Sunspots

It began at breakfast, but things were strange even before then. The day dawned with the sort of air-crackling electricity that normally presages a storm, but the sky was as clear and blue as Seacouver ever saw. Methos could see a few gauzy, white clouds scudding past the high loft windows, yet nothing to account for the strange sensations running just under his skin.

Duncan ran early, as usual. Methos reluctantly let him slip away from their bed, shifting automatically into the warm spot his lover left, surrounding himself with the unique, spicy scent Duncan left behind. That did nothing to settle him either. The scent seemed to seep into Methos' skin, soaking him in the essence of the man that he loved. He could feel Duncan in every pore of his skin, a heavy, warm blanket of sensation so vivid it was almost touch.

He almost dragged Duncan back into the bed, the restless energy teasing at the edge of his senses, even then, something unseen making him fidgety and unsettled. Need and desire and something else -- something indefinable-- gnawed at him, shivering along his spine and curling into his groin.

The sight of Duncan in running shorts did nothing to calm him. The long, tanned, well-muscled legs flexing and stretching beneath those brief, silky little shorts had Methos hungering to fall to his knees and tear those shorts off with his teeth. But Duncan slipped away, jogging down the stairs with a final incendiary look at Methos who tossed the covers aside to show Duncan just how strongly the sight had affected him.

Duncan had merely grinned wolfishly and kept going. Bastard.

Methos stalked away from the bed and went to start breakfast, pulling worn, old sweats over his stubborn hard-on. The arousal refused to die through the rote chores of making coffee, eggs and toast. It merely lay in waiting, crouched like a sleeping beast, waiting for the moment when Duncan would return and it could be unleashed. Just the thought was enough to make his cock throb anew. He ignored it stoically and beat the eggs a little harder than strictly necessary.

At long last, Methos felt the first gentle caress of Duncan's presence brushing over his skin, a skein of warm silk settling over him. He put down the coffee cup he was holding and turned towards the lift as the gears groaned, his heart thudding expectantly as he waited for Duncan to appear. He had no idea what it was that was making him so edgy, but right now he didn't care.

"You were quick," Methos commented as the lift reached the loft and the gate was thrown upwards, revealing the tall, bronze figure Methos had been waiting so impatiently for, stepping out to greet him with a sultry smile.

Sweat ran down from Duncan's hair, darkening it to raven and glossing the skin that it passed over. The thudding of Methos' heart grew to a rapid thundering as Duncan smiled and stepped out towards him. "I cut it short. For some reason I couldn't concentrate."

A heavy dark eyebrow lifted and the small curling of a full lip told Methos exactly what had been distracting his lover. The latent desire flared once more, licking at his groin. "I made breakfast," he said, somewhat unnecessarily, considering the evidence was spread out all around him in the kitchen.

"Wonderful," Duncan answered, smiling. "I'm starving." The look in Duncan's eyes told him just what his lover was starving for, and the knowledge set something sweet and hot free in Methos' chest. "But I really should go and take a shower first," he added, lifting his t-shirt away from his chest with a small grimace.

"Have one later -- you'll need it then." Methos let that one sink in as he sauntered away casually to serve up the breakfast he'd made. Duncan didn't smell all that bad, really. And there really was something about the aroma of clean male sweat...

So they sat, perched on the barstools at the kitchen counter, eating scrambled eggs and drinking coffee and all the while Methos watched Duncan watching him. Hot, hungry looks that Methos knew only too well. Duncan had the come fuck me look down pat. Eventually it was too much.

"Ohh...get over here," Methos growled as Duncan laid his fork down to look innocently up at him.

A smile twitched around Duncan's mouth as he slipped from his seat and stood in front of Methos. "Here?" he asked, looking more edible than breakfast.

"Mmm..." Methos answered, pulling him into his arms. And Duncan smelled wonderful... sweat and all. Methos thought as he rubbed his face against the broad chest. Good enough to eat, in fact.

Methos pulled Duncan down a little so he could reach the younger man's neck, nibbling at the base of his throat. The skin there was soft, satin and velvet, and yet softer and finer than either. Delicious -- salty and sweet with exertion. Before Methos could squelch it, a small hungry noise escaped his mouth when, after a minute or so, Duncan pulled away. But then Duncan's mouth was on his, kissing him passionately, his hands leaving Methos' back to slip up and cradle his face and that was better than anything. Methos kissed him back fiercely, wrapping his arms and legs around him, drawing him as close as he could.

"Love your mouth," Duncan gasped as he bent Methos' head back and trailed kisses like fire down his throat. "Love your skin..." Duncan mumbled as he bit hard.

Methos hissed as the sharp teeth sank into his flesh. Need spiked along his nerves, making Methos moan and rub himself against his lover. Duncan sucked a mouthful of skin into his mouth and Methos could feel the bruise spreading across his skin as the sharp teeth pressed inwards. It only made him hotter -- made Methos want to crawl inside Duncan's skin just to get closer to him. Inside his sweats Methos' cock throbbed, almost painfully swollen already. "Want you," Methos whispered, sliding his hands up under Duncan's t-shirt.

"Yes..." Duncan rasped, as Methos' fingers teased his nipples.

A large hand covered Methos' groin and he pressed eagerly into it. Duncan's fingers stroked firmly over his erection, tracing the outline as it pushed against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Methos' breath caught in his throat as Duncan's deft fingers sneaked under the waistband of his pants and pulled them down far enough to free his cock. Then Duncan sank to his knees and Methos forgot about breathing altogether.

Duncan's mouth was wet and soft and hot, enveloping him with just the right amount of suction. Methos groaned and tried to move deeper. But sitting was no good -- Methos couldn't get the movement he needed. He stood up, tangling one hand into Duncan's thick hair. Duncan made a soft humming noise as Methos began to push all the way into that furnace of a mouth. The small vibration seemed to travel from Methos' cock all the way up his spine to explode in his brain. Then he felt Duncan's head go lax in his hand, giving him complete control.

"Gods, Duncan..." Methos moaned desperately. "Your mouth!" He thrust slowly into the welcoming heat. Sweet and frighteningly perfect.

Duncan moaned, deep inside, and sucked harder, taking Methos deeper. Methos felt his cock sliding down the tight, silky throat and the world seemed to tilt a little. So fucking good... Electricity was sparking along every nerve ending in Methos' body and edging him ever closer to his orgasm. Methos' fingers tangled tighter in his lover's hair as he fucked Duncan's mouth more quickly.

Methos could feel the tremors running through Duncan's body through the small point of contact under his hands where they rested on his head and shoulder. Duncan shuddered as Methos slid his hand from shoulder to neck. The skin of Duncan's throat was soft and smooth under Methos' fingers as he stroked gently along it, feeling the muscles beneath working over his cock. Duncan was close to his climax, just a little longer and they would both come, Methos could feel it crackling in the air around them.

Breath grew short and ragged and Methos groaned loudly, so close now he felt his whole body tensing, taut as a bow, as he teetered on the brink of orgasm. Any minute and he would -- if Duncan would just keep that perfect rhythm going just a little longer...

And he did.

"Now!" Methos gasped as his control broke and the orgasm took over his body. He came in long, pulsing streams down Duncan's throat.

And Duncan swallowed -- kept swallowing until Methos thought he would pass out from the intensity of sensation being concentrated around his cock. The world grayed a little as Methos sank back onto the barstool once more. Duncan's mouth still covered his cock, licking and kissing the softening flesh, his hands coming up to stroke and soothe the trembling muscles of Methos' thighs. At last his cock slipped from Duncan's mouth and Methos loosed his cramped fingers from their death grip on Duncan's hair.

Methos pulled Duncan up into his arms again, angling his lover's face to kiss him deeply. Duncan's eyes were heavy-lidded and very black and his mouth tasted of Methos' orgasm, salty and bittersweet all at once. Methos' tongue delved deeply into Duncan's mouth as they kissed, while Duncan trembled against him, still unsatisfied. Not for long, Methos thought, as his hands covered Duncan's ass to pull him closer.

Duncan returned the kiss voraciously, and Methos felt himself devoured by lips and tongue and teeth. With one hand, the younger man reached out and swept the dishes from the kitchen counter, sending them crashing to the floor in a splatter of leftover egg and spilled coffee. Methos found himself lifted and placed on the edge of the countertop, Duncan's mouth still doing its best to eat him alive.

"Want you," Duncan rasped, breathless and low. "Have to have you now. Don't say no...I need to be inside you." He rubbed the hardness at his groin into Methos' leg. "Please, Methos..." His hands slipped up over Methos' chest to curl around his neck, his thumbs teasing at those places that made Methos want to whimper out loud.

And Methos was hard again, as if he hadn't just come only a few minutes before and the thought of Duncan fucking him was just too perfect to wait another second. "Yes." Methos lay back and lifted his hips as Duncan roughly dragged the sweats from him and tossed them aside. "Now."

When he was naked and spread out on the bench top with nothing between himself and his lover but Duncan's hungry gaze, Methos was still, watching Duncan prepare them both with care and urgency. Duncan was so beautiful, so alive like this, caught up in the magic of this stolen moment. And then Duncan's cock was poised to enter him and Methos couldn't think anymore.

Soft-tipped hardness pressed into him, sliding smoothly a little way and no more. There was a brief, bright flare of heat that spread into a flooding warmth that suffused his whole body, making him heavy and hot, languidly responsive. Slowly, incredibly slowly, Duncan pushed the rest of his length inside Methos. Almost unbearable, this pleasure, this fullness, this sense of being joined so closely with his lover. He trembled on the edge of wanting more; waiting for Duncan to move as his languor faded and desperation grew. Methos arched his back and ground his ass against his lover, pulling him deeper, begging him with his body to get on with it...

"Damn you're beautiful like this," Duncan whispered harshly, his large hands gripping Methos' hips to keep him still. "So hot." He pulled out a little way and immediately shoved back in again. "So fucking tight."

It was too much, Methos' body burned with need, desire rippled through him, making him gasp uncontrollably. "Duncan, please," he whispered brokenly. "More?"

Again the excruciatingly slow withdrawal followed by the equally slow advance. Methos' toes curled behind Duncan's neck and his hand closed around his own cock.

"Yes," Duncan hissed. "Touch yourself. I love to watch you with your hands on yourself. I love your hands..."

Duncan might as easily not have spoken. All Methos' body was focused on the sensations shimmering through him from the steel-hard length moving so slowly inside. "Please," Methos begged breathlessly, his voice nothing more than a harsh whisper. "Please...oh gods... Please... Harder...faster...more..."

"Demanding bastard," Duncan growled, a low shivery noise that slithered over neurons and synapses, stoking and fanning the flames. He moved again, but no faster.

"Yes -- whatever you say -- just fuck me harder, please!" Methos sobbed, becoming frantic now.

Duncan's hands tightened around Methos' hips. "No."

Cruel, too cruel. The relentlessly gentle ebb and flow of movement; this too-slow rhythm that teased at the edges of satisfaction without ever coming close to it, was going to kill him, Methos was sure.  He would spontaneously combust and die. In desperation, Methos stroked his own cock more quickly, unable to wait any longer.  He clenched his inner muscles tight around Duncan's cock and shivered as the reaction bloomed on Duncan's face.

"Bastard," Duncan rasped, thrusting deep.

"Yes...anything. Just do that again." Methos arched down onto his lover's shaft, moaning with delight as it pressed against his prostate.

"This?" Duncan teased, withdrawing and thrusting hard again.

"Don't stop. Don't ever stop." Methos was going out of his mind with lust, his whole focus was reaching this orgasm, the fire licking at his body was threatening to consume him. The cold bench beneath his back, the smell of spilled coffee and cold breakfast, all of it disappeared from his consciousness as he got lost inside the striving need for completion.

"Damn, you're beautiful when you're desperate," Duncan murmured as he thrust deep again.

Methos clenched hard around Duncan's cock, but said nothing. He was close now, just a little more and he would come, in spite of Duncan's relentless teasing. He would pay for that later, too. Methos would see how he liked being reduced to a mindless puddle of need...later. Right now, all Methos wanted was to release this coiling tension inside him.

Then, suddenly, Duncan wasn't teasing anymore, but pounding hard into Methos' ass, the slap of flesh on flesh a counterpoint to the breathy moans coming from them both. Duncan's hands loosed their bruising grip on Methos' hips and caught up his hands, peeling them away from his leaking cock. He interlaced their fingers and pinned Methos' hands to the countertop by his sides. Freed, Methos curled his hips upward fractionally until the angle was perfect. Ahhh, yes... Now every thrust pressed Duncan's cock over his prostate and the ripples of orgasm were beginning low in his belly.

Soon, soon, soon... If he could just prolong this soaring ecstasy a little longer. If Duncan would just keep moving inside him so beautifully, with a strength and a rhythm that seemed expressly designed to make Methos dizzy with pleasure. Just a little longer. Then, in a small, still place in the eye of the storm, their eyes met and the sheer, unalloyed love Methos could see reflected back at him was his undoing.

Methos bucked helplessly, arching up, his back bowing until only his ass and his head touched the countertop, his whole body so tense it felt like it would break in two. Duncan shoved hard into him -- once, twice more-- as Methos began to come. A splatter of hot fluid hit him in the chest, and he cried out as the spasms racked his body. Searing heat filled his gut as Duncan came hard, shuddering and digging his fingers into Methos' hands. But the pleasure, the pleasure was threatening to blow the top off his head.

They were still coming as Duncan slumped forward into Methos' arms. The last spurts and spasms of their bodies were their only movements while they lay panting and gasping in one another's arms. After a long while, Methos grinned and brushed a kiss across Duncan's lush mouth, still red and swollen from their kisses. "I told you that you'd need a shower later."

Duncan tilted his pelvis and his cock slipped from Methos' body, drawing a hiss from them both. He dipped a finger into the come on Methos' chest and brought it to his mouth, licking it clean, his eyes drifting closed with pleasure. "I'm not the only one, Old Man. You could use one, too." Duncan straightened up and Methos was pulled into his arms again.

And it was the strangest thing; the desire that should have lain dormant after such an explosive climax was still there, still simmering just below the surface of Methos' skin. He pressed close to Duncan's hot, slippery body and whispered into his ear, "Yes."

Naked and sweat-soaked, they inched their way to the bathroom, distracted frequently by the need to stop and taste and touch, and sigh over the tasting and the touching, until they had touched and tasted their way almost all the way to the bathroom. Methos had to stop, though, just outside the bathroom, pressing Duncan up against the rough brick wall, drawing him into a desperate kiss.

Their mouths clashed as if they had been apart days instead of seconds. Hunger leapt high in Methos' blood as he devoured his lover. His tongue slipped over slippery-sharp teeth and a velvet tongue, tasting heat and desire and the promise of pleasures to come. And then they were moving again, still joined at the mouth as they blindly edged their way into the bathroom.

He broke off the kiss as Duncan reached out to turn on the water, bending his head to nibble at a small, brown nipple. Methos nuzzled close, tweaking the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Duncan moaned and arched his back, pushing towards the contact. Methos sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth and bit a little harder.

"Fuck, Methos!" Duncan gasped.

"If you're lucky," Methos answered with a grin, straightening to pull Duncan into his arms again, kissing him roughly. Duncan met his passion equally and strong arms wound around Methos' back, sliding down to cover his ass.

The water began to steam and they stepped into it. It cascaded over dark skin and pale and they slipped and slithered against each other, getting clean only accidentally. Methos licked and bit at his lover's golden skin, feeling the small shudders that ran through the younger man at every touch. He stepped back a little from Duncan and gently pushed him to face the wall, leaving that beautiful back free to his touch. And it was a beautiful back, sleek and muscled, narrowing in a perfect v-shape to his glorious butt. Methos ran his hands over the curves and hollows of Duncan's back, pressing his lips to the nape of his neck.

Duncan widened his stance and tilted his hips back, towards Methos' touch. Such a greedily sensual creature, his Duncan, he loved to touch and be touched -- as often as possible. Methos slipped his hands down Duncan's back and cupped his hands over the smooth curves of the younger man's ass. He watched a tremor run beneath the soft skin and felt it echoed under his own.

"God, Methos...touch me..." Duncan breathed, barely audible over the rush of the water.

"I am, love..." Methos sank to his knees and pressed his lips to the small of Duncan's back, laving it with hot, wet kisses. Duncan spread his legs wider, in unmistakable invitation.

Methos gently pulled the cheeks of Duncan's ass apart, tonguing his way down the cleft, up and down, over and over, but avoiding for the moment the small pink hole that drew his eye.

"Methos...please?" Duncan begged breathlessly. "I need you..."

Methos paused in his determined licking of the smooth skin behind Duncan's balls. "What do you need?"

"Your tongue," Duncan rasped.

"Oh yes?" Methos teased at Duncan's sac, tickling it with the tip of his tongue. "But not just yet." Despite his words, need was throbbing low and hot in his own groin, and his breathing was growing rapid and rough.

Leaving his assault on Duncan's balls at last, Methos licked his way up along the cleft of his lover's ass again. Duncan moaned desperately and pushed towards Methos' mouth, his desire blatantly obvious. Finally, Methos relented and touched the tip of his tongue to Duncan's anus.

And stopped.

"Think I can make you come just doing this, Duncan?" Methos asked in a dark whisper that feathered his breath over Duncan's flesh.

Methos heard the ghost of a whimper from his tormented lover before he answered, "I think you could make me come just saying my name like that...oh, Methos!"

The rest of what Duncan was going to say was lost as Methos plunged his tongue deep into his lover's ass and began to fuck him with it in earnest. The taut skin under his hands began to tremble as Methos drove his tongue quickly in and out of Duncan. Tight muscle clenched around his tongue as it entered the narrow channel, and his lips slipped against the smooth, wet skin surrounding it. Methos pressed the cheeks further apart, deepening the contact.

Duncan was shaking and moaning, wordless, heedless passion spilling out his mouth. The hot little hole under Methos' tongue flared and contracted, telegraphing the younger man's need. The steaming water of the shower beat down over Methos' back, but the water might as well not have been there for all the attention that he could give it. Every scrap of his attention was focused on pleasuring Duncan.

Methos' own cock throbbed, neglected and hugely swollen, a sullen reminder of his unfulfilled need pulsing between his legs. But he could wait, just a little longer.

"God, Methos...so close..." Duncan whispered, the tremor in his voice matching the one in his limbs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Almost, almost, almost... The soft, slithery, utterly incomparable sensation of being rimmed by Methos was so close to tipping Duncan over the edge that he could taste the orgasm curling deep inside him. Then the quicksilver tongue was flickering, stopping, firming inside him and he was coming so hard he almost lost his footing on the slippery tile.

The orgasm exploded inside Duncan's head, inside his body, turning his mind, and the world, upside down. Pleasure coursed through his veins, sweet and drugging, melting his bones until he had to slump against the shower wall for support. He was vaguely aware of Methos standing behind him, a hot, smooth body pressed against his own.

And more intensely aware of the blunt hardness nudging at his ass.

Lips settled against Duncan's neck, fluttering sharp, moist little kisses over his skin. He sighed and bared a little more of his neck to the touch, sleepy, sated sensuality making his movements slow and dreamy.

"Ahh...Methos," Duncan breathed, as lips traveled up his neck towards his ear and captured the lobe.

"Come to bed, Duncan," Methos whispered, so close to Duncan's ear his breath was like a warm tongue's caress. "What I want from you I can't get standing up."

The whisper rolled through him like warm honey, and a small part of him questioned what unseen force could be stirring them to such heights of need, of hunger, but he pushed the questions aside. Questions could wait, Methos clearly, could not. Duncan turned to him, meeting his eyes and lifting a hand to stroke the high-boned planes of that beloved face.

"So beautiful," Duncan murmured as he reached down with his other hand to turn off the water. His lover was beautiful, with water clinging to his body like a million jewels, love and desire sparkling in his chameleon eyes.

They stepped out of the shower and Duncan reached for a towel to dry them both, but Methos made it difficult, his hands and mouth were everywhere. He kissed and bit and clutched urgently at Duncan, rubbing the heated length of his cock anywhere he could. At last, Duncan gave up and tossed the towel aside. He barely noticed the cold on his skin as Methos opened the bathroom door and led him out into the loft.

Blindly, Duncan followed his lover across the room to the bed, kissing, fondling, promising with words and lips and exquisite shivering touch. Finally he felt the bed against his legs and sank back into it, pulling Methos down on top of him. Methos was a heavy, silk-smooth weight above him, pressing down him deliciously. He bent his head down to Duncan's and captured his mouth again. Duncan sucked the velvet tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own; setting a rhythm that mimicked the rhythms soon to come.

Methos rolled them over so that Duncan lay on top, hissing as their cocks rubbed together. Duncan tilted his hips and rubbed harder, just to hear that sound again. Methos shuddered beneath him, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out over his pale skin. Duncan left Methos' mouth and slipped down to taste his skin, sipping little kisses from the side of Methos' lovely throat. Strong muscle quivered under his touch and a small whimper escaped, reminding Duncan just how close his lover had to be to his climax. He wasn't surprised when Methos pushed him off to the side and reached for the lube in the side table. His eyes never left Duncan's face as he slicked up his fingers and set the bottle aside. Duncan rolled onto his back and spread his thighs apart.

"Gonna fuck me, Methos?" Duncan asked, a teasing note in his voice.

Methos slid one finger into him, thick and unbearably sweet. "What do you think?" he replied, dark lust in his eyes.

"I think nobody's ever fucked me like you have." Another finger joined the first and Duncan groaned aloud. No more teasing then. Duncan rolled and pressed Methos back into the mattress, rising up to straddle him. Reaching between his legs, Duncan placed the head of Methos' cock at his entrance, locking their eyes as it pushed against his opening. "Oh god, Methos, I love your cock," Duncan moaned as he sank down onto it slowly, inch by exquisite inch, letting the moment and the sensation burn into his flesh. He was full, filled with Methos and his eyes drank in the beauty of the man beneath -- his Methos -- lying there beneath him, gleaming with sweat and glowing with arousal in their bed. He had no idea what had possessed them today, but right now he didn't care.

Then Methos moved, a sinuous surge of contracted muscle that drove his cock deep inside Duncan's body. Duncan gasped and his head dropped back as he gasped again for breath. He leaned back and folded his hands around Methos' calves, just above the luxurious flare of his runner's legs. He was arched, stretched like an overdrawn bow over Methos' prostrate body. And Methos would not be still, the tiny rocking of his hips was sending bright, shimmering sparks flooding through Duncan. He held himself still and let Methos move within him, letting the rippling ecstasy flood through his body.

"Oh fuck, Methos, yes!" Duncan tightened around Methos' cock and sank down once more; unable to hide the triumphant smile that answered Methos' hiss of pleasure.

But, in the blink of an eye, Duncan was drawn close, enfolded in strong arms and rolled onto his back, Methos still deep inside, still fucking him -- harder and deeper than ever now. Broad shoulders held his thighs apart and curled him back on himself. Every thrust pressed hard over his prostate.

"Harder," Duncan moaned.

Methos fucked him harder. So hard the bed shook as if it would fly apart. So hard Duncan felt he would fly apart any second.

"Tell me you love this," Methos rasped.

"Love this...love you..." Duncan answered, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Love your cock inside me, your balls against my ass, and my cock against your belly." He panted breathlessly between his words, knowing that he was babbling, but completely unable to stop the flood. "Come with me, Methos." White-hot desire scorched him, shimmering like heat-haze through his shuddering body.

"Not yet...wait."

"I can't...I can't wait. Methos, please?" Writhing uncontrollably, Duncan clutched at Methos' back, pulling him closer and trapping his own cock between them. He needed to come, so badly, but the thought of taking Methos out over the edge with him was too seductive to ignore. He looked up into Methos' face, waiting for the unmistakable look that would signal Methos' orgasm. He clung desperately to control, riding the waves of flame that burned at his body.

Then Methos' eyes were closed and his face took on that inimitable look of concentration that Duncan knew so well. Heat flooded his gut, and sent him soaring into ecstasy, his heart hammering, body drawn tight, colors exploding behind his eyes. He shuddered uncontrollably as Methos bucked hard into him one last time, then every ounce of strength in Duncan's body seemed to disappear all at once and he went limp beneath his lover. The still-hard cock speared deep at the change of position and Duncan moaned and pulled Methos down onto his heaving chest, gasping for breath.

Arms came down around him, stroking and petting, infinitely soothing in the aftermath of his explosion. Duncan kissed the smooth, pale skin nearest his mouth, and turned his weary head to look into Methos' face once more.

"I love you, Old Man, but one of these days you'll be the death of me," Duncan joked hoarsely. He lifted his hand to brush his thumb softly across parted, deliciously swollen lips, smiling at the tongue that idly chased it.

"Do you mind?" Methos asked, smiling gently.

"Not at all," Duncan answered, lifting his head to press his mouth to his lover's. A brief sweet kiss, and then Methos lifted himself away. He snuggled down alongside Duncan, fitting himself closely to his side and draping an arm over Duncan's chest. Duncan held him close, feeling oddly protective of this beautiful man who owned his heart. There was still something he wanted to say -- to ask -- but he was so very tired.

***

Methos kicked the quilt up from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over himself and his lover. Duncan was warm and relaxed against his side and his breath feathered lightly over Methos' skin with every exhalation. A certain restlessness still moved beneath Methos' skin but he was too exhausted to pay it more than the most cursory attention. He wondered hazily what it was that had stirred them this morning. It was almost like the aftermath of a Quickening, but neither had taken a head in several months. With a mental shrug, Methos drew Duncan closer and went to sleep.

When next Methos woke, the shadows in the loft were long, draping darkness randomly over the large room. Duncan still snored softly against his side and Methos turned his head to brush a kiss softly across warm, full lips. Duncan stirred sleepily, his eyes flickering open and finding Methos' immediately. Smooth hardness nudged at Methos' thigh and he grinned at his horny lover. "Again, MacLeod?"

A hot, sword-callused hand came up to cover Methos' own erection. "Aye, and I'm not the only one, am I?" Duncan teased, stroking twice along Methos' shaft.

Methos thrust lightly in the hand that held him and curled his fingers around Duncan's cock in reply. Duncan inhaled quickly and a small, quick grin twitched at Methos' lip. "Guess not." He thrust again into Duncan's fist. "We probably should...err...go outside sometime today." He wanted to make sense, he wanted to have a rational conversation, but Duncan's hand was slipping along his cock and it was entirely too distracting. He matched the rhythm with his own hand on Duncan's cock.

Duncan gasped and tipped his hips forward into the touch. "We should...Christ that's good Methos...make an appearance at Joe's...oh god  -- just like that-- We did promise...Fuck! You have the most amazing hands...promise to go see him today."

And all the while Duncan's lovely, warm hand was busy driving Methos every bit as insane. His sensual thumb circled over the moist tip and dipped down once in a while to press against the knot of nerves just below the crown. Just the way he liked it. "Not just yet, though," Methos breathed through the fog of his arousal. "Just give me a minute or so to finish something first."

Duncan's reply was equally as breathless. "A minute or so," he agreed, thrusting harder into Methos' hand. "Harder, Methos."

"Yes," Methos whispered, as his eyes closed and the touch of his lover in the dark became the whole world.

Blissful, succulent press of flesh into flesh, the soft whispering of breath through parted lips, the gentle, cottony slip of skin against sheets. The squeeze and pull of a knowing hand. Carelessly perfect pressure.

Methos came with a shudder into Duncan's hand, a little surprised at the ferocity. Duncan spilled seconds later, a blood-warm flood covering his hand in breathless silence. Lazily, Methos opened his eyes, and found Duncan watching him.

"What is it with us today?" Duncan asked huskily, reaching down to the floor to pick up a damp towel and wipe the come from their skins.

"I have no idea," Methos admitted. "It's very strange...almost like a Quickening, only we haven't -- that is I haven't -- have you?"

"No, of course not," Duncan answered quickly, truth in his clear brown eyes. "But if you haven't...and I haven't...then what the fuck is this?" he asked without heat.

Methos could not help but smile; it was such a 'Duncan' thing to do, to look a gift horse in the mouth like this. "Who knows," he smiled cheekily. "Maybe the moon is in Scorpio, or they're putting ginseng in the drinking water these days. Do you really care?" he wanted to know. "Wouldn't you rather have a great deal of hot monkey sex while whatever it is lasts?"

A cocky grin spread over the Highlander's handsome face. "Well, since you put it that way..."

Duncan reached out and started to pull Methos to him, but he evaded the younger man, slipping away with a laugh and a wriggle. "I didn't mean now, MacLeod! We promised to go to Joe's, remember?"

"Shower?" Duncan threw in, the oddest mixture of hope and lust warring on his features.

"Sure," Methos answered easily. Duncan slid across the bed to follow Methos as he got up, lust winning over his face. Methos laughed again. "Separate showers. Otherwise we'll never get out of here."

Duncan's expression was too entertaining for words. He pouted and Methos sauntered off to the shower, feeling hungry eyes on his back.

His hips swayed a little more than strictly necessary as he went.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eventually, they found themselves showered and dressed and ready to leave the loft. Duncan watched Methos from under his lashes as the older man dressed in tight black jeans and t-shirt, suppressing a groan of desire as he watched Methos bend to lace his boots. Duncan smoothed his beige silk t-shirt into the waist of his low-slung blue jeans and buckled his belt. He ran a brush through his hair, but left it loose, blinking innocently at Methos when he noticed and raised an eyebrow.

Damn...

Was there anything Methos could do that wouldn't turn him on today? Duncan gave himself a mental shake and threw up the gate to the lift. He could absolutely do this, he could go out with his lover and see their friends and not spend every second itching to tear that sinfully tight t-shirt from that pale, soft skin and rip the jeans down to his knees and swallow his cock whole. He could. Absolutely.

Methos straightened and stood and fixed his eyes upon Duncan's. He felt the look slither all the way down his spine. Probably. He could probably do this. Methos stepped past him and walked into the lift and the scent that wafted past melted a little more of his resolve. But maybe he could still do this. He followed Methos into the lift and closed the gate. Their bare forearms brushed as they stood side by side.

Nope. He definitely could not do this.

Duncan turned and grabbed his lover and pushed him roughly up against the wall.  Methos' head flew back in surprise, baring his neck, baring all that exquisite skin for Duncan's mouth. And that neck was something Duncan could never resist.

Methos moaned as Duncan's teeth found his throat, a low, delicious sound that vibrated beneath his lips. His hands came up to rest on Duncan's ribs and pull him closer. As Duncan pressed nearer and their hips came together, he could feel the thick ridge of Methos' hard-on through the layers of their jeans. He slipped a hand between them and covered the bulge, spanning it with his fingers and tracing it lightly.

Meanwhile Duncan's mouth was sucking small mouthfuls of fine, pale skin between his teeth, tracing a line from his left ear, over the sweet curve of Methos' larynx, to his right ear. Methos shivered in his arms and pressed his cock towards Duncan's touch. Duncan bit harder one more time, then sank to his knees.

Duncan's hands shook a little as he unbuttoned the tight jeans. Every nerve in his body screamed to have this now -- he could not wait another minute to have the sweet, thick length of Methos' cock in his mouth. The well-worn jeans opened easily to his touch and Methos' cock sprang free. The lack of underwear no longer surprised him, but he looked up gratefully at his lover for a moment.

"I know...I know..." Methos quipped breathlessly. "But thank me later. Just do it, MacLeod." The whisper became a moan as Duncan sealed his lips over the head and gently pushed the foreskin back with his lips and tongue, teasing the slit as he did -- a slow, voluptuous movement entirely at odds with how desperate Duncan felt.

Then he took Methos deep as quickly as he could, swallowing the fleshy head into the back of his throat. He was only vaguely aware of the grinding lift gears and the motion as it carried them downwards. He slid his hands up Methos' hard thighs and held his hips still, swallowing harder. Appreciative little gasps escaped Methos' mouth as Duncan worked over his cock.

Eventually, the need for air forced Duncan to let the shaft slip from his mouth. He nibbled small soft kisses from the tip to the base, sucking tiny mouthfuls of foreskin between his lips as he went. He nuzzled into the crisp curls, then bent his head to the smooth sac to draw one testicle gently into his mouth. It moved and tightened under his touch, he released it and moved to capture the other, mouthing it carefully. Methos whimpered.

His hands knotted in Duncan's hair, guiding him back to the straining shaft. The touch of his lover's dexterous hands on his head sent an extra shiver of delight straight to Duncan's groin. He released Methos' sac with a small, wet pop and licked his way luxuriously up along the older man's cock. He opened his mouth wide and let it slide down his throat again, just as the lift reached the ground floor. The shuddering impact drove Methos' cock even deeper into Duncan's throat.

Methos groaned and his knees almost buckled, Duncan held him up and sucked harder. He was partially aware of Methos lifting a hand to do something above him but he had no idea what it was until he felt the lift begin to rise again. Duncan chuckled faintly around the cock in his mouth. Methos groaned again, pushing against Duncan's hands, clearly desperate to thrust.

Duncan looked up and met his eyes, seeing the raw need clear in the hazel depths. He chuckled again and slipped his hand to cup the curves of Methos' ass. Immediately the older man began to move, groaning a noise that sounded suspiciously like relief as he pushed his cock in and out of Duncan's mouth.

And damn it was good, the slide of the heavy shaft over lips and tongue and palate, the salty burst of pre-cum, the scent of arousal adding to his own. Duncan's cock throbbed in the tight confines of his jeans. Methos wasn't the only one close to coming, he realized, much more of this and he would too. Was there ever a day like this before? Duncan couldn't remember one.

Then Methos' hands moved from Duncan's hair to his face, caressing him gently, tracing the outline of his lips as they stretched around the base of his cock. Duncan rewarded him with a flutter of his tongue along the underside.

"Lovely, lovely mouth," Methos panted in time with his thrusts. His thumbs circled Duncan's mouth again. "Love your mouth. Oh...fuck...so close..." He drifted off into incoherence as he pushed harder into Duncan's mouth.

Duncan held still and let Methos fuck him. Times like this it seemed his mouth was wired directly to his cock; he loved having Methos this way. It wouldn't take much more to make him come. Much more of this fevered, urgent thrusting and it would tip him right over the edge. A deep rumble of pleasure filtered up from Duncan's chest and his balls tightened, drawing up against his body. The lift jolted again as it stopped, bouncing them slightly and pushing Methos' shaft deep once more.

Then Methos was crying out -- coming, hot salty fluid splashing the back of Duncan's throat, and then Duncan was coming and swallowing and coming and forgetting to breathe because it all felt too incredible to stop for something as mundane as oxygen. Dark spots were dancing in front of his eyes before Methos slipped away and Duncan could breathe at last. He was gasping great lungfuls of air into his starved chest when Methos sank down beside him.

Methos tugged him into his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, smoothing damp strands of hair from where they stuck to Duncan's face.

Duncan returned the embrace and laid his head on Methos' shoulder, nodding silently. In a minute or so he'd be able to do something as complicated as speaking but, at the moment, basic movement was all he could manage.

Methos kissed the corner of his mouth. "You're amazing."

Duncan smiled a little and kissed Methos back, just a sweet, soft press of lips that managed to be beautifully eloquent all the same.

"We need to clean up and get going," Methos said, at last.

Duncan nodded again, somewhat reluctantly and struggled to his feet. He held out his hand to Methos, who took it and rose. Methos opened the lift gate and they went back into the loft.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Methos pulled the truck into the parking lot at Joe's half an hour later. They'd barely made it out of the loft. As it was, every look, every inadvertent touch seemed to send them both careening back into the same helpless lust that had possessed them all day. But they were here now, at last. He turned off the engine and took the key out of the ignition, daring a quick glance at Duncan. It was probably a mistake.

Duncan was looking at him, hot-eyed and lips parted. "Damn, you're beautiful, Methos."

Methos smirked; he just couldn't help it, Duncan was too silly sometimes. "There's really no need to use a line on me, Mac. I think today had established with reasonable certainty that I'm yours already. Remember the kitchen? And the bathroom?"

"And the bed and the lift -- I remember. How could I forget? But if you are mine, then I am every bit as much yours...and you are beautiful, Methos." He smiled and leaned across the front seat. "Kiss me?" he murmured, curving his hand around Methos' nape and drawing him near.

Methos closed the rest of the distance between them and sank into the kiss. It was long and sweet and wet, a kiss of lips and tongues and lazy, slow-burning lust. Methos purred deep in his throat and shifted closer.

A thump on the truck roof and a good-natured shout of, "Get a room, guys!" broke them apart.

Methos laughed. "We have a room. We have a whole building, for that matter. Not to mention numerous other homes and hideaways around the world. And yet here we are -- not in any of them. Am I the only one seeing something wrong with that?"

Duncan smoothed his thumb over Methos' lips and answered, "We promised Joe, remember?"

"Ahh...yes. Come on, then. We'd better get in there before you damage my reputation irretrievably."

Duncan snickered rudely and climbed out of the car. Methos followed him, catching up in a few steps and taking hold of Duncan's hand.

"Are you sure this won't be bad for your reputation?" Duncan asked teasingly, lifting their joined hands with a little squeeze.

Methos regarded him from hooded eyes. "I'll survive."

Duncan obviously liked that one. He threw back his head and chuckled loudly and warmly, all the rest of the way inside.

Joe was waiting for them behind the bar, mock impatience on his face. "I was just about to send out a search party for you guys. What kept you?" he asked as he pulled two beers from the tap.

The tips of Duncan's ears turned an endearing shade of red and Methos smirked to himself. "Just...one of those days, Joe. You know how it is," Methos answered with deliberate vagueness as he accepted the drink.

Joe looked at them; narrowing his eyes in that penetrating look that Methos knew so well, and shook his head. He gestured towards the back of the bar. "Well, come on," he said, walking out slowly from behind the bar. "Come and see my new addition."

They waited until Joe was beside them before heading off in the direction he had indicated. In a few steps Methos saw what Joe was so excited about, a postage stamp dance floor set right in front of the stage. He turned to Joe. "It looks great, Joe. Can't wait to try it out." Methos sneaked a look at Duncan to gauge his reaction; this was much more of a mixed clientele than the clubs where they'd been dancing before. But Duncan was smiling back at him as if they were the only two people in the room, squeezing the hand he still held. A shaft of such pure, razor-edged want knifed through Methos that he almost gasped.

Duncan must have seen it in his eyes; he leaned in, tilting his head and speaking close by Methos' ear. "Why don't you get us a table? I'll go back to the bar and get our drinks." Lips ghosted a kiss over his earlobe before Duncan released him and strode away.

Methos stood still for a moment, watching him go. Duncan had a great walk. He didn't come back to himself until he heard Joe snort a laugh and mutter, "Newlyweds."

Methos sent Joe his best look of Death, and stalked off to find a secluded table. After a moment, Duncan sat down next to him, handing over a beer. Between the beer-and-smoke smells of the bar, Methos could still divine his lover's scent, and he breathed it in luxuriously, letting it bathe his senses. Damn the man smelt good.

On stage the band was warming up and they weren't the only ones. A large Scottish hand settled on Methos' thigh, just sitting there, not stroking or fondling or caressing, just there. It was enough. All too familiar need began to throb in Methos' groin. Swallowing hard, Methos placed his hand over Duncan's and lifted it away, setting it carefully on the table. Duncan looked at him with a question in the lift of his heavy brow.

"Not here, not now," Methos whispered, and the pleading tone in his voice was completely accidental. But accurate.

Duncan seemed to understand. He gave Methos' hand a quick pat on the table, then kept his distance. Quite soon the band began to play and their attention, to Methos' vast relief, was diverted. For a little while, at least.

And the band was good, an eclectic mix of blues and rock and old favorites. Methos could feel Duncan's foot tapping under the table. Duncan loved to dance; Methos knew it only too well. "Come on, then, Mac," Methos said, grabbing his lover's hand from the tabletop as he gave in to inevitability. "You know you want to."

Duncan hesitated for a second, his eyes searching Methos' face. Then, he smiled broadly and stood, his hand still clasped inside Methos'. "What are we waiting for?"

The band was easing into a slower number as the stepped onto the floor. Duncan slipped his arms around Methos' waist and pulled him close, swaying gently. Methos' hands rested in the small of Duncan's back, just above his belt. The music soared around and through and into them as they danced together. Duncan was a warm, hard armful of easy grace wrapped in Methos' embrace.

And getting harder by the second, if the bulge brushing over its equal in Methos' pants was any evidence. Methos shifted a little in Duncan's arms, sighing as their cocks brushed again. This really wasn't the time or the place for this but, for now, it felt too good to refuse. Methos lifted his head from where it was resting on Duncan's shoulder and looked into his face.

Duncan's eyes were dark with arousal, his lips red and parted as if asking for a kiss. So very beautiful. "We don't do this nearly often enough," Methos told him.

Duncan leaned in to speak directly into Methos' ear. "What? Fuck like bunnies all day?" he snickered darkly, drawing Methos close so that their cocks brushed more closely.

"Very funny," Methos snarked mildly. "I meant slow dancing. It's...nice." Pathetically inadequate word, but Duncan was short-circuiting his brain more and more with every step.

Duncan smiled, all trace of teasing gone. "Yeah...I know. I love holding you like this. Love you."

Methos rested his head back onto the broad expanse of Duncan's shoulder. "Love you, too," he whispered under his breath.

The music continued and they danced on, never letting go of each other through set after set. All the while the arousal shimmered through Methos' body and he felt it reflected in his lover. There were other people on the dance floor, Methos was sure, but he could not pay them even the slightest attention. Everything he had ever wanted was right here in his arms. For these few moments he could push aside the world, the game and everything and be content. He sighed and held Duncan tighter.

"You okay?" Duncan asked, his mouth wafting hot breath into Methos' ear.

Methos shivered. "Oh yes. Wonderful," he answered quietly.

"Yes...you are."

"There you go again, MacLeod, buttering me up. There really is no need, you know. I'm yours, anytime you want me."

"Anytime?" And Duncan's arms tightened around him, until only their clothes separated them.

The need that had been simmering deep inside Methos surged into full flame at the increased contact. "You do that again," he growled under his breath, "and I'll have you right here on the dance floor."

A teasing light leapt into Duncan's eyes and he squeezed Methos close again, pressing his pelvis into Methos'. "Promise?"

A sound of pure frustration tore from Methos' throat. He stepped back from Duncan, pushing him away firmly. "You're killing me here, Mac. Go sit down -- I think we could both use a break. I'll be back in a minute." He spun on his heel and headed off towards the men's room, clawing a hand through his hair impatiently.

He was in the men's room before he realized that Duncan had followed him. He turned to look at his mate and saw the desire clear on his face. Whatever it was firing this extraordinary need between them today, it would not be denied another minute. With a quick look around the empty room, Methos grabbed him and dragged him into the nearest stall, banging the door behind them and flipping the lock.

Fuck the fact it was an awful cliche, fuck the danger of discovery and embarrassment, fuck it all -- he wanted Duncan now.

In a blind, tearing rush Methos crowded Duncan up against the stall door, his hands frantically tugging at Duncan's clothes. Need shrieked through his whole body, as fresh and sharp as if it was the first time. Every cell in his body screamed for him to bury himself deep inside his lover.

Jeans fell away easily to pool at Duncan's feet while Duncan reached out to free Methos' straining cock from his pants. His fingers fumbled in his haste, brushing over the hard ridge of Methos' erection and making him hiss quietly. "Hurry."

Duncan eased the fly buttons open and wrapped a warm palm around Methos' cock stroking quickly. It was too much. Methos reached up and grasped the broad shoulders and turned Duncan to face the wall, kicking his feet apart. His hands shook as he smoothed them down over the soft cotton that covered Duncan's back, down to the bare flesh of his ass, pressing the cheeks apart. Lovely, lovely arse...

"Just do it, Methos," Duncan whispered, arching into the touch. "Don't fuck around. Just fuck me."

Too aroused for preliminaries, too aroused to do anything but comply, Methos spat into his hand and wiped it quickly over his cock. He leaned forward and guided it into Duncan, gasping as Duncan pushed back onto him. Duncan was relaxed and so very ready, but the heat and the pressure and the friction still took Methos' breath away and he stopped for a moment, tugging his self-control into place as he panted softly.

But Duncan would have none of it -- he rocked his hips back and forth, slowly, fucking himself on Methos' cock. Methos stifled a groan and wrapped his arms tight around his lover, one hand reaching around to grasp Duncan's cock, the other slipping up to silence the breathy little moans coming quickly from his mouth. He held completely still as Duncan rocked in his arms, riding the length of Methos' cock slowly and sweetly.

Velvety flesh slipped through Methos' palm and hot silk enveloped his cock as Duncan rocked. Wet lips suckled his fingers greedily. Too much already, this was going to be over far too quickly. Methos could feel the orgasm gathering at the base of his spine like thunderclouds on the horizon. Still, he remained still, letting Duncan control the pace.

"So close..." Duncan murmured around Methos' fingers. He moved a little more quickly, his ass bumping hard against Methos' groin. Methos squeezed his hand harder around Duncan's cock and felt the groan rumble through him.

The bathroom door banged and footsteps echoed in the breathless quiet. Methos clamped his hand over Duncan's mouth, hissing, "Shush!" under his breath. Duncan was quiet but he would not be still. The incessant rocking grew quicker and more frenzied, exquisite pressure moving over his penis.

Then, with a sharp, quick gasp, Duncan was coming -- a hot spill of fluid into Methos' hand as the spasms wracked his body. Methos buried his face in the back of his lover's neck and followed him over the brink. Sensation... incandescent and so near to pain, but at the same time, so very far from it , rolled through his body taking with it every bit of strength he had. He was spent, heavy and empty and filled to the brim, all at the same time. Methos sagged against Duncan's back, holding him tightly against his chest.

At long last, the intruder's footsteps reversed, disappearing out the door, which banged loudly. Methos let go of the breath he hadn't known he was holding and kissed Duncan's back tenderly. "How do I let you drag me into these things, Highlander?"

Duncan leaned forward and let Methos' cock slip free of his body, moaning a little. He looked over his shoulder at Methos with an expression of mild disbelief. "I dragged you into this? I seem to remember, Old Man, that it was you that did the dragging." Duncan turned at last to face him, amused tolerance clear in his face. "This was all your doing, O Insatiable One," Duncan whispered, turning the phrase into an endearment as he lifted a hand to touch Methos' face gently. "Take me home?"

"I don't know, MacLeod... I don't usually take home men I fuck in toilets," Methos teased while tucking his spent cock into his pants and buttoning his fly.

Duncan was straightening up his own clothes and affecting a quick clean-up. "Men?" he asked, taking the bait beautifully. Jealousy looked good on him, possessiveness even better. Even when it was mostly feigned.

"You know...the guys I pick up at the club, or the baths, or those public toilets on the highway where all the truckers pull up. All those men." Methos grinned impishly.

"Do I need to chain you to the bed to keep you for myself?" Duncan growled, as he crowded Methos back against the wall.

Methos melted into the warm, hard chest. "It's a thought," he replied mock-wistfully. He planted a small quick kiss on Duncan's lips. "Come on, let's get out of here. You decent?"

Duncan smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Well..."

"Covered up, then? Honestly, MacLeod--am I the only one who knows what a slut you are?"

Duncan grinned. "Well actually..."

"On second thought -- I don't want to know," Methos answered with a small snort of laughter.

Still laughing, they finally made it out of the men's room and back into the bar. After a quick goodbye to Joe, who looked at them as if he knew exactly what they had been up to in there -- and probably did-- much to Methos' discomfort. The air was cold on his flushed cheeks as he and Duncan walked back out into the night. He shivered a little in the cold and, without a word, Duncan's arm came up around his waist to hold him close.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They tumbled through the dojo doors, laughing and staggering. The drive home had been a testament to both their powers of innuendo and suggestiveness, not to mention Duncan's reckless streak. Now, they were breathless with laughter and horny as hell at the same time. Duncan made it as far as the benches lining the dojo wall and sat down heavily, his arousal very obvious in his tight jeans. Methos sank to his knees in front of him, still chuckling.

"You're quite insane, MacLeod, you do know that, don't you? That cop could have thrown both our arses in jail, the way you were acting." Methos placed his hands flat on Duncan's thighs and looked up into his face. "You're just lucky he was susceptible to the MacLeod charm."

"Very lucky," Duncan agreed, without a hint of modesty. "I have plans for tonight that don't include spending the night in a cell." He closed the distance between them and covered Methos' mouth with his own, a slow, thorough, utterly sweet kiss that left Methos panting for more.

"Plans?" Methos rasped when Duncan released him.

"Mmm..." Duncan smiled wickedly.

Methos returned the look and slid his hand down the hard planes of Duncan's thighs to stop at his groin. "Something like this, perhaps?" He held Duncan's gaze as he deftly opened Duncan's jeans and released his cock. It sprang free, standing flushed and straight from the tangle of coarse, dark hair. Still drowning in his lover's eyes, Methos bent his head to taste it.

He licked the bittersweet droplet from the tip and moaned as the taste exploded on his tongue. His eyes drifted closed at last and he opened his mouth wider to take more of Duncan in. Just the head, smooth and a little spongy, slipped between his lips, voluptuous and full with peaking arousal. Methos fucked the small slit with the tip of his tongue, making Duncan groan out loud and shift restlessly on the bench.

Me-thos..." Duncan breathed.

Methos puffed warm air over Duncan's flesh in response.

"Ohhh...Methos."

Angling his head, Methos took Duncan's cock into his mouth until his nose was buried in the crisp curls around the base. Just as slowly, he released it.

"Oh...fuck, Methos -- again!"

Methos lowered his mouth over the shaft once more.

Duncan's only reply was a grateful moan.

Methos lifted his head and released Duncan's cock, swirling his tongue around the head sensuously.

A shudder ran the length of Duncan's body, and Methos saw his hands clench at the edge of the bench.

Methos took the length of hard flesh in again, letting it slide over his tongue until the head was lodged right at the back of his mouth. Instead of letting it go, this time he fitted his tongue hard along the underside, flickering against the pulsing vein. With a snaking undulation of his tongue up against Duncan's cock, Methos swallowed hard. Once, twice, three times.

And Duncan came with a shuddering, surprised bellow. His hands flew up to clasp around Methos' head, holding him in place as the spasms took hold. A small amount of come jetted down Methos' throat -- even Immortal regeneration was having a hard time coping with this day. He swallowed again and again, milking Duncan of every drop, as the hot flesh throbbed inside him. Finally, Methos lifted his head and sought Duncan's eyes as he let the cock slip from his lips.

Duncan's eyes were still fixed on him, heavy-lidded and dark now, watching him through lowered lashes. "Damn...you do that well."

Methos leaned across and kissed him briefly, giving Duncan a small taste of himself. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I want you horizontal."

Duncan laughed quickly and stood up, catching Methos' hand and pulling him up as well. "I think that last one killed me," Duncan groaned jokingly. When Methos was upright Duncan's hand went unerringly to Methos' cock where it lay swollen and aching in its denim prison. "But I see your problem. Don't know if I'm in much shape to do anything about it, though."

In spite of himself, Methos moaned. Another touch like that and Duncan wouldn't make it upstairs, he'd find himself flat on his back with his legs in the air and Methos buried balls-deep in his ass. The thought had undeniable appeal, but the dojo was cold and the floor was hard -- too cold and hard to bother with when there was warmth and comfort to be had in abundance up in the loft. "I have an idea or two..." Methos answered, raising an eyebrow at his lover. "And you won't even need to lift a finger."

Duncan put an arm around Methos' waist and they walked to the lift together. As they stepped inside, Duncan leaned into him, his head resting on the side of Methos'. "I am so beat," he said as the lift traveled up to the loft floor. "I really don't think I've got another round in me, Methos."

Methos was tired too, but his erection still throbbed stubbornly in his pants. He turned to face Duncan and murmured silkily. "You'll like this." Methos reached up and ran his fingertip down the stubbled side ofDuncan's face, finishing with a brush over his lips.

The lift shuddered to a halt and they pulled up the gate and stepped out. Methos laid a hand on Duncan's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Duncan turned to look at him, sleepy-lidded satiation clear on his face. Without a word Methos began to undress him, slowly, carefully, removing each piece of clothing with a gentle reverence. After a moment, Duncan began to reciprocate and Methos' clothes fluttered to the floor to join his lover's.

When, at last, they were naked. Methos said to him, "Go lie down on the sofa. I'll be there in a minute."

Duncan didn't move at first. "Come with me," he said. "I want you with me, Methos."

"In a minute. I just want to do something first."

Duncan nodded and stepped in close, pressing a long wet kiss to Methos' mouth. Methos returned it, reluctantly stepping back and sending Duncan on his way with a pat on his bare rear. Methos walked over to the thermostat, switching on a lamp and the radio on the way.

Methos turned the heat up and walked back across the room to where Duncan lay naked on the sofa, a work of art gilded by the low lamplight. The radio played in the background, some moody, bluesy instrumental that seemed to fit the moment perfectly. Duncan held out a hand as Methos came near and Methos took it, easing down to lie on top of him, smiling into his eyes. "You just lie there and relax and let me take care of everything."

Duncan was warm and hard beneath him and the arousal that had burned under Methos' skin all through this strange day flared higher. Methos slid his hands up along Duncan's body and pinned his shoulders. He felt the acquiescence flow through Duncan's body like a warm tide.

"Mmmm..." Duncan moaned, letting his head fall back loosely, baring the golden column of his neck to Methos' mouth.

Methos licked a broad swathe from jaw to collarbone, found the sweet lower curve of Duncan's larynx and bit firmly. Duncan shuddered and began to grow hard beneath him. Such a surprise this submissive side to Duncan, this part of him that ached to be held down and taken. And Methos loved it, loved the feel of coiled power under his hands, the exquisite responsiveness of Duncan's body, but most of all the utter trust that Duncan showed, allowing Methos to take control like this.

Methos caught up Duncan's hands as they rested on the sofa and pressed them up above the younger man's head, leaving them crossed at the wrist, knowing that they would stay there until he moved them. Duncan sighed and wriggled a little beneath him. The full lips were sweet and soft against his own as Methos kissed his lover deeply. Lazy, languid, mind-drugging kisses that went on as if they had forever to kiss like this.

Methos felt Duncan melt even further into that state of pure responsiveness that marked his surrender. It was like moving underwater, every movement slow and easy. Time elongated, slowing as Methos slipped down the smooth, golden body, pausing to torment the small hard nipples nestled in amongst the soft hair of Duncan's chest. The little pebbled nubs were firm on his tongue and so sensitive that every graze of his teeth, every caress of lips and tongue brought a moan or a gasp. A fine sheen of sweat covered Duncan's skin by the time Methos was ready to move on.

He slid back up along Duncan again, aligning their bodies, aligning their leaking cocks with one hand, stroking them together. The hot, hard length of his lover matched him so precisely they might have been made just for each other. Perhaps they had been, he mused, as he began to move at last. Duncan was so perfect against him, he felt so good, so inutterably right. A deep shudder ran through the younger man as Methos began to move faster.

"Methos, please," Duncan rasped, beginning to undulate beneath him.

The wrists that Methos had settled above Duncan's head at the beginning remained obediently where they had been placed, and they drew Methos' eye now. He slipped his hands up along the tender underside of Duncan's arms until he reached the fine, strong wrists crossed and as still as if they were tied. Methos ran his thumbs over the bounding pulse-points, feeling them quicken as he lowered his mouth to taste his lover again.

As their hips ground against each other and their mouths drank deeply, Methos continued to rub small circles over Duncan's wrists. He felt the tension grow in Duncan's body, felt the keen edge of desperation in the noises escaping around their kisses and knew Duncan was close. He wouldn't be far behind; the orgasm was coiling hotly in his belly even now.

Duncan broke the kiss, arching into a wordless plea that bowed his body and thrust him hard against Methos. Methos' hands tightened around Duncan's wrists and then they were coming together, sobbing and shouting, spilling hotly over each other, still rocking as the spasms subsided. At last they were still, except for the deep, shuddering breaths moving hotly in and out of their heaving chests. Methos realized that he still held Duncan's wrists in his hands, tight enough to bruise. He released them, stroking gently in apology, then drawing them down to Duncan's sides as he lay limply over the younger man's body.

They were kissing lazily as the news began on the radio, and Methos gave half an ear to listening to it.

"In other news, scientists today reported heightened levels of sunspot activity. This phenomenon had long been associated with unusual behavior in animals, particularly males."

Methos lifted his head and looked at Duncan, matching the raised eyebrow with his own.

"You think?" Duncan asked, smiling wryly.

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Naaahh..."
 

The End

 Back to Contents

Send Feedback

Author's Notes: This little foray into smutdom was my entry in the HLCrossroads 2001 Hot Stuffies Contest. The criteria were that the story had to be plot-free (check!), and hot (well that one's up to you).It didn't win, but it came second and I had fun writing it.  esjay:)