|Two Men and a Television
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to three guys named Rysher, Panzer, and Davis, but, as Pumpkin says, "dream, a girl can."
Summary: Duncan and Methos watch cable TV.
Notes: This is all Kamil's fault. She claims she's willing to take the heat for it; we'll see. (she is <g>)
In any case, I do want to thank her for the vids which inspired it, and for playing insert the missing comma, and, most importantly, her friendship.
And I can't say she didn't warn me about letting the muses watch Queer As Folk. Something about my Orallyfixated!Duncan choking himself to death on silicone.
Methos leaned back into MacLeod's couch with a sigh. It was over for another week. Now that the credits were rolling, his attention broadened, taking in the man who was glaring at him from the other end of the couch.
"You might want to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips."
"What's your problem, MacLeod?"
"Don't you find this infatuation with an actor a little embarrassing?"
"He's gorgeous. I like watching him. What's to be embarrassed about?" The man in question played Brian, on Queer as Folk, the American version, and he had soulful eyes, and the most delightful mouth.
"Stewart was much sexier."
Stewart, the British version of Brian's character, had never held much attraction for Methos. "A skinny, dark-haired Welshman?" Methos shrugged. "There's no accounting for taste, I suppose."
"Come on. Don't tell me you didn't notice the way he moved."
"Brian has nowhere near that level of charisma."
"The man has the most fuckable mouth in Christendom."
"In Christendom? No one's used that expression since the Middle Ages."
"Doesn't make his mouth any less fuckable."
"I've seen better."
"This morning. When I looked in the mirror."
Methos couldn't help it. He laughed. "Nice to see your ego is so healthy."
"It's not ego. Several people have waxed poetic about this mouth."
Connor. "He didn't. He wouldn't."
"Of course not. But he did get drunk one night, and go on at some length about what a shame it was that I was his student."
"Because he wanted your mouth."
Methos shook his head. "Who else?"
"Brian Cullen. One of the reasons I left him. He was getting a bit obsessive about it."
"Never wanted to do anything else, huh?"
"That, and his drug use was getting out of hand."
"So is that it? Connor and Brian Cullen?"
"There were others, but no one you'd know."
"So, is it just that your mouth looks fuckable, or are you actually good at it?"
"Hoping I'll offer to prove my skill?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Let me think about it. Do I want a man who has been bragging for the last five minutes about his fellating skills to give me a blow job?" Methos gazed pointedly at Duncan's mouth for a moment, and then raised his eyes to Duncan's. "Yeah, I want you to prove it."
"And if I'm as good as I claim?"
"What if that's not what I want?"
"What do you want?"
"To fuck you." Duncan leaned closer to his friend. "You've been wandering around in those ass-hugging jeans with that 'come fuck me' strut of yours for years now, and quite frankly, it's time to either put out, or start walking like a normal human being."
Methos chuckled, and leaned forward himself, bringing their faces within an inch of one another. "So," he said, voice low and dangerously soft, "you blow me, and if you do it well enough, you get to fuck me."
"What are you waiting for?"
Duncan stood and pulled Methos to his feet beside him. "Strip. Then get in the bed."
"You're not just gonna open my pants and get to it, huh?"
Duncan shook his head. "Didn't you ever read Aristotle's Poetics?"
Methos stared at him, startled. "A time or two."
"A good blow-job is like good drama," Duncan leaned close to Methos' ear and lowered his voice, "It starts small and builds."
Methos pulled back in surprise, turning to look directly into Duncan's face.
Duncan's entire face was involved in his grin. It was both irritatingly self-confident and sexy as hell. "Strip, Methos, or do you need help?"
"I can manage." He pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it onto the couch behind him. Quickly undoing his jeans, he pushed them and his boxers past his knees, and then sat back on the couch to remove his socks and shoes.
"Most people find it easier to remove the shoes first."
"What are you complaining about? They're coming off."
"It wasn't a complaint, just an observation. You can undress in any unnecessarily complicated manner you like."
"Thanks. I'll remember that." Naked, Methos rose and walked to the bed, conscious of Duncan's eyes on him. 'Come fuck me' strut, he did not have a 'come fuck me' strut. As a matter of fact, he didn't strut at all. His gait was relaxed, kind of lose-limbed. "I don't have a 'come fuck me' strut," he said suddenly.
"My walk. It's not"
Duncan took hold of his shoulders. "Get in the bed, Methos."
"What are you going to do?"
"Watch you get in the bed."
Methos crawled onto the bed, and Duncan watched him. Duncan watched him with a hunger that made him squirm, that made him think he might just have been outmaneuvered. How long had Duncan been watching his ass? And why hadn't Methos noticed?
His eyes on Methos' face, Duncan reached for the top button of his shirt. He opened it, moved onto the next one. The pace was neither hurried nor slow, it was confident. That shouldn't have surprised him, the Highlander had always had an abundance of confidence. Methos was convinced he'd been praised too much as a child. His hand was sliding between the open sides of his shirt as he moved it to the next button. Definitely too much praise. In fact, Methos wasn't even sure confident was the right word, arrogant was probably far more accurate.
Of course, his mouth was curling in a way that made it look highly fuckable.
Duncan pulled the ends of his shirt out of his pants, and slid it off his shoulders. He raised one foot and rested it on the edge of the bed, untying his shoe and removing both shoe and sock. He repeated the process on the other side. He smiled slyly. "It really does work better this way."
"You say to-may-to, I'll say to-mah-to."
"You won't remember the word when I'm done with you, let alone care how it's pronounced."
"Overconfidence isn't sexy, it's irritating."
Duncan stood up and pulled open his belt. Watching Methos, he slid out of his pants and boxers in one graceful movement, continuing onto the bed and kneeling on all fours over Methos. "Is it?"
"Yes." Duncan made no effort to move, and Methos fought the urge to squirm. "So when does the great MacLeod blow-job begin?"
"As I said, it starts slowly. A kiss here, a touch there, starting on places like your neck, your shoulders, and working inward." He began to stroke the side of Methos' neck. An intake of breath caused him to pause, move his fingers back over the spot. "Sensitive?" Duncan grinned, even though Methos didn't answer. "Good." He replaced his fingers with his mouth. He started slowly, gently bringing the flesh into his mouth and then releasing it. He repeated the action over and over, sucking a little bit harder each time, until Methos was groaning. He backed off slowly, gradually easing the suction.
If this was anything like what he was going to do to Methos' cock, he just might have the most fuckable mouth ever, Methos thought.
"Like that?" Duncan asked quietly.
Arrogant bastard. "It was okay."
"If at any point I disappoint, just let me know." Duncan's grin made it clear what he thought the chances of Methos being disappointed were.
Before Methos could think of a suitable retort, Duncan's grin was gone. It was gone because Duncan's mouth was too busy doing other things. Other things which involved Methos' own lips, and Methos couldn't deny that it felt good, very good, to have his upper lip tugged gently between Duncan's fuller ones, and then released so that his lower lip could receive the same treatment. The gentle tasting was followed with mild rhythmic suction, and then his lips were parted, or maybe they parted on their own, and Duncan's tongue was sliding into his mouth, teasing, playing, and leaving him panting for more.
And more he got. Duncan's second kiss was less playful, more intent. A firm tongue brushed his own, danced with it, and then withdrew. A lip was recaptured, and the rhythm applied to it enticed his hips into movement, and then the tongue returned and his arms were closing around Duncan's neck, pulling him closer, and Methos no longer cared how arrogant the man was, as long as he didn't stop.
But he did. The lips left his, and trailed along his jaw, down to his ear, and then suction returned in this new location, and how had the man known about his earlobes?
The mouth was on the move again, down the side of his neck, and a hand was curling over his ribs, and sliding down to his waist, before returning upward. Duncan shifted to the side, giving his hand access to part of Methos' chest. Broad fingers were tracing patterns on his skin, skating dangerously close to both nipple and groin. The mouth was still at work on his neck, and Methos had to admit Duncan was doing well. Better than well, he acknowledged as those fingers at last connected with his nipple, and a groan escaped before he could contain it.
Duncan must have liked the sound, because he released Methos' neck and seized his nipple instead. There was no teasing, just warm, firm suction, and Methos arched into it. Duncan sucked his flesh with the same easy rhythm he'd applied to neck and lips, and Methos' whole body wanted to move with that rhythm, to be swallowed in three quarter time.
A hand clutched his ass, pressing him tighter against Duncan, pressing his cock into Duncan's chest. The hair and skin there made a most pleasant combination, and Methos found himself pushing just a little bit closer, and then relaxing and pushing closer again, all in time to Duncan's sucking.
Abruptly Duncan released his nipple, surging upward to recapture his lips. Apparently Duncan had lost patience with teasing, because there was no teasing in this kiss either, just a full frontal assault of lips and tongue. It was hungry, demanding, and damn, it excited him. Methos matched Duncan's hunger with his own, met Duncan's demands with ones of own. They were tugging on one another, trying to claw their way closer, and soon they were back to their earlier position with Duncan on top of him, their bodies perfectly aligned.
It was a position their cocks seemed to like. At least, that's what one would assume from the way they were humping one another. Hips thrusting and tongues entangling, aggression and passion and need, all mixed together, and all just there, out in the open.
Duncan pulled away, raising himself onto his arms over Methos. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at his lover.
Methos grinned. Apparently he wasn't the only one getting more than he'd bargained for. He reached up and traced his thumb across Duncan's lower lip. "Suck me, Duncan. Take me into that damn sweet mouth of yours, and suck me."
Duncan opened his mouth and took in Methos' thumb. He sucked it lightly, scraping it with his teeth as he drew his mouth back, releasing it. He smiled slowly and shifted his position, kneeling between Methos' legs.
He pushed Methos' legs further apart, and Methos allowed himself to be rearranged into whatever position Duncan wanted. Then he just stared. He stared for long moments, studying the body in front of him. Methos started to comment, but something in Duncan's expression made him stop. Duncan met his gaze, and there was more than lust in those eyes, but before Methos could decide just what it was he'd seen, Duncan was leaning forward.
He bypassed Methos' cock entirely, starting with his perineum. A brief touch of tongue to his entrance reminded him of what was still to come. The touch was followed by a slow sweep of tongue upward to the base of his testicles. The loose skin of his scrotum was drawn between those outrageously soft lips and tasted, sucked, and released; small pieces of it receiving the same treatment over and over again. Then an entire testicle, cradled gently in Duncan's mouth, caressed with pokes from his tongue and the sweetest, almost not there, suction Methos could imagine.
By the time Duncan finished with his testicles, Methos' entire body was taut with anticipation. He cried out when Duncan tilted his head and sucked at the underside of his cock near the base. Duncan inched his way up the backside, sucking, drawing whatever skin he could between his lips.
Duncan was there now, the place just below the head. He knew it was a collection of nerve endings, had to know; Methos couldn't think of a way he couldn't know, but what did the arrogant bastard do? He paused. Methos held his breath, waiting. The tip of a tongue, warm and far too brief. Another touch from the same source. Another. Another. And then suddenly, blissfully, suction. Methos almost came.
But it didn't matter, because warmth was covering the head of his cock, drawing him in deeper and deeper. The head of his cock brushed the back of Duncan's throat, sliding along it. He was all of the way inside Duncan MacLeod's mouth. He looked down. Duncan's lips were against his groin.
He groaned. Duncan began to move upward, applying nice even suction as he went. Methos groaned again. Duncan went all the way to his glans, pausing to tease it with his tongue before resuming his downward journey. The sound Methos made this time was unclassifiable.
The rhythm Duncan set was slow, maddeningly slow, and when Methos moved his hips in an effort to speed it up, Duncan took hold of them and held him against the mattress. All he could do was lay there and accept what Duncan chose to give him.
The hands on his hips added to his arousal and he thrust anyway, knowing Duncan wouldn't let him move.
He was so close and the suction was so sweet, the slow stroking of Duncan's mouth and throat more so. Duncan was teasing his glans again, and Methos thrust helplessly against the hands on his hips, wanting desperately to plunge into Duncan's mouth. Unexpectedly, the hands were removed and he was plunging, thrusting up into that enticing moisture. Unable to stop himself he did it again. He was fucking Duncan's mouth. But not for long, he came on the third thrust, spurting helplessly, hips once again in Duncan's control as the other man seized them in self-defense.
His hips were flat against the bed now, and his breathing was starting to even out, his pulse slowing. Duncan's head was resting on his hip, the tip of his cock still between the other man's lips, a sight both touching and amusing.
"You win. You have the most fuckable mouth in creation."
Duncan lifted his head, smiled. "Creation? That's larger than Christendom."
Methos couldn't help but return the smile. "Yeah, it is."
Duncan moved, settling on his side next to Methos on the bed. He cupped one of Methos' cheeks in his hand. "Ready for the fucking?" Methos nodded.
"Good. I have wanted this for so long," Duncan said softly, just before he brought their lips together.
The increasingly familiar taste of Duncan combined with the slightly bitter flavor of his own semen in a delightful blend. Duncan was kissing him lightly and Methos deepened it, rolling onto his side, closer to the other man, deeper into his warmth. Duncan started to pull back, but Methos placed his hand on the back of Duncan's head, stopping him. He kissed the other man slowly, exploring and tasting, feeding the ache he knew Duncan had to be feeling. When he at last released him, Duncan stared at him with undisguised longing.
"Lube?" he asked gently.
"There should be something in the stand."
Methos nodded, and rolled over to rummage through the nightstand drawer. A silicone plug, a set of nipple clamps, one of those vibrator attachments for penises. MacLeod clearly had more varied tastes than Methos had imagined. But then Duncan had just proven that. A black bottle in the back of the drawer caught his attention and he grabbed it.
Rolling back over, he squirted some of the liquid onto his palm, and then reached for Duncan's hand. Smiling at Duncan's bemused expression, he coated the other man's fingers and drew them between his legs, to his opening. "Prepare me, Duncan."
Duncan shuddered visibly.
"I want you. I want to feel you inside me, taking me, fucking me." He pushed one of Duncan's fingers into himself.
Methos was leaning forward again, shifting one leg up onto Duncan's hip to give him better access. "Do it," he whispered against Duncan's lips, just before he re-initiated their kiss.
Duncan obeyed. The finger he'd pushed just barely inside moved deeper; its movements timed perfectly with those of Duncan's tongue. Both his mouth and his ass were being explored with the same careful persistence, underscored with a desire so strong it was palpable in the air around them.
Methos encouraged him. He relaxed around the questing fingers, wishing he could move against them, and he answered Duncan's kisses with his own less careful, more urgent ones, not taking but offering, offering more of himself than he had believed himself still capable of giving.
A second finger joined the first, and he cried out.
"I'm sorry." Duncan started to withdraw. "I didn't..."
Methos shook his head. "You didn't. Don't stop." He brushed his lips against Duncan's. "I want more." Another brief kiss. "Please."
"Methos, I... I don't have much control left."
"Good. You said you'd fuck me and that's what I want, to be fucked."
Duncan withdrew his fingers. "Get on your hands and knees."
Methos assumed the requested position, anticipation filling him. Duncan groaned softly as he prepared himself, and the sound made Methos even harder.
The head of Duncan's cock was against his entrance, warm and firm. He pressed back, taking it inside, heard Duncan gasp.
Strong hands seized his hips once again. But the intent was different this time. Duncan wasn't going to stop him from moving; Duncan was going to move him. He was pulled backward, and Duncan sank slowly into him.
Such a simple thing, and it left him completely exposed.
Duncan was leaning over him, his forehead resting on Methos' back, and Methos could feel him trembling.
"It's okay, Duncan."
"I know." A brief kiss to his back, and then Duncan was upright again, and he was moving Methos' hips forward off his cock, and Methos whimpered at the loss, suddenly afraid Duncan would withdraw completely.
But he didn't, he drew Methos back again. Forward, once more, and he was lost in Duncan's rhythm.
They were both shaking with arousal, but Duncan kept the same easy rhythm. Methos didn't quite understand it, how he'd gotten so close again, so fast, but quite frankly, he didn't care. All he cared about was the cock moving inside him, Duncan MacLeod's cock. The one that was filling him so perfectly, full up, right to the rim.
The rhythm was changing, and he could feel MacLeod's control slipping. He wanted it to slip. He didn't want three quarter time, he wanted a drum solo, fierce pounding that just got fiercer.
A hard thrust, timing off.
Another hard thrust. Duncan was jerking him back and forth now, frantic. Methos' hand sought his own cock, but he needn't have bothered. Duncan pounded him wildly, and then stopped, his fluid spurting into Methos' ass. That was all it took. That sensation. The knowledge that Duncan was coming inside him, and Methos was over the edge himself.
Duncan settled them back onto their sides, and Methos nestled happily into his warmth, enjoying the feel of strong arms around him.
"Joe warned me not to watch that show with you." Duncan's words sent warm breath trailing across his skin.
"Hmmm." Duncan lazily kissed the back of his neck. "Said that you and I and homoeroticism were a dangerous combination."
Methos chuckled. "He was right."
"Good." Methos kissed the forearm under his chin. "I do have one request."
"Next time, I want to be on top." Methos looked over his shoulder, grinned. "Cause that Brian guy's ass is nowhere near as fuckable as yours."
"You think so, huh?"
"Oh, yeah, those long coats are one of the things I hate about not being able to just wear our swords openly; they obstruct my view."
"And for the record, I am not the only one who struts around in ass-hugging jeans."
"I wasn't sure you'd noticed."
"Nice to know it was worth it."
"A couple of them are a little uncomfortable."
"You wore uncomfortable jeans so I'd notice your ass?"
"Yeah." Duncan tried not to sound sheepish, failed utterly.
Methos rolled over to face him, his mouth twitching as he tried not to grin. "Why, Duncan, I'm touched."
"That was the idea. So," Duncan paused and grinned mischievously, "What did you think of those dildos?"
Startled, Methos stared at him for a moment. Then he began to laugh. "Frightening, MacLeod, frightening."
"Me, or the dildos?"