Not mine. No money. NC-17. M/M
Ack! These are not my muses! Who stole my muses? My muses don't do maudlin, sappy, gooey, purple...well okay, they do purple. But they don't do this.
This is the sequel to 'See Methos Run,' which was the sequel to 'For A Good Time, Call...'
"So, when are you coming home?"
"Like I told you, next week."
"Damn." Duncan made himself more comfortable on the bed and put his drink on the nightstand. "I was really hoping to hear you say 'tomorrow.'"
"I'm touched. It sounds like you miss me."
"Me? Miss you? Of course I miss you, Methos. I miss moving your shoes off the kitchen counter twice a day. I really miss picking up your wet towels from the bathroom floor. And I especially miss mounting major expeditions to retrieve your beercap collection from behind the fridge."
"Well, since you're enjoying your privacy that much, I could always stay another week."
"You do and I'll come fetch you, Old Man. I'll sling you over my shoulder, carry you off somewhere, and not let you out for days."
"Hit me over the head and drag me back to your cave? Why MacLeod, I didn't know you cared."
"Let me start over. Come home, Methos. I miss kissing you hello. I miss kissing you goodbye. I miss hearing your voice just before I fall asleep. I miss holding you in my arms at night. I miss waking up with you curled against my chest like a kitten..."
"What's wrong with that?"
"You think of me as a kitten?"
"I like cats, Methos."
"Funny, I always pictured you as more of a dog person."
"No, I think I'm definitely a cat person. They remind me of you. The independence. The aloofness. The secretiveness."
"And? I'm waiting for the punch line, MacLeod. Get on with it."
"That 'get the hell away from me unless I send for you' attitude." Duncan grinned at the snort of disgust from the other end of the phone. He could picture Methos relaxing on the hotel bed, stretched out to his full, enticing length, sprawled out and taking up most of the available space. Damn, he missed him.
"I'll remember that the next time you want to join me in the shower. You washed your own back for years, I'm sure you remember how it's done."
"I do. I also remember that doing it myself isn't nearly as much fun as letting you help."
"Well, that's true of a lot of things, isn't it? Anything else you need help with, Highlander?" Methos' voice deepened and slowed, winding it's way through the phone lines to caress MacLeod's ear, slide down his neck, across his chest, and wrap warm invisible fingers around the cock that had hardened the moment he'd recognized Methos' voice on the other end of the phone. Duncan closed his eyes. He recognized this voice, this mood. Damn, the man was good.
"Methos, you're twelve hundred miles away. Let's not start something we can't finish. This week has been painful enough already."
"Trust me. We can finish it, Duncan." Duncan. Not MacLeod, not Mac, not even Highlander. Duncan. Methos was pulling out the heavy weapons. But MacLeod could play this game too, and he'd just had a refresher course from the master. He smiled and sighed into the phone. Heavily.
"Of course Duncan, if you'd rather not talk anymore, I can hang up and let you handle it by yourself. Or you can go take a cold shower."
"What are you wearing, Methos?" There was a soft snicker from the phone. "You're so conventional, Duncan."
"Conventional? You want something a little more exotic?"
"I want what ever you want to give me, Duncan. However you want to give it to me. However you want me to take it." The voice was a husky whisper now--soft, undemanding. It looked like this was Duncan's lucky night. First Amanda, and now Methos in one of his rare submissive moods. This was just too good an oportunity to let pass untaken. Amanda, bless her thieving little heart, was right. It was time he and Methos stopped being afraid and let a little truth into their relationship. And since truth-telling was not one of Methos' specialties, it was going to be up to Duncan to start it.
"Tell me what you're wearing, Methos."
"Jeans. Just jeans. That old, ragged pair you keep trying to throw away."
"I don't want to throw them away, Methos. I just don't want you to wear them where anyone else can see you. From now on, you only wear those for me. I love the way they hug your tight little ass. I don't want anyone else to be tempted. I'd hate to have to kill some poor son of a bitch because he couldn't keep his hands off of you."
"Got it. No one else gets to touch me. Only you."
"I'm glad you understand that."
"You'd be amazed at what I understand, Duncan."
"I doubt it."
"I understand that you're missing me, and I understand that you're horny. And you're touching yourself, aren't you?"
"And you aren't?"
"Oh, I'm touching you too, Duncan. Can't you feel it?"
"That's not what I meant, Methos."
"I know. But it's more fun my way. Can't you feel my hands on your chest, Duncan? Running slowly over your hot skin, touching you, caressing you, stroking you?"
"Uhmmm...now that you mention it..."
"I love your nipples, Duncan. Such a wonderful dark brown surprise against that golden expanse of muscle. They're absolutely irresistable. I want to lick them, and suck them, and bite them until you scream."
"Which may be any minute now."
"Uhmmm...and your neck. So strong, so warm...can I bite your neck, Duncan? Right there above your shoulder?"
"Anything, Methos. You can do anything."
"I'll hold you to that. Is your hair down? Loose and wild and tangled the way I like it? I want to run my fingers through it. I want to wrap it around my fist and use it to pull myself up into your kiss. Oooh yes. And then I want to feel you move along my body, letting your hair run over me, brush against me, trail lightening over all my nerve endings. That's what it's like for me when you touch me, Duncan. Lightning. Every damn time. I like the lightning, Duncan. I need it. It makes me know I'm alive."
"God, Methos. Why don't you ever say these things when I can get my hands on you?"
"Shhh...relax. You can touch me, Duncan. Touch me now, Duncan. Please. I need you to touch me. I need you to take me in your arms and hold me. I'm so cold here, Duncan. And I'm so alone."
"Oh yes, I'm going to touch you, Methos. I'm going to pull you into my arms and hold you close to my chest. Crush you against my heart, tighter and tighter until you know that you'll never take another breath that doesn't carry my scent into your soul. You're mine, Methos. Always mine. Never forget that. For the rest of your life, you'll always think of me whenever anyone touches you, kisses you, makes love to you. It will always be me Methos. And you'll never have to be alone again."
"My God, Duncan. Do you think if you tried really hard, you could get just a little bit sappier?"
"You do not have an ounce of romance in your soul, Old Man."
"There's a big difference between romance and maudlin sap, Highlander."
"Shut up, Methos."
"But...sometimes...always scares me Duncan."
"I know it does."
"And it...deep inside, it hurts."
"It doesn't have to hurt, Methos. I won't let it hurt. Never again."
"Never is a long time, Duncan."
"So is forever, Methos. But neither one matters, does it? You're coming home to me, and we're going to be together. Alone together. Just the two of us. No Joe, no Richie, no Amanda. We're going to lock the world outside, and I'm going to spend as long as it takes to convince you that one moment can be forever."
"God, Duncan! You're doing it again."
"And I'm going to keep doing it. As long as it takes Methos. I've got all the time in the world, and I can't think of a single thing I'd rather spend the rest of my life doing than making love to you. I'm going to lock the doors and keep you prisoner. And I'm going to have you, Methos. I'm going to take you when ever and where ever I want you."
"Now that's more like it! Yesss, Duncan. Anything you want. Anything."
"I'm going to take you hard, Methos. Hard and fast. And I'm not going to care if I make you bleed. I'm going to slam my cock into you and pound your tight little ass so hard you won't catch your breath for a week. And then, just when you think you know what's coming next, it's going to change. Then it'll be slow. Soft and lingering and torturous touches all over your body. One glorious, pale ivory inch at a time. I'm going to paint you with my tongue, Methos. So slowly that before I'm done you'll be screaming for me to take your head and end it."
"But I'm not going to let it end, Methos. I'm going to keep doing it until your every nerve is alive and on fire, until your body is a single mass of flame, until you come for me, when ever I tell you to, and just because I tell you to. And as soon as you come, I'm going to start all over again. I'm going to teach you a whole new definition of forever, Methos."
"Shhh...I'm not through yet. It's not your turn to talk yet. I'll tell you when it's your turn. Now, say 'yes, Duncan.'"
"Good, Methos. You're learning. Guess what you learn next Methos?"
"That I love you, Methos."
"I...think I already knew that, Duncan."
"I had an idea that you did. Deep inside, where it hurts."
"I love you, too, Duncan MacLeod."
"I know you do, Methos. I think I've always known. And that's why it's not going to hurt anymore."
"I'm coming home."
"I'll be here. I'll always be here."