The Friendly Skies
by Ashlyn Donnchaid

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is just a little something the guys told me as we sat in the first class cabin on an airplane. They got a kind of faraway look and said, "You remember that time..." and I took notes as fast as I could.

1. The Flight Out

They stood up as their flight was finally called for boarding. As they walked onto the plane they realized the cabin was almost empty. They asked if it mattered where they sat and were told, no, they only had to keep their assigned seats during takeoff. When the plane was in the air and the seat belt sign was off, they found a deserted row in the back and made themselves comfortable. They had booked the red-eye and both men were more than a little sleepy. They'd grabbed several of the inadequate airplane blankets, and Methos had put up the arm rests between all the seats. He lay down across the row, pillowed his head on MacLeod's thigh, pulled a blanket over himself and promptly went to sleep. MacLeod reclined his seat and closed his eyes, dozing off with one arm draped comfortably over his companion's chest.

The dream he was having was a lovely one. The mouth that was around him was warm and wet. He wasn't erect yet, but with the urging of those lips and that tongue he would be soon. He reached his hand down and ran his fingers into the short silky hair on his lover's head, caressing and encouraging at the same time. As the slow stimulation continued, he gradually became aware that he wasn't dreaming. Methos had turned so he was lying facing MacLeod and had pulled a blanket strategically over his own head and MacLeod's lap. He'd opened Mac's slacks and taken him into his mouth, suckling gently, then teasing with his tongue, then squeezing with his lips. The combined sensations, along with the thrill he felt at the danger of being caught in such a position soon had him hard and aching, wanting to be able to thrust into the depths of Methos' mouth.

Instead, he kept still, knowing that even on as deserted a plane as this one, and even though it was the middle of the night and most of the other passengers were asleep, too much activity would draw unwelcome attention to themselves. He settled for moving his hand up Methos' back to his neck, massaging in rhythm with the sucking on his cock.

'Not enough.' his mind kept insisting, 'not nearly enough.' He was full and throbbing and the soft lips and tongue on him were too still. As if his thoughts had been heard, Methos brought his hand to the base of his shaft and began stroking steadily and firmly. It was exactly what he needed. He lay his head back and closed his eyes, his hands on Methos' head flexing in time with the strong fingers that squeezed and urged him toward his climax. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out as he came, the long pulsing spasms sucked deeply into Methos' throat. His orgasm spent, he sat quietly, his fingers on his lover's head and neck caressing gently, sending wordless messages to his friend.

Methos lay still, keeping MacLeod's slowly softening cock in his mouth. Eventually he let it slip from his lips and nestled it back into its owner's briefs, then fastened his slacks and zipped up his fly. Placing one kiss against the fabric he'd closed over MacLeod, Methos rolled over once again, lacing his fingers with those of the hand across his body and went back to sleep.

MacLeod gripped the fingers firmly and smiled, already making plans of his own for their return flight.

2. The Journey Home

It had been a long week of unending business meetings for MacLeod, but it was finally over and they were headed home. He didn't even really know why Methos had agreed to come along on this trip, but he wasn't going to question it. Being able to go back to the hotel each night and find his lover there waiting for him had been the only bright spot in the dismal week of meetings and dinners. At last, the papers had been signed, the deals finalized and they'd made reservations for the first flight out early the next morning.

The jumbo jet was in the air, engines droning as it winged its way westward. MacLeod was restless and had gotten up from his seat and started prowling through the aircraft. Methos had decided to accompany him. They wandered slowly through the cabin, then up the stairs to the First Class lounge. At that hour of the morning, there were no passengers in the lounge and only one flight attendant, who left when they indicated they didn't need anything.

As soon as they were alone, MacLeod took Methos in his arms and kissed him soundly. The older immortal returned the kiss, then pulled back slightly and looked at MacLeod with amusement.

"What was that for?"

"Just to say thank you. The only thing that got me through those dreary dinners this week was knowing you were there waiting for me." He traced Methos' jaw and lips with his fingers. "I don't know why you came along, but I'm sure glad you did."

"Didn't have anything better to do," he answered with a little grin. "And it sounded like you could use the company."

"That's not all I could use." MacLeod let go of Methos and went quickly to the entrance to the lounge and pulled the curtain across the doorway, then put up the sign that read 'Lounge Closed.' Moving back to Methos, he took him in his arms again. "You think that'll keep them out long enough?"

"Long enough for what?"

"This." He kissed Methos softly over one eye, then the other, then brushed his lips along his jaw line and to his ear, sucking gently on the lobe, then moving to the pulse point on his neck, and lingering there. Methos reached a hand into MacLeod's hair, releasing the tie that kept it bound, then arched his neck as he held MacLeod's mouth against him. Gentle lips and nips drifted down his neck to the hollow at the base of his throat. He moaned softly and slid his hand to the back of MacLeod's neck as he pressed himself against the other man.

MacLeod felt the vibration from Methos' throat on his lips and moaned quietly in response. He slid his hands under Methos' sweater and up across his broad back, enjoying the soft warmth of the older man's skin. Moving away just a little, he slipped the sweater over Methos' head, then ran his hands over the lean chest.

"You think this is a good idea?" Methos asked as he reached for the buttons on MacLeod's shirt, unbuttoning each one carefully, sliding his hand over the skin he exposed as each one opened.

"Oh yes," MacLeod replied, reaching for the older man's jeans. "Maybe not wise, but definitely a good idea." He unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. Methos slipped off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, then reached for MacLeod again.

"Just remember whose idea this was if we get caught." He grinned as he slipped MacLeod's shirt off his shoulders and unfastened his slacks, sliding the slacks and briefs down. MacLeod took off his shoes then the slacks and underwear. Methos took his face in his hands and kissed him, then stooped to pick up the clothes and lay them across a chair. "We can't look too rumpled. People will talk."

The hazel eyes twinkled with a combination of amusement and desire as he moved against MacLeod, fitting himself against the length of the other man, his hands caressing the expanse of his back and the firm buttocks. Their mouths met in a soft kiss that deepened as their tongues met and searched while their hands did the same, running over each other's bodies, then holding on as they pressed against each other.

MacLeod pulled away enough to look around the lounge, then looked at Methos with a question. "Floor?"

Methos surveyed the area quickly, then nodded. "Floor."

Guiding him to the rug, MacLeod urged Methos onto his back, then stretched out next to him, resting on one elbow as he slid one leg between Methos' legs, leaning over him to capture their cocks between them at the same time he captured the older man's mouth in a kiss.

He ran his fingers along Methos' shoulder and across his chest, following the definition of the lean muscles until he reached the flat nipples, running his thumbnail around each one gently until they were tight nubs. His hand continued downward across the smooth skin of the older man's firm belly. He shifted slightly to allow himself access to Methos' erection, and traced its length with his fingertips. As he continued, Methos' hips pushed upward against his hand, asking for stronger stimulation.

MacLeod's mouth followed the path his fingers had traveled, tongue and lips trailing hot kisses down his neck and across his chest, stopping only to graze his teeth over the erect nipples. He chuckled deep in his chest as Methos arched his back against the onslaught and twined his fingers in MacLeod's hair, urging him to continue. He kissed and nibbled his way down Methos' belly to join his hand on his aching shaft, running his lips and teeth along its length.

Moving lower, he took first one, then the other testicle in his mouth, sucking each one in turn, then sliding his lips up Methos' cock to the head, swirling his tongue over the tip to gather the fluid there, then moving down to take him deeply into his mouth, suckling strongly as he did. He drew his teeth along the hard flesh back up to the tip and repeated the motion, down, then up slowly and steadily.

Methos lay with his head back, his eyes closed and his mouth barely open as he groaned deep in his chest at MacLeod's assault on his body. Both his hands were caught in the long dark hair as his hips thrust upward into the sweet torture chamber that was MacLeod's mouth. A soft whimper escaped his lips as MacLeod took his mouth off him and hands urged him to roll onto his belly. His thought of protest was stilled as MacLeod reached into the pocket of the slacks that were draped over the chair and retrieved a small tube. He reached up into MacLeod's hair and pulled him down for a quick kiss.

"I love Boy Scouts."

He settled back onto the floor as MacLeod ran his hands over his back to his waist, then down over the taut buttocks, caressing the round flesh until he felt Methos push against his hands. He slid his hands to the other man's hips and pulled him onto his knees, then moved so he was kneeling behind him.

Methos felt the cool gel on his buttocks and MacLeod's warm hand on the small of his back. First one finger, then a second gently probed and prepared him and he purred deep in his throat as he rocked against the stimulation. When the fingers were removed he braced himself to accept the larger invader to come, gasping once as he was breached, then moaning as he felt himself filled, pushing back to take MacLeod in fully. Hands on his hips held him as MacLeod settled back to sit on his heels, holding Methos close to him as he did.

One arm wrapped around his chest, holding him firmly against MacLeod, another hand reached to curl around his cock, stroking slowly in time with the motion of the hips behind him. He felt soft lips and teeth on his neck and shoulder, and he turned his head to meet MacLeod's mouth in a passionate kiss, tongue thrusting in the same rhythm with the movement in the rest of his body. His hands moved to cover MacLeod's, fingers twined with the hand across his chest, his other hand over the one on his erection urging a faster tempo.

Hips, hands and mouth surrounded his body with sensations. He let the combination of feelings steal his control from him. He felt his orgasm like an electric charge, starting at his toes and building as it approached the center of his body, exploding into their hands in long pulses.

The feel of his lover coming in and around him pushed MacLeod over the edge, and he buried his cry in Methos' shoulder as he climaxed in huge spasms, filling the other man with his heat.

They were still for a few moments as their bodies calmed. Thighs that trembled in protest finally convinced them to move, Methos shifting first to separate them and then stand, offering his hand to MacLeod to pull him to his feet. They grasped wrists as he pulled the younger man to his feet and then into an embrace. He reached to smooth back the strands of hair that were stuck to the film of sweat on MacLeod's brow, then kissed him gently and lingeringly, stepping back reluctantly.

"We'd better get dressed and get out of here. We don't want to press our luck." He moved to the stack of clothes, handing MacLeod his shirt and slacks and pulled on his own jeans and sweater and shoes. When they were dressed, he tried to help MacLeod straighten his hair, but they gave up, and let it lie loose and tangled on the broad shoulders.

They pulled back the curtain at the door of the lounge and took down the 'closed' sign, and made their way down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs they passed a very puzzled looking flight attendant. They shared a look and chuckled together. MacLeod leaned close to whisper in Methos' ear.

"I think I'll make sure you can go with me on all my business trips."

The End (or so they tell me...)
July 1997