, not again... Not here...oh yes...there. Methos' eyes were beginning to cross as pleasure flooded his nervous system.
Methos' eyes fluttered closed as he fought the desire to let go, regardless of the time and place. "Please..." he whispered. "No more, I can't stand it..." His mouth was dry and lightning flashed along his limbs, tingling right through to his fingertips.
"May I take your order now, M'sieurs?"
Methos nearly jumped as the waiter finally rescued him from certain embarrassment. Damn slow French service. Where were you a minute ago?
"Oui, we'll have the fish, and a salad nicoise I think. For two, thanks."
As the waiter strolled
"Are you okay, now?" MacLeod asked him.
"Well I managed not to come in my pants, if that's what you mean. No thanks to you, of course. Exactly what do you think you're playing at anyway?" Methos was clearly going for outrage but it came out breathless and raw with desire.
"I don't know what you
"I thought I was getting something decadent and expensive. What sort of lunch is fish and salad?"
Methos got his way on the
at least and after the crème brulee was only a memory and a
sweet aftertaste on
their lips the immortals left the restaurant and walked down the
towards the men's wear shop. It was early afternoon and the summer heat
Of course if I had a
dagger, a pistol and at least one small knife secreted about my person
probably want to keep it all covered up too. It's a wonder he can walk
They reached the entrance
busy store and
Is it too late to retire to a monastery for a decade or two?
He sighed heavily. Clothes shopping, was there anything more boring? Well yes, but it was a close contest. Methos found a handy vertical surface to lean against and glowered silently as an eager young man fell over himself to assist MacLeod.
How does he do that? Just shows up and stands there like the lord of the manor and people just gravitate to him like magnets, fighting amongst themselves to do his bidding. I just stand here as if I'm invisible...
Methos watched as
"Henri, do you think you could find something for my friend here? He'll need his by Saturday too. Can you manage that?"
"Of course. If M'sieur would come with me..." The young man led Methos to a nearby cubicle and began to take his measurements, all the while baffling him with the million and one minor distinctions between various evening suits.
Finally Methos had had enough. "Look. Henri, is it? I don't care about lapels or buttons or how the pants break. All I want is a suit that I can wear on Saturday and not embarrass myself or that man in there, whose opinion happens to mean rather a lot to me. Okay? Does that simplify things for you?"
Henri smiled in sudden sympathy. "Very much. I think I may 'ave just the thing. One moment, please..." The young man walked quickly from the change room.
Methos sighed in relief as the assistant returned in a few moments and handed him a suit.
The curtain closed once more and he began to try on the tux. Methos was just fastening the fly of the trousers when MacLeod's face appeared around the edge of the curtain, smiling broadly. The face was quickly followed by the rest of the man, slipping into the small cubicle, crowding his lover.
"You look good."
Methos melted. He was
completely powerless against this gentle tenderness when he'd been
more of the aggressive plundering of the past few hours. This sweet,
barely-there contact of lips and tongue, teased and tantalized him, but
sought to move forward and increase the friction between them he was
It was an effort not to
"M'sieur? 'ow is the suit?" the young assistant called from just outside the cubicle.
Methos opened his mouth to answer but his throat was thick with lust and the words caught there. He coughed, cleared his throat and tried again.
"It's fine, Henri, I'll
in just a moment." He pushed
Methos slipped the jacket
left the change room, pausing in front of the long mirror. The pants
longer and the jacket could be neater around the waist but altogether
all that hideous… Henri bustled about taking
making notes for the tailor to do the alterations.
I want you so badly, MacLeod.
Henri completed his fussing around Methos and turned to MacLeod. "Are you 'appy with the fit of your suit, M'sieur?"
"I think it'll do, once the pants are lengthened of course. You can have them both ready for us Saturday, is that right?"
"Naturellement." The assistant turned and walked away, leaving them to change back into their own clothes.
Methos stripped as quickly as possible and donned his jeans, shirt and coat. He waited a little longer, listening to the sounds rustling from the next change room. When the time was right he slipped silently from one cubicle to the next.
"Hello, Mac – not dressed yet?" Methos murmured with a wolfish grin as he entered.
MacLeod was caught
precisely at the
moment between taking off the suit trousers and reaching for his own
pants that hung on a hook on the wall. Methos' eyes raked over his
body. They took in the long, well-shaped legs dusted with crisp hair.
passed over the soft cotton briefs just visible beneath the long tail
starched, white, formal shirt and lingered on the olive-skinned chest
by that unbuttoned shirt. The look of surprise on
Methos advanced on his lover, pulled MacLeod into his arms and whispered into his ear, "Have you any concept of how utterly fuckable you look right now?"
"Not as good as you do,
"Don't..." Methos gasped,
"don't stop..." He ground his denim-covered erection against
While Methos urgently toed off his shoes and dropped his jeans and coat to the floor, MacLeod rooted through the pockets of his own coat as it hung beside them.
Methos heard the soft rustling behind him and wondered for a moment what MacLeod was up to, and then it dawned on him. Full points for planning, lover. A large, warm hand closed around Methos' aching cock and rolled the condom over it. Methos' head dropped back as he inhaled a shaky breath. Then a couple of slick fingers penetrated and he eased back into them, fucking himself between the hands in front of him and behind.
"Quickly Mac..." I need you inside me I can't wait, this whole day's been endless foreplay, now all I want is to come with you inside me. "I'm ready now," he hissed desperately.
It was just a small
at first – quiet and subtle – but very quickly Methos was shaking
with the force of the arousal flooding through him. He gave himself up
– let it carry him along in a racing current of sensation.
The tension in Methos' belly grew unbearable. His breath was coming in great shuddering rales. Starbursts of white-hot electricity burned along his veins. His head arched back tautly and knew he couldn't hold out much longer under this onslaught. He gritted his teeth until his jaw began to cramp – just to stop himself crying out with the unbearable ecstasy of it all.
Inevitably, they had to
With a final kiss to the side of his lover's neck,
"Such a boy scout, always prepared..." Methos teased quietly as he leaned against the wall and tried to recover himself.
"Aren't you glad that I
"Always." His eyes
flicked up to meet
"Love you, too. Now let's get out of here before Henri starts to wonder why it's taking us so long to get dressed."
If the shop assistant noticed anything strange about their behavior, Monsieur MacLeod was far too generous with his tips for him to make any indication of it. After making the arrangements to collect their suits, the Immortals left the store and walked back to the car in companionable silence.
"So, Mac, any plans for tomorrow? Anything you need a little company for?" Mischief glittered in Methos' hazel eyes and a crooked smile lurked at the corner of his mouth.
"We'll have to see, won't we? Any suggestions?"