Calling
his Bluff
He almost missed it. The bone-blades skimmed across Methos' long, pale neck and the hot flare of arousal that leapt in the green-gold eyes was so quick that if Tyr had blinked he would have missed it entirely. But he wasn't blinking – Tyr had every scrap of his not-inconsiderable attention fully focused on the man in his arms. He pressed the outer aspect of his forearm into Methos' throat once more, just to make sure he hadn't imagined it. There it was again, that delicious widening of Methos' eyes as the razor sharp blades pressed a scarlet line into his skin.
He could not miss the erection pressed eagerly against his thigh, however. Or the soft gasp of breath as he pressed Methos back into the wall, crowding the slender man with the size of his body. Methos shivered. Exquisitely responsive.
And apparently extremely aroused by the danger of bone-blades tickling his throat. The warrior in Tyr wondered at that for a moment. Then long, silky eyelashes were drifting down over the chameleon eyes and the tender lips parted a little, revealing a hint of the wicked tongue behind. Tyr ground his hips against Methos' hardness and felt the growing desperation in the answering shudder. The man was insatiable.
When his ship, bucket of bolts that it was, had stuttered to a stop on its way back to the Andromeda, Tyr had never imagined that this would be the outcome. These two men had stopped while he was affecting the repairs and offered their assistance. t wasn't all they had offered and Tyr was deeply grateful for that. It was not good to be alone so much and every day since that tantalizing brush with connectedness on Midden had only emphasized his solitude. But Dylan was waiting and it really was time that he was heading home.
But not just yet.
Tyr stopped distracting himself with thoughts of how he should have had the Maru back by now and concentrated on driving Methos out of his mind. Tyr's blades were fully erect now, pressing hard into the alabaster skin, the small extension tipping his arousal over into violent need. He did not know and could not have explained it but somewhere along the way of his life the lines between sex and battle had become blurred, and now to hold his blades ready like this was the most incredibly erotic sensation he could imagine.
Especially when used to such mutual pleasure.
Methos was arching against him, rubbing the length of his cock along Tyr's, his long-fingered hands clutching and greedy in Tyr's hair, on his body, over his cock. And all the while his lovely pale neck lay arched and still and vulnerable beneath the press of Tyr's blades.
Tyr thrust himself forward, his free hand wrapping around Methos' leaking cock in a long, slow stroke from base to tip that left the other man shaking. Sweat beaded on his beard-shadowed upper lip and Tyr leaned in to taste it, licking softly over sweet, mobile lips parting in ecstasy. Methos' tongue darted out to meet his and tangle with it, tripping around, playing into Tyr's mouth like a flame.
Small rumblings of enjoyment escaped Methos' throat as Tyr stroked the pulsing cock once more. Then Tyr found himself shuddering as a long-fingered hand wrapped firmly around his own cock, moving unerringly to caress the tiny knot of nerves just below the head. Exquisitely skilled fingers, confident and deft, teased his flesh until Tyr, too, was trembling. But he could wait, when waiting made it all the sweeter. This one had had it all to his own liking so far but no more…
"Tyr, please…" Methos groaned, his eyes pleading.
"No," Tyr growled softly as he pushed Methos to face the wall. "We're doing this my way." And the blades never strayed from their place against the Immortal's strong, fine neck, even as Tyr pressed closer to him and ground his cock hard into Methos' slender hips.
Methos shuddered and arched his neck into the bone-blades and Tyr could feel the tiny vibrato of the ecstatic sigh echoing along the sensitive joining of bone and flesh as pleasure gusted out of Methos' body. He ground harder in response, reaching around to take Methos' cock into his hand once more. He wrapped his hand around the silky-skinned shaft and rubbed his thumb over the moist tip.
"Oh, Tyr...please…"
Tyr nestled his aching, leaking, wanting cock between those firm cheeks and thrust, feeling them tense around him, gripping his flesh deliciously. The friction was almost enough to finish him all by itself. "Please what?" he murmured softly, stilling his hand mid-stroke to rub his thumb over the one spot he had discovered had Methos gasping with pleasure.
Methos arched back against him, spreading his legs and opening himself wide to Tyr's touch. "Fuck me." He was trembling through the long, strong muscles of his legs and back and the desperation in his voice was almost impossible to resist.
But when Tyr would have removed his arm from its place at Methos' throat and gone to find some oil to ease the way, Methos growled and grasped his arm tightly, refusing to let him go. "I must find us some lubrication," Tyr explained, lowering his mouth to taste the sweet, pale skin of Methos' neck, feathering sharp, little kisses up one side to finish at the curve of a delicate ear. "I would not want to hurt you."
"Don't care," Methos gasped, grinding back against him once more. "Do it now. I'm…" he writhed back and forth between Tyr's cock and hand, "…tougher than I look."
Tyr let the lovely, thick shaft slip from his grip and he slid his hand to rest on Methos' belly, rubbing it to ease the wild desperation. "Patience, Methos. I take no pleasure in pain."
"You clearly haven't been introduced to the right pain, then," Methos rasped, spinning to face him.
Tyr gasped as he saw him. Methos' pale neck was bright with blood; drops fell from three points where the blades had pierced his skin. Tyr looked down at the bone-blades that had been so recently pressed to that fine skin and felt his eyes go wide. The blades, too, were crowned with blood; the translucent tips a bright scarlet as if he was fresh from battle. The hot copper scent of the blood made his heart beat even faster, images of battlefields past running through his memory as the odor permeated the air.
Clearly his blades had been pressed deep into this man's neck the whole time. But Methos had said nothing –done nothing but beg for more. And there was more that was strange. Tyr lifted his hand to caress the wounded skin with gentle fingertips but there were no wounds, only blood smearing the smooth creamy skin.
"What are you?" Tyr asked, not missing the small lift of that strong chin as Methos' eyes met his defiantly. "You aren't human."
Methos blinked and narrowed his eyes as if debating his reply. "Not quite," he said at last. "We," he began, nodding in the direction of the man lying fast asleep on the bed, "are Immortals."
Tyr was puzzled. "But that is not the name of any people that I ever—"
Methos cut him off very effectively by wrapping two long, clever hands around his cock, performing some quite incendiary maneuver that had Tyr seeing bright points of light in front of his eyes. "Do you really want to talk, or do you want to fuck?" he asked with a dangerous purr underlying his words.
The bone-blades, which had returned to their normal position against his arm during the exchange, sprang erect once more as the velvety voice slithered into his ear and Methos' hands massaged his cock. "Fuck." The prospect of being inside this extraordinary creature was too enticing to resist.
"I want you in my mouth," Methos whispered, his eyes meeting Tyr's, dark with lust. "I want to you to fuck my mouth first."
And the temptation of using that clever, dangerous mouth was far too great to resist. Tyr placed his hands on the angular shoulders and gently pressed Methos to his knees. He acquiesced eagerly. The small hungry noise that Methos made as the tip of his tongue touched the droplet pearling at the head of Tyr's cock shivered right through him. It had been too long since he was desired this intently – far too long.
Heat enveloped him, soft and sleek and pliant. Tyr moaned and curved his hand around the back of Methos' neck as the slender man began to suck him. Long, sensitive fingers plucked and rubbed at Tyr's flesh, over his balls, between his thighs, along the cleft of his ass. He shuddered and spread his legs further apart, an appreciative noise escaping his throat as fingers pressed up into the sensitive skin behind his scrotum.
Methos responded by letting the cock slip from his lips and rubbing his face over it – catlike – placing small nibbling kisses along the side of the shaft, sucking tiny mouthfuls of foreskin between his lips. He teased the vein that snaked up the underside with the vaguest scrape of teeth and Tyr moaned out loud. Then Methos swallowed him whole and Tyr found himself in that incredible place between arousal and satiation where to choose between one or the other is an agonizing decision. So instead he luxuriated in the now, giving himself up to the dizzying pleasure of it.
A wise choice, Tyr decided, as Methos' hands encouraged him to thrust harder – faster. His cock slid deep into the hot, willing throat and it was so incredibly good, so bone-melting wonderful that Tyr had to lean on the wall behind Methos just to stay upright. Methos' tongue danced eccentric patterns over his burning flesh and he sucked even harder, and slowly Tyr became aware of the finger gently pressing for entry into his body. He moaned. So good… Tyr relaxed purposefully and let Methos enter him.
The finger stroked just inside his opening, sending bright, hot sparks showering through his body. Tyr thrust hard, felt the hot, wet passage open up to accommodate him, heard the greedy hum of pleasure as Methos took him deeper and finally Tyr just let himself go.
Pleasure flooded out of him in a gushing burning torrent as he came deep in Methos' throat. Methos swallowed hard but drew back as the spasms eased, leaving a thick coating of fluid over Tyr's shaft. His still poundingly hard shaft. He shuddered, as Methos tasted it with a broad flicker of his tongue, and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Methos wonderingly caressed the length of him with the tip of his finger.
"This is a clever trick," Methos said, opening his eyes and blinking mischievously. "Do all Nietszcheans have such delightful...endurance?"
Tyr growled and hauled Methos to his feet, spinning him to face the wall once more. "It is an evolutionary development," he rasped as he kicked Methos' legs apart, and folded his forearm back around Methos' neck so that the blades lay pressed against the sensitive skin. "To increase the chances of procreation." Tyr lined up his cock at the entrance to Methos' body and pushed inside with a single thrust, sheathing himself in the furnace that was Methos. Methos howled and gasped, pressing back into Tyr eagerly.
"Or increase the pleasure for our partner."
"Viva...la...evo...lution," Methos panted, as Tyr slid in deeper.
And he would not stay still. The Immortal shook and writhed and impaled himself again and again on Tyr's cock, his head falling back against Tyr's shoulder as he cried out over and over. It was all Tyr could do to hold himself back from following him out over the edge into climax.
Methos wasn't holding back though; if the noise coming from him was any indicator, he was roaring towards his orgasm without a single thought to restraint or self-control. Tyr merely hung on as best he could while Methos flew apart on the end of his cock. Then Methos was coming with a tortured gasp and a final bucking thrust of his hips. It was only then that Tyr began to move, giving Methos notice to rest.
With slow, easy thrusts Tyr sliding and out of the Immortal's lithe body. Methos sighed and shifted his legs further apart. This was better, now they could relax and enjoy each other, now that the tearing urgency was eased – for the moment, anyway. And Tyr was enjoying it – every long, slow exquisite thrust and withdrawal, every murmur and sigh, even the faint seawater smell of Methos' orgasm…
Tyr slipped his hand from where it rested on Methos' hip to fold it around the Immortal's hardening cock. It was slick with semen and Tyr trailed his fingers through the fluid, using it to lubricate his touch as he smoothed his hand over Methos' shaft. The Immortal made a small purring sound, nestling back into Tyr's arms as he grew erect once more. "Oh yes…" he sighed.
Tyr lifted his hand to the source of that sigh, using a slick forefinger to trace the outline of Methos' lips. A velvet-rough tongue stole out to flicker against his finger, greedily lapping every drop of fluid from it. Tyr reached down to gather more fluid and brought it back to Methos' mouth, this time slipping his finger between the small, sharp teeth. Methos sucked hard, adding an unexpected bite that sent an electric jolt coursing through Tyr's body and made his hips thrust hard into Methos. The Immortal whimpered, melting against him.
Tyr gathered him closer, relinquishing at last his hold around Methos' neck. He pressed Methos up against the wall and moved inside him as inexorably as the ocean. His finger still remained, held perilously between those sharp teeth and soft lips. Tyr angled his head to taste the pure curve of a pale shoulder, licking and sucking until bright blood bloomed just under the surface. Methos sighed and shuddered, releasing Tyr's finger at last.
Tyr felt the movement echo through his cock. In an instant he tumbled them both to the floor, pulling out of Methos' body and flipping him onto his back. He was back inside the tight heat of Methos' ass before either of them could breathe, pushing the long, pale thighs apart roughly and pressing them up towards Methos' shoulders. This was far better; he could see those unusual eyes and reach that tender, little mouth.
Tyr spread himself out over Methos' prone form, holding himself up with his hands placed either side of Methos' head. Slowly, Tyr lowered his mouth to taste Methos, his tongue darting out to sweep over moist red lips, tasting the man's own essence, before leaning in closer to kiss him deeply. Methos moaned and shifted restlessly below him, returning the kiss with an edge of desperation.
Tyr began to thrust, long and slow, deep into the hot silk-soft tightness of the man beneath him. He could feel his own balls grow tight with the orgasm building just over the horizon. Too good to last much longer. It had been so long since he'd had a beautiful, passionate man at his mercy like this and then in past day he'd had these two Immortals. Some accidents were lucky indeed.
The Immortal's recovery time was almost as remarkable as his own and Methos' cock was straining again, clear fluid pooling on his flat belly. He was completely and utterly possessed by arousal and exquisite with it. Tyr thrust harder, faster, curling Methos back on himself just to hear the pleasured moan that resulted. His muscles bunched and swelled against the tautness of his skin as he slid smoothly in and out of the Immortal's ass, angling his every thrust over the small swelling of Methos' prostate. His control was holding by the thinnest of threads.
But Methos had held on long enough. He moaned, "Fuck...Tyr…" And then Methos was coming again, helpless jets of fluid shooting across his chest as his eyes screwed shut and his lovely mouth fell open.
Tyr let go and allowed the spasms of Methos' orgasm to draw his own from him. Incredibly intense, a thunderclap of pleasure that rolled from the soles of his feet to his brain gathering power as it went, Tyr's orgasm left him spent and breathless, limp and sated. His arms buckled at the elbows and he collapsed over Methos' lax body, gasping noisily. After a short while, he lifted his hips to pullout of the Immortal but Methos moaned, sounding almost distressed.
"No, Tyr. Not yet…" Methos whispered. "Just stay, a little longer? Wait."
Tyr stilled and waited for Methos' body to release him, as he knew it eventually would. As he waited, he stroked a hand down the side of Methos' face, wanting to say something to this lover, who wasn't really his, and never would be, but who had been so joyous and free with his loving that for a little while Tyr had forgotten all he had lost and all he had ahead of him. There weren't really words to express what this little interlude had meant to him and yet he wanted to try. He looked into those changeable eyes of moss and shadows, hiding nothing in the intensity of his own expression as he swept his thumb across soft, red lips. "Thank you, Methos," Tyr said at last. "Thank you."
An impish grin curled the corners of Methos' mouth as he answered, "The pleasure was all mine."
**The End**