Stuck
on You
Methos
thrust up beneath him, restless and
needy. "Fuck me," he gasped, spreading his legs wider and wrapping
them around Duncan's waist. "Fuck me now."
Duncan kissed him again, while he reached into the bedside drawer and
fumbled
for the lube. The small tube had managed to work its way all the way to
the
back of the drawer, but he caught it between two fingers and pulled it
out
without ever having to remove his lips from Methos' lovely mouth.
A quick squirt and stroke of the lube over his cock was all he bothered
with
before he was sliding into the heavenly heat of Methos' ass. One
thrust, then
two and then....
Something was seriously wrong.
"Duncan!" Methos panted beneath him. "Move!"
"I can't." Really. He couldn't.
"I don't care if you come first. Just fucking move." Methos
squirmed and writhed in Duncan's arms.
The chill of impending doom ran down Duncan's spine. "Methos...I think
there's something wrong." He went to shift backwards, to pull out, but
Methos squawked and Duncan froze in shock.
He'd never heard Methos make a noise quite like that before.
"MacLeod..." Methos snarled. "What. Have. You. Done?"
Duncan reached across and switched on the lamp. Looked at the tube
lying on the
rumpled bedsheets. Felt his erection shrivel and his testicles crawl up
into
his belly.
He was a dead man.
"Superglue," he said in the tones of the condemned.
"Superglue," Methos repeated. "You've superglued your cock in my
arse."
"And my hand to your cock," Duncan added though he'd rather have said
anything else.
Methos was silent for a long time and Duncan found himself running
through
various scenarios that didn't involve calling an ambulance, visiting an
emergency room or winding up on the six o'clock news. Alien abduction
seemed
unlikely, however welcome it might have been.
"Pass me my sword, would you?' Methos asked as if he was wanting the
salt.
Duncan wasn't fooled. "I don't think killing me is going to help right
now."
"Duncan..." Methos said gently. "I'm not going to kill
you."
Against his better judgment, Duncan reached under the bed and pulled
out
Methos' sword, passing it into his hand.
"Then what are you going to do with it?" Duncan asked -- far too
late.
"Hold still, MacLeod," Methos growled, pushing against Duncan's chest
with his free hand.
The cold steel was on his skin before he could breathe. His dick
shriveled some
more. He tried pulling out again.
Then there was pain the likes of which he'd never known, a quick flash
of steel
and copious amounts of blood.
"Don't worry, MacLeod," he heard Methos say as the room went gray
around him. "It only takes a hundred years or so to grow back."
the end
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