Authors Note: Many thanks to Robin Serrano for unflagging support while I was writing this. Any and all good points are due to her support and influence; the goofs and problems belong solely to me. A big thank you to Suze for her invaluable advice and wisdom regarding fingers, etc. Duncan owes her one as well. <wg>
Tykes and Consequences, written by Kamil, Robin Serrano and ZorroRojo, can be found here http://www.slashcity.com/kamil/ktrek/ktrek.htm
Addendum: This is back on the web because Melina insisted-if you enjoy it, you have her to thank as well. Speaking of which...thanks, Melina! <g> I really appreciate the lovely things you said.
Duncan stirred restlessly in his sleep; something was teasing and twitching at him. Some noise, some unknown sensation was running coaxing fingers along his awareness, pulling him out of his wonderful haze. Duncan reached out for Methos' body; he wanted to snuggle back into Methos' warmth and slide into delicious unconsciousness. Sleep-fogged, Duncan reluctantly drug his way towards the land of the living.
"Methos? Where'd you go?"
"What makes you think I went somewhere, Highlander?" Methos' lazy voice reassured Duncan, a soothing caress along his senses.
Duncan made an effort to stay aware long enough to retrieve Methos; he wanted that sleek warmth pressed tight alongside his own body. "Come're," he grumbled. "I'm getting cold."
The silky laugh greeting Duncan's request didn't do a single thing to soothe his rest-but it went a long ways towards waking him up. Duncan had known Methos for almost four-hundred years, and after all this time he knew Methos' moods better than he knew his own. Apparently, Methos wanted to play. Sweet fire slid through Duncan's body, curling inside him, settling low in his belly. Fingers of sensation stretched low and wound around Duncan's cock, twining themselves around his balls.
Blinking his eyes open to the seductive, sensual laughter bouncing softly off of the walls Duncan saw Methos sitting cross-legged on the end of their bed, lazily smoothing a few strips of well-used, oiled leather with his long elegant fingers. Duncan's cock tightened even further as he considered the various possibilities, applications and implications.
"Why, MacLeod," Methos' wickedly teasing voice traced fire along his nerves, stirring anticipation. "You look like you have a few ideas of your own." Cocking an elegant eyebrow Methos idly murmured, "I wonder if they match up with mine?"
Suddenly Methos was right there-on top of him, pressing him into the sheets. A heavy, unbelievably solid presence holding Duncan immobile. Amazingly graceful, deceptively strong hands tightened beyond any possibility of easy escape on his shoulders, shoving his upper body deep into the soft bed. Methos' eyes were alive and glittering; it seemed like his entire body was lit from within. His face shone, and his tender mouth which seemed to go through life begging for Duncan to claim it as his own was opened just a bit, his tongue extended, slipping delicately over his lips, slicking them and making them shine.
Methos smirked annoyingly at Duncan, putting a new twist on Duncan's lustful contemplations. "I promised you that you'd be paying for that little stunt of yours this afternoon. But I'll bet you weren't planning on paying up just quite yet, were you?"
Absolutely aware of what Methos was thinking, Duncan pushed up against the restraining hands; he needed to see if Methos was as serious as Duncan thought he was. The fierce shove driving him immediately back into the mattress told him all that he needed to know-Methos was in full-out alpha mode. And he'd be really disappointed, and more than just a little pissed if Duncan didn't play along with his game. Not a problem, Duncan thought, we'll see who wins when all is said and done. Duncan casually slid down onto the soft mattress, easing his body into seeming acceptance.
Methos studied Duncan from behind the dusty shadows of his long lashes. "You aren't quitting now, are you? Come on, Highlander, I'll be crushed if you let me win this early in the game." Methos leaned over, grinning wickedly, and determinedly attached his sharp teeth to the line of Duncan's jaw.
"Ow!" Duncan's aggrieved complaint slid smoothly into a contented grumble. Duncan's throat suddenly came alive; the sting of razor-sharp nips were being followed by smooth swipes of Methos' moist tongue, wringing sensation from Duncan's skin. The warm velvet of Methos' tongue seemed somehow to slide over Duncan's cock even as Methos smoothed it over Duncan's throat. Methos' mouth was a hot and lively thing, tracing the muscular line of Duncan's throat, demanding and needy, pulling warmth, blood and lust to the surface.
Duncan surged out of his passivity, obeying the sudden imperative that demanded that he wrench himself free-force Methos to submit to the needs of his hungry mouth. Methos followed him easily, tracking Duncan with soft chuckles against the moist skin of his throat. Grinning, Methos stepped up his assault, nipping harder, and sucking more deeply, a soft growl escaping when Duncan slid out of reach for a moment.
Duncan forced calm onto his anxious body, biding his time. Methos hooked an ankle around Duncan's calf, pushing his muscular leg between Duncan's sweaty thighs. Duncan shivered. Methos shoved Duncan's legs apart, rubbing softly against him, never moving his mouth from its damp explorations of Duncan's neck. Licking carefully, over and over on the throbbing pulse point, Methos scraped reddened skin off with his teeth, then soothed the newly raw area with the moist slickness of his tongue. Feeling another delicate shiver of sensation sliding through his body, Duncan pushed his trembling body up into Methos, knowing there was no way Methos could avoid feeling the blazing heat of the throbbing steel sex pressed tightly against his own.
Moving his mouth from Duncan's throat, Methos groaned deeply in his chest, helplessly in his reaction to the delightful sensation. Immediately recognizing his opportunity, Duncan struck. He reversed the leg-lock in a heart-beat, doing his best to use the momentum he'd gained, along with his greater weight and mass to flip Methos over and pin the heaving, wet body underneath him.
The following struggle didn't appear to be easy, punctuated as it was with bitten off curses and low grunts of effort, and it certainly wasn't over quickly, but Methos retained his position of supremacy; millennia of instinctual reflexes, of times when he'd subdued other struggling bodies, came to his rescue and allowed him to remain in control. Methos drove Duncan's twisting body right back, deep into the warm bed he'd just tried to vacate. Undiscouraged and undeterred, Duncan smiled dangerously when he saw and felt the effect of the contrary, irritated noise that slid its way up and out of his throat.
So far, so good.
Duncan squirmed restlessly on the mattress, his mind flashing with anticipation (and a very annoying measure of concern), over the details of his intended role in Methos' little wake-up scene. Glancing up, his mind busily plotting his counter to Methos' next move, Duncan found his gaze captured instantly and held fast by the passionate intensity sparkling in Methos' eyes. An immediate thrill of purely anticipatory desire raced throughout Duncan's body, tightening his cock even further, tingling in his balls, tracing soft, liquid fire, deep in his belly. Groaning, Duncan sank back into the cool mattress, swallowing convulsively and determined to give Methos what he wanted.
What they both wanted apparently.
All personal worries and desires aside (and how could they possibly be one and the same?), there was no way Duncan could simply lie there and give in. He had been the responsible one for both of them for seemingly forever, Duncan wasn't at all sure that he could let that role go now-even for a moment. On the other hand, someplace deep within Duncan yearned for Methos to take over, to assume the responsibilities that Duncan had been so weighed down by over the past year. Duncan exhaled on a gusty sigh and relaxed again in Methos' firm grip; hopefully together he and Methos would find a way to satisfy all of their varied yearnings.
Duncan knew, as well, that his seeming capitulation pleased, amused and aroused Methos, and he also knew that Methos didn't trust his surrender for a minute. Oh well, that was going to be half the fun. If Methos wanted a hard, dominant fuck then Duncan would do his best to see that that was just what Methos got. And any ridiculous worries-well...fears, if Duncan was going to be honest with himself, would be dismissed out of hand. Methos needed him, badly: therefore, Duncan was going to do his damnedest not to let him down.
With Duncan's cock throbbing in counterpoint to their rapidly quickening breaths, he remembered all the days, nights, and years-all the centuries, he and Methos had spent devoted to the single-minded goal of learning all there was to learn about fulfilling the other's deepest cravings and desires. Understanding Methos' passion and needs and wants as he did, Duncan understood that this went far, far beyond Methos simply wanting to be on top during this encounter. Methos desperately needed -- craved really, the chance to exercise the control that had been so obviously absent from his life of late.
The effects of the temporal displacement wave had ripped all of Methos' choices from him, rendered him helpless in a way Methos had thought behind him forever. Duncan couldn't remove the scars of Methos' past, but he could offer himself willingly and freely to Methos and hope that the gift of his body might numb some of the lingering pain.
His spirit was more than willing, and his body certainly seemed brazenly enthusiastic, if his throbbing erection was any indication-if a bit hesitant about being restrained to the degree Duncan thought Methos would probably demand of him. Duncan tossed his head in annoyance and commanded that his doubts and worries stop this instant. Methos needed something only Duncan could give; so it was up to him to ensure Methos' needs were satisfied. All of them.
Leaning hard on Duncan's hands, Methos pressed them further down into the soft mattress. Using that point of contact as a brace to support himself, Methos maneuvered further up the bed until he was straddling Duncan's chest. Once there he sat back on his heels, satisfied for the moment. Pressing inward, Methos used the power in his muscular thighs to help secure Duncan's obedience. Watching Duncan warily, Methos reached back, quickly snagging his restraints, managing to somehow keep his position when Duncan suddenly surged to life beneath him, exploding into a hard bundle of determined energy.
"I'm not that easy, MacLeod." Methos' smile became even more self-satisfied if possible. He resettled himself over Duncan's chest, pressing his thighs even tighter, his Cheshire cat grin showing just how pleased he was with himself for having successfully ridden out Duncan's brief but volatile surge.
Fine. Duncan glared at Methos through narrowed eyes, conceding the moment. For the moment. However the stubborn look Duncan aimed at his annoying lover was intended to make it perfectly clear that he hadn't given up yet. For a multitude of reasons, he didn't dare. In this mood, God alone knew what Methos would do to him if he failed to offer up the expected performance.
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, considering his situation. The throbbing arousal surging through his body demanded attention now. His desire to please and be possessed by Methos was almost overwhelming as well. Also, there was his warriors voice, nattering on in the back of his mind. Quietly, but firmly, it was demanding to know just what in the hell he thought he was doing, allowing himself to be trussed up like a sheep about to be slaughtered, on a starship full of Immortals, no less. Even if they were all his friends.
Glowering at Methos from beneath narrowed eyes, Duncan grumbled under his breath, even as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of Methos' nimble fingers as they expertly wound the leather straps around his wrists. Methos stretched Duncan's arms over his head, crossing his wrists and binding them together. Methos took care that the restraints would be snug, but not so tight that they would become painful. Just taut enough to keep Duncan securely bound without causing him unnecessary pain.
Considering just how to trap Methos in the circle of his arms, Duncan jerked and groaned deep in his chest, the feeling starting from somewhere low in his belly when Methos leaned over him, a heavy, molten weight on his chest. Methos' body was all damp silk sliding over hot steel and very, very enticing. Methos' erection was poking Duncan in the belly, glancing up against his own throbbing heat from time to time and Duncan was becoming quite sure that he wasn't going to be able to maintain any pretense at presence of mind for much longer. While Duncan panted quietly, thoughts of what to do next skittering around in his over-heated brain, Methos snagged another tie, this one already attached to the framework of their bed.
Smirking annoyingly at Duncan, his grin stretching even further over his face when Duncan actually growled at him, Methos tied Duncan's wrists to the bed, snugging them down firmly. Methos tugged upwards on Duncan's bound wrists once or twice, making sure, testing his work.
Finding everything to his satisfaction, Methos released Duncan's arms altogether and moved back a bit, coming to rest over Duncan's hips. Apparently oblivious to Duncan's rigid sex poking him in the butt, Methos leaned forward. Knotting his fingers in Duncan's hair he used the thick silk to tug Duncan's mouth up to his. Methos assaulted Duncan with deep, open-mouthed kisses and soft, licking tastes for a long dizzy time. Methos held on tightly, not uncurling his fingers from Duncan's hair until after he'd rendered Duncan breathless and witless. Finally Methos pulled away and sat up, gilt eyes full of arousal, staring enchantedly at Duncan's wet mouth.
Slowly, deliberately sliding his tongue over his hot, swollen lips, Duncan savored Methos' ancient, spicy flavor. Smiling at Methos' pained look, Duncan considered his small victory. He knew full well the addiction Methos had for his mouth. For as long as Duncan could remember, Methos had obsessed over his lips and his mouth. Quite useful knowledge that Duncan had never once hesitated to turn to his advantage.
As smitten as always Methos lowered a hand, carefully stroking his fingers over the moistness, dragging his nails around the edges. Duncan felt a finger pressing against his lips, seeking entry, and he opened obediently, drawing it in, curling his tongue around it, sucking gently.
Methos' head fell back, his eyes sliding shut, a breathy, shuddery moan fighting its way free from somewhere deep within him. He brought his free hand up and began lazily playing with the loose strands of Duncan's hair. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now, Duncan." Methos informed him quietly, almost reverently.
Shivering with anticipation, Duncan raptly watched Methos crawl up over his body as he heaved and struggled against his restraints. Straddling his chest, leaning down over him, Methos pressed his flushed cock against Duncan's lips and Duncan slipped his tongue out, licking all around the swollen head, thrusting his pointed tongue as deeply as possible into the sensitive opening.
Duncan writhed harder, longing for control, for the use of his hands. He desperately wanted to grab Methos' ass and shove that white-hot steel and silk hardness deep into his eager mouth. He craved losing himself to the mindless pleasure of Methos sliding in and out, sinking ever deeper into his throat. But Duncan was unable to do that, he was being forced to just lie there and take it as Methos slid his wet enticing cockhead around his lips. Methos permitted him teasing tastes, but no more. His thoroughly aggravating lover invariably pulled back before Duncan could get down to serious business.
Suddenly annoyed beyond bearing, Duncan growled, raising his head up as far as he was able, reaching...straining--he had to get his mouth around that slick, salty heat or die in the attempt.
Methos grinned at his frustrated actions and sat even further back on his heels, tormenting Duncan even more. "You're such a slut; you know that, MacLeod?" Methos' voice was low and lust warmed, affectionate and depraved all at once. "I think I'll tie you down and fuck you stupid a lot more often." Methos aimed a particularly aggravating smirk at Duncan and added. "Not that you seem to be minding this all that much...but I thought I'd mention it nonetheless."
Such delicious cruelty. Duncan yanked as hard as he could on his bindings. Surely if he made up his mind, determined to win free he could break loose? Of course he could. And then, well, Methos would think twice before trying this ill-considered trick again. Duncan MacLeod would teach his wanton arrogant lover a few lessons about just what true possession entailed. Beginning right now.
Duncan turned his head until he was able to capture Methos' eyes, holding them locked in an intimate, demanding contact. Duncan had every intention of beginning his gleeful gloating, his chest swelling with the pride of his accomplishment.
Duncan felt like kicking himself. Of course he should have realized that Methos was already aware of every thought passing through his lust-addled brain. Duncan himself could usually read Methos' plans and actions like a book; he surely ought to expect that Methos could do the same for him. Obviously they were each able to keep certain secrets, but in these more intimate moments, when both men let their guards down-well, then it was especially difficult to hide something from the other.
The amused, confident cast of Methos' features acted as a trigger, jacking up Duncan's ire even further. Methos' calm confidence solidified Duncan's roller coaster emotional state, turning all the passion and lust and fury coursing through his body into complex anger and he wasted a few additional moments expressing his displeasure, straining for all he was worth, ultimately uselessly against his bindings.
Obviously intrigued, Methos studied Duncan's thrashings for a bit, before tightly grabbing Duncan's upper arms. Forcefully, he drove him back. "Enough, MacLeod," Methos said. "Enough. Now open up. As fascinating it is to watch you pretend you don't love losing control, I'm ready for your mouth. And I'm not in the mood to be kept waiting."
Furious, Duncan clenched his jaw tightly shut. How dare Methos say those things to him -- order him about like that? If he could just get free he'd grab Methos' ass and shove Methos' dick straight down his throat himself. Duncan flushed, remembering the reason he'd begun fighting for his freedom in the first place. Damn Methos all the way to hell and back anyway.
Grudgingly acknowledging the undeniable lust that was overwhelming him, but still aggravated with the over-all situation, Duncan squirmed restlessly in his bindings. Obviously, as long as he'd been with Methos they'd played almost every possible game, sexual or otherwise, and with all manner of accessories; but never with seven other Immortals within hailing...or beheading distance, dammit!
There was something distinctly unsettling about being rendered so vulnerable and yet feeling so desperate and needy under these conditions. Duncan ground his teeth together a few moments longer, then sighed and gave it up. Sliding his dark eyes closed, he sighed, acquiescing when Methos pressed insistently on his lips, graceful fingers demanding access. Abandoning himself to his fate, Duncan opened his lips and welcomed Methos in.
Methos slid two fingers in sideways and separated them a bit. "Wider, MacLeod," Methos scolded. "Come on, open up." The look on his face when Duncan did as he asked was its own reward. "Hold that thought, MacLeod," Methos murmured, sliding his fingers out and slipping himself in. Moving closer, Methos pushed deeply into Duncan, gliding forward, not stopping until his pelvic bone bumped up against Duncan's nose. "Ummm, just perfect," he purred, satisfaction resonating through his voice. "Don't move, Highlander," he commanded, gripping Duncan's sweaty face tightly in his strong hands. "I'll do all the work; you just lay there and be a good little whore."
Despite the harsh sounding words, Methos' pleasure and desire and obvious affection were evident in the velvet-soft caress of his voice. And if that wasn't enough, all Duncan had to do was look at the blissful adoration shining on Methos' face. Methos' pale skin and lips were flushed, glowing with desire. His gilded green eyes were gleaming with lust, desire and love.
Methos fit his fingers firmly around Duncan's face and neck, finding a comfortable and secure place to hold Duncan's head still. Once he was satisfied with his grip Methos began thrusting in and out, his eyes focused unswervingly on the sight of his ruddy, tumid erection, watching himself sliding in and out of Duncan's wet lips, cocking his head, apparently fascinated by the lovely liquid noises.
"Oh, gods, so hot...fuck, MacLeod -- you feel so...good." Methos gasped and groaned his pleasure as he pressed in and out of the mouth that was so welcoming to his eager thrusts. Almost lying on top of Duncan, Methos flexed in and out, shoving deeper -- and even deeper with each increasingly desperate push.
Duncan's eyes drifted slowly shut, and he allowed his mind to drift free. He let himself hear the small grunts and louder moans that Methos couldn't seem to hold back. He drew air in deeply through his nostrils, staving off suffocation and savoring the deep musky scent of Methos' passion. He swallowed the bitter-sweet, salty tang filling his mouth and he filled his sight with Methos, lost in passion and arousal. Duncan focused his hungry gaze on the place where Methos drove himself to meet him, pushing them together until any separation was lost, and they seemed to merge in Duncan's tear-damped sight, becoming one flesh.
Methos shoved into his mouth for what seemed to Duncan to be a very long time -- then abruptly, he withdrew, leaving Duncan gasping for air, and feeling as bereft as if he'd suddenly lost his shadow. Duncan strained up again, reaching, seeking for the solid reality that had been so rudely taken from him, but Methos would have none of it.
Methos sat back on his heels, bracing his hands on his thighs, sucking in oxygen, panting while he tried to regain some measure of his equilibrium. "I want more than your mouth, Duncan, sweet as it is. And now you're going to spread your legs and give it to me, aren't you?" Methos gasped out, some of the intended abruptness lost to his gulps for air.
Duncan, long since abandoned to his desire to have Methos buried deeply in him, in his ass if he couldn't have him sheltered in his mouth, simply nodded agreement, unable and unwilling to offer any resistance.
Capturing Methos' gaze, Duncan drew his legs up so that his feet were flat on the bed. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of Methos' fascinated look, Duncan slid his feet up towards his body, separating his thighs as he went, offering Methos the clearest possible view. Duncan flexed his back and arched his hips towards Methos. "This what you had in mind, humm?" Duncan asked quietly. At Methos' nod, Duncan said, "Come take me then."
Methos shook his head, as if to clear it, then slid down to kneel between Duncan's legs. Grasping a trembling thigh in e ach hand, he pressed Duncan's legs as far apart as possible, lowering his head to nip and lick along the area where Duncan's hips joined onto his body. Duncan shivered in anticipation as Methos ran his hot tongue along the seam of his thigh and hip, nudging his balls carelessly out of his way with his nose.
Duncan groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, arching his hips even higher, offering himself to Methos. The liquid fire of Methos' lips and tongue sliding over his tender flesh felt so good, so right. Methos' tongue pushed its way into him, setting his nerve endings alight, igniting a craving for penetration of another sort. But not just yet. Duncan wasn't ready to lose the gentle suction of Methos' mouth, the playful nips from his teeth, and the -- oh dear God, the feeling of Methos' tongue.
Too soon, Methos pulled his head away. He smiled at Duncan and raised his hand, brushing the back of his fingers in a soothing caress over Duncan's cheek. Pushing Duncan's hair away from his eyes, Methos soothed, "Just a minute, we're almost there." Reaching for the lube, Methos slicked himself, then slid his fingers into Duncan, smoothing the slippery substance into him. Methos nudged his fingers against that part of Duncan's body that made him groan aloud, arching his entire body up off the mattress.
"Oh, God, Methos," Duncan moaned. "Please."
"Please, what?" Methos asked, pushing against the place again, and then again. "Is this what you want?" Not waiting for a coherent answer, Methos shoved Duncan's legs further apart and with one stroke, shoved himself all the way into Duncan's desperate body.
Duncan sucked in a shocked breath. Methos' heat seemed to fill his entire body, radiating out from his ass, to warm him everywhere. Methos had only paused for the briefest of moments, now he was riding him hard, pistoning in and out, his pace increasing with each stroke. The edges of Duncan's vision started to go dark and blurry, the shocks of pleasure rocketing through him at an unbearable rate. Methos had him angled so that each thrust hit up against the place in him that sent glittering sparklers of wanton pleasure and carnal feeling shooting through his entire body.
Duncan forced his eyes open, drinking in the vision of Methos lost to their pleasure. Somehow, Methos had never appeared more beautiful to Duncan than he did in this singular focused moment of need, desire and possession. Duncan's throat tightened as he stared, entranced, at the precious lover he'd thought lost to him forever.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face because Methos slid a hand off of his thigh, wrapping it around the focus of Duncan's throbbing, aching desire. Methos squeezed Duncan hard, and his eyes rolled shut. He forced them open again, desperate with his need to see Methos, to reassure himself that Methos was the one making love to him -- pouring himself into him until their separate identities were lost forever.
Consumed by the fire, he lost himself, lost his mind, his identity and his separateness to Methos. Gave them all over freely and willingly.
The world tilted and blurred, then darkened and faded toward the light at the center of his vision; there was nothing left but Methos. Nothing but this one eternal moment, this one perfect instant of fulfillment, this one love. Duncan sank into the vital essence, the necessity of his connection with Methos. Releasing, freely giving everything, Duncan MacLeod surrendered all that he was, offered all he had ever been, promised all that he ever would be, and laid it at Methos' feet.
Duncan craved the ability to tell Methos -- share his feelings with words, but he was almost unconscious. So he reminded himself that they had forever -- again, and settled for wrapping his newly released arms around Methos as tightly as possible. Duncan allowed himself to drown in the blissful, incomparable feeling of a warm, totally sated, drowsy Methos resting on his chest. Drifting away, the heartbeat and presence of the love of his life soothed and grounded him, holding him safely through the night.