Fic Repost: Out of the Blue
Mar. 18th, 2011 07:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mogwai_doSame deal as last time, an old fic that made it to the mailing lists at the time, but nowhere else. Some of you will have read it, some of you won't.
Disclaimer: Methos and Mac don't belong to me *sniff* and neither does the concept of Immortality. I don't mean any harm by this and I don't make any profit; I just do it for fun and because the Muses can be terribly persuasive.
Rated: NC-17 for m/m sex
Warning: Slash
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Notes: PWP - absolutely and totally. Gratuitous Methos-worship herein. Written for myself and a friend because we both needed some fic and my Duncan Muse was staging a comeback :-) The result of a tired Saturday evening and an image spotted whilst channel-hopping, which goes to prove it really takes very little to set a Muse off ;-)
Summary: Everyone needs a break sometime.
Out of the Blue
Copyright Margaret Turner
1st April 2000
"At the beach. Join me? M."
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod carefully refolded the note and tucked it back into his pocket. When he'd first found the brief missive, sitting neatly propped on his pillow, it had sparked a panic of monumental proportions. Despite their argument of the night before, he had never really imagined that Methos would cut and run - after all, it was hardly the first time they had argued. But the old Immortal's minimal belongings had gone and Duncan had quite creatively cursed the challenger whose poor timing had precipitated the row.
It had been an old argument; Methos' caution versus Duncan's unwillingness to hide. They'd gone over it a hundred times, neither side ever winning, but they'd always made up afterwards. A wistful smile flitted over his face, in fact, given how good the making up usually was, Duncan was almost surprised they didn't fight more often.
Only when the panic had solidified in his gut like frozen lead, did it actually occur to the Highlander to read his lover's note. The cryptic message had been accompanied by a matchbook from an exclusive resort. They had only been together a year and while the worst of the secrets seemed to be out in the open, Duncan knew he still had a long way to go to understanding his ancient lover. The note had to be a good sign, but still Duncan was anxious - he had never wanted to chase Methos away. Ever.
Unforeseen complications at work had meant that it had taken the Highlander three whole days before he could finally follow his lover and every hour that had passed had forced him to wonder how long Methos was prepared to wait. But he'd taken the flight and found the island resort where he had been told that yes, Dr. Pierson was a registered guest and given directions to his lover's cabin. Still a little bemused by hearing Methos referred to as Dr. Pierson, the Highlander had made his way by well-tended paths through the tropical greenery to his lover's cabin.
The cabin was small and constructed entirely of white-washed wood; a pair of comfortable chairs and a small table sat on the porch overlooking what could almost be called a garden. The trees and shrubs had been cleared back from the cabin for some small distance before they became an almost impenetrable wall of green interspersed with the riotous colour of the local flowers, giving an illusion of isolation. A narrow track of sandy gravel led from the porch steps to meet with the path Duncan himself was on and, as he followed its meandering route with his eyes, he could see it branching off here and there to other cabins or resort facilities.
It was immediately obvious that his lover wasn't in the cabin from the lack of Presence, but it wasn't empty. Duncan met a diminutive and deeply-tanned cleaning lady just leaving. Using his considerable persuasive charm had proved unnecessary however, as she explained to him that Dr. Pierson had already informed her that he was expecting a 'guest' and that should he be out when said guest arrived then he was to be let in anyway. Maria, or so her nametag said, obligingly unlocked the door and let Duncan in with a broad smile. The reason for her smile became apparent as he took in the interior of the cabin.
The cabin was really just one big room; off to his right was a sitting area with a television and Methos' laptop on the coffee table, to his left was a neat kitchen alcove with an excellent range of appliances if they chose to make their own meals, but the focus of the room was undoubtedly the king-size bed and it was the only sleeping space, the two-seater couch being too small by half. A brief peek through a door to his left revealed a well-fitted bathroom with a large shower and a whirlpool bath and confirmed Duncan's immediate thought that this accommodation hadn't come cheap. He also had the sneaking suspicion that it hadn't been paid for on Adam Pierson's credit card either. Not lavish, but very comfortable and he already knew the staff were quick, efficient and, above all, discreet. Methos had excellent taste... in more ways than one, Duncan thought with a grin, reassured by surroundings that were obviously meant to be shared. The thought redoubled the urge to seek out his wayward lover and find out if that bed really was as comfortable as it looked.
First, however, Duncan took the opportunity to change into something a little more suitable for the climate. He dumped his bag on the couch to be unpacked later, and chose his clothes with care. He was fairly sure Methos wasn't mad at him, at least he hoped not, but it never hurt to weight the odds where the Eldest was concerned. A well-worn pair of faded blue cut-offs and a white vest fulfilled the decency requirement as well as enhancing his tan and physique. As Duncan made to leave, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and pulled the clasp from his hair, letting it fall in loose waves about his shoulders. He grinned at his reflection; before Methos he had never resorted to such blatant tactics, but there was something... fun about it all now, although maybe that was just because of the way Methos tended to demonstrate his appreciation.
Stepping out onto the porch, the Highlander debated where to begin his search. There was a town close by that he had passed through on his way from the airport and it seemed to have enough bars to satisfy even the ancient Immortal, but a brief consultation with Methos' note prompted Duncan to follow the path and the low roar of the sea down to the shore instead.
The sudden transition from shady greenery to the bright, almost white, sand and crystal blue ocean had the Highlander wincing and reaching hastily for his sunglasses. When the glare had been reduced to tolerable levels by the smoky glass, Duncan was able to take in his new surroundings.
He was almost at the very end of a gently curving beach; to his left the sand abruptly became tumbled rocks, a multitude of shallow pools sheltered beneath higher rocky outcroppings; to his right the beach continued on unbroken before disappearing around a bend. The muted sounds that drifted to him on the hot breeze suggested that beyond the corner the beach was well-populated, but here it was almost possible to believe the rest of the world no longer existed.
An elderly couple were sitting on loungers some way off to Duncan's right, relaxing in the shade of a huge beach umbrella, sipping drinks and reading. Not so far to his left someone had spread a large towel on the sand, strategically placed beneath the shade of some overhanging palm fronds. A familiar-looking rucksack was propped against the base of the tree at the head of the towel so Duncan wandered in that direction for a closer look, absently scanning inland for some sign of his lover.
A t-shirt had been half-stuffed into the top of the rucksack and a bottle of water was half-buried in the sand next to it to keep cool. But it was the four books sitting next to it that clinched it for Duncan; two cheap thrillers, one in English, one in French, a computer reference book and great thick thing that would have been far better suited to a microbiologist's shelf, judging by the title. Duncan smiled, he may not know all that much about his lover, but he did know that when it came to reading Methos was terrible - he'd read anything and everything from the latest scientific papers to cartoon strips and the backs of cereal packets. Duncan smiled to himself and straightened, Methos had to be around here somewhere, he never left his stuff unattended for long.
The Highlander began to turn a slow circle, scanning the surroundings for any sign of where the Ancient might have gone. The greenery was so thick at this point he doubted Methos could have gone inland from here, not without leaving a very visible track. His eyes lit on the path he had followed to get here, but the Ancient couldn't have gone back to the cabin either or Duncan would have seen him. The old couple were still there, paying him no attention, and Duncan briefly considered asking them if they knew where his lover had gone, but decided against it just yet. He turned further round, now taking in the white surf, the clear blue water and beyond that, where the sandy floor dropped abruptly away, the deep blue of the ocean, broken only by ripples of white where the gentle motion of the tides had been spurred into restlessness by the strong breeze.
Out there, black against the clear azure sky, a surfer was just catching a wave, heading inland, balancing the board with a graceful ease that Duncan had always envied in his lover. It took a second more for that thought to register and Duncan's mouth dropped open with a disbelieving laugh and an incredulous grin.
Methos?
Surfing?
What he wouldn't give for a camera right now - Joe would sell the bar to see this - that is, if it really was Methos. As if on cue, the black-clad figure came into range and he watched as Methos half-straightened in surprise at sensing Presence and nearly fell off as a result, but he recovered in time... just.
Duncan watched with what he knew must be a foolish smile as the other Immortal neared the shore. Then he moved forward to meet his lover as Methos' momentum slowed and he jumped off the board with a splash and a grin so bright that even Duncan's sunglasses couldn't shield him. As Methos waded out of the water, the surfboard tucked under his arm, Duncan was suddenly hard-pressed to remember his thoughts of only moments before.
Methos was clad in a wetsuit; a skin-tight, sleeveless, black wetsuit that clung to his lean figure. He shed crystal droplets of water as he moved and the shimmer of sunlight on the soaked fabric moulded to the muscles of the broad chest. The contrast between black suit and pale skin where the two met made the breadth of his shoulders obvious and the brightly coloured diagonal stripes up the sides of the suit emphasised the narrow hips.
Methos' short, dark hair was wet and sticking up in all directions and the normally pale skin had already acquired a light golden tan, despite only a few days of sun. Best of all though, was the delighted grin that turned faintly lascivious as emerald eyes swept up and down the Highlander's body. The ancient Immortal looked happy and relaxed... and altogether edible. Aphrodite rising from the waves had *nothing* on this.
"Hey Mac! Long time no see," Methos greeted cheerfully as they fell into step, side by side.
Duncan smiled, relieved; all had been forgiven. "Missed you too, Methos," he replied softly, sure that no-one could overhear. He didn't let himself bask in the pleased smile his lover favoured him with, he had something to get out of the way first. "I'm sorry."
Methos planted his board in the sand by his towel and took a swig from the bottle of water, grimacing faintly at the lukewarm flavour. "I'm sorry too, Duncan. It wasn't your fault some young idiot thought he could make a name for himself. I was just feeling twitchy - I'm not used to being so... vulnerable," the admission was made with an uncomfortable shrug. "I needed a break."
Duncan smiled, realising that with his lover's admission he'd been given far more than a mere apology. He waved a hand at the beach and the waves that still frothed on the shoreline, "Is that what this is?"
Methos grinned, "Something like that, besides I didn't want to get out of practice."
The Highlander chuckled, voicing his thought of earlier, "I wish I'd had a camera - Joe would have sold the bar for a photo like that."
Methos grinned in response, "Shame," he said with mock-sincerity. Then he arched an inquisitive eyebrow, "Does this mean you've never tried it?"
Duncan regarded his lover tolerantly, "You know I haven't."
Methos smirked, knowing the Highlander was referring to the Eldest's perusal of the Highlander's Chronicles during his time as a Watcher. "I could teach you, you know," Methos offered, only half-jokingly. "You're already pretty well co-ordinated, you'd pick it up in no time." The speculative smile became a leer, "Besides I bet you'd look pretty good in a wetsuit."
Duncan laughed: Methos' mind was apparently running on parallel tracks to his own. "Not as good as you," he replied honestly and captured his lover for a long overdue kiss hello.
Methos' lips were warm and pliant against Duncan's and as he dipped his tongue inside the welcoming mouth he could taste a hint of the sea, an unusual complement to his ancient lover's taste. Duncan deepened the kiss further, seeking out more to feed the craving that had sprung on him unawares, his hands snaking around Methos' back to pull him closer and loving the way the Ancient seemed to melt against him.
Something wet brushed against the back of his hand, puzzling Duncan until he realised it was the long zipper tag that enabled a person to suit up without help. Smiling into the kiss Duncan snagged the tag with his fingers and carefully began to pull, congratulating himself on getting it almost halfway down before Methos noticed.
"Mac!" Methos squawked, breaking out of the Highlander's arms and reaching back over his shoulder to try and catch the tag to pull it back up. Duncan laughed as Methos struggled with the suddenly unco-operative zip.
"It may be a private beach, Mac," the ancient Immortal was telling him. "But they do draw the line somewhere."
The comment sparked a sudden mischievous curiosity in the too-often dour Scot and Duncan let his eyes wander appreciatively over his lover's trim form encased in the tight suit. "What do you wear under that anyway?" he inquired a touch too innocently.
Methos' flustered look vanished to be replaced with a smile that was downright devilish and damn sexy, his green eyes vibrant with humour and lust. "Make it back to the cabin, Highlander, and I'll let you find out." And with that the ancient Immortal disappeared into the greenery, leaving Duncan standing alone on the beach.
Duncan needed no further hint, his shorts were already uncomfortably tight reminding him that it really was about time they got to the making up part of their reunion. The previously impenetrable-seeming wall of green was no impediment to the Highlander's progress this time around.
Duncan reached the clearing around the cabin just in time to see Methos climb the steps to the porch and the view it presented him with doubled his speed.
As it was Methos had barely made it through the door before Duncan overtook him, pushing the Ancient back against the door and slamming it shut at the same time. Not that Methos appeared to mind at all, simply stepping in close to his lover and moving both of them further into the room with a sinuous motion. Then abruptly they were devouring each other with a passion out of all proportion to their three day separation and this time when Duncan's fingers found the zipper tag Methos merely breathed encouragement into the kiss. It was only fair anyway, Duncan's vest had gone within moments.
When the danger of passing out forced them to break apart they did so reluctantly, nuzzling softly as the immediate intensity faded. But having caught their breaths, Methos put a hand lightly on Duncan's chest, keeping them apart. When Duncan looked at him, confused, Methos smiled reassuringly, "I need a shower first, Duncan; saltwater itches." Methos pulled himself free of the Highlander's encircling arms, but softened the loss with a quick kiss, "I promise I'll be quick."
Duncan nodded, relieved and a little rueful, and let him go. Well, he supposed, at least this way they'd probably make it to the bed - he'd had some serious doubts on that score earlier. But instead of moving to said piece of furniture, Duncan went to the bathroom door. Leaning against the doorpost, he watched as Methos peeled off the clinging wetsuit, revealing long limbs and smooth skin tanned a light gold. As the suit was pushed from narrow hips, Methos' erection sprang free and Duncan realised his suspicions had been correct; Methos hadn't been wearing anything beneath it. The thought made his own cock throb behind its denim prison, but Methos had already disappeared into the shower, an indistinct outline behind frosted glass and running water.
Methos had promised to be quick, Duncan told himself, trying to will his aching cock back to more tolerable levels of arousal, but he effectively sabotaged his own efforts when he made the mistake of looking up. The movements behind the glass screen were blurred, but Duncan had far too good an imagination where his lover was concerned. He could picture the patter of glittering droplets across the broad shoulders, becoming rivulets as they streamed down the muscled contours of his lover's chest and back, the hollow of his spine, the crease of his ass. Trailing all the way down, clinging to the smooth skin as though reluctant to be parted from its delicious warmth.
Duncan took an unconscious step forward, accidentally kicking the wetsuit. Looking down, he suddenly found himself absurdly envious of the black material huddled in a damp heap on the floor; the suit had fit to Methos like a second skin, wrapping around the ancient Immortal and protecting him. That thought sparked a not-unfamiliar yearning in the Highlander - that he could do the same, be so close to his lover, offer his protection to someone as fiercely independent as the Ancient and have it accepted. His shorts grew tighter and Duncan jerked his eyes from the floor only to see his lover's casual grace as he moved beneath the water that caressed the newly tanned body, twining around the long limbs and seeping into the soft skin.
Damn.
"Duncan?" Methos queried, only mildly surprised when the naked and extremely aroused Highlander pulled open the shower door and climbed in.
"Took too long, Methos," Duncan said by way of explanation as he pushed the ancient Immortal to the back wall of the shower, pressing his too-hot body against that of his wet lover, claiming Methos' mouth again for a hungry kiss. From the way Methos pressed back against him, welcoming Duncan's tongue into his mouth, it didn't appear that Methos was too upset by the interruption.
Broad, sword-calloused hands skated over wet flesh, following the narrow rivulets of water, brushing them impatiently from *his* lover. Duncan could feel Methos' own deceptively delicate hands glide over his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there, before tangling in the rapidly water-logged hair, holding Duncan's head in place as Methos led the kiss.
Duncan let Methos take total possession of his mouth, drinking in the unique taste of the Ancient, feeling it soothe nerves he hadn't realised had been rubbed so raw by his lover's abrupt departure. He sucked hungrily on Methos' tongue, needing this taste of him, needing him this close and closer. The lukewarm water spilling over them slicked the movement of flesh against flesh, hard cocks glancing against each other setting off shivers of helpless need in both Immortals. Duncan didn't even register that Methos' hands were moving until they reached his ass, pulling Duncan tighter against him.
Duncan broke the kiss with a gasp as their cocks ground together and Methos whimpered at the loss. But Duncan wouldn't let him suffer that separation for long, the sudden shock had cleared his head a little and he had plans now. Despite the temptation of those swollen lips, rather than meet Methos' mouth again as it sought his, Duncan lowered his head to his lover's sensitive throat. He licked and nibbled at the long column of vulnerable flesh, pausing once to mark his lover with a hard bite, relishing the moan it brought to Methos' lips and the reflexive clutching of strong fingers on his ass.
Duncan continued his ministrations and Methos didn't even try to guide his lover's actions, instead giving himself over to the insistent pleasure of Duncan's mouth on his skin, letting the Highlander take them where he would. Which, at the moment, was down.
Duncan placed a line of sucking kisses from the hollow of Methos' throat down the centre of his chest while his hands travelled up the old Immortal's sides. Methos' nipples were already tight buds when Duncan reached them and the quick flicker of his tongue over the sensitive flesh caused a gasp and Methos' hands flew up to tangle again in the Highlander's hair. Duncan smiled against his lover's skin before trapping the tiny bud between his teeth, not quite hard enough to hurt, and flicked his tongue over it again and again while his other hand crept up to draw circles around the other nipple, pausing occasionally to pinch the tender bud.
Methos' breathing was becoming erratic, interspersed with whimpers and moans as the Highlander continued his loving torture. Duncan could feel Methos' long fingers kneading his skull, the catlike reflex one he was sure his lover was not conscious of at this point. Duncan freed the abused flesh from the grip of his teeth and kissed it softly in apology before glancing up. Methos' head was thrown back, exposing the long length of his throat and Duncan could see the movement as he swallowed, struggling to breathe and unable to halt the small sounds that escaped his lips. Duncan could feel his cock throb hard each time one of those sounds slipped out.
"Please," it was the only word Methos seemed able to form and without any conscious command of his own, Duncan dropped to his knees, ignoring the protest they sang out at the hard floor of the shower. Methos' hands on his head felt like a benediction as Duncan came eye-level with his lover's proud cock. It looked as hard and desperate as Duncan felt and it took no prompting at all for Duncan to wrap his lips around the weeping head and lap at the fluid leaking from the tip, savouring that first intimate taste.
Duncan felt like a starving man at a feast; he wanted to swallow his lover whole, devour him, draw his essence from him and drink it down. But stronger still was the strangest urge, not to take, but to give; to shelter the ancient Immortal, to take him within Duncan himself, as close as they could possibly get, and protect him any way he could. The two desires were surprisingly compatible.
Duncan slowly lowered his head, taking his lover's cock part way into his mouth, trailing his tongue over its length. Then with a deliberate swallowing motion, Duncan took the rest. Methos' loud moan was a choked and broken sound, but Duncan knew he had never heard anything more beautiful and he worked hard to bring it forth again.
Duncan bobbed his head, sliding up off Methos' erection until he could swirl his tongue around the sensitive tip. He felt rather than saw the tremor that shivered through the other's lean body and he brought his hands to his lover's hips to steady him. Ducking his head, he took Methos deep again and in some far distant corner of his mind Duncan had a vague recollection of wanting this to be slow, of using a little more finesse. But right now, with Methos' hot length sliding between his lips, he realised that all that mattered was that it was something they both wanted, far more than any drawn out seduction.
He swallowed around his lover's cock, loving the choked sound that Methos made in response. The slender form trembled beneath his touch and the long fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair as though Methos were torn between wanting to grab Duncan's head and fuck his mouth mercilessly and just sliding to the floor in a boneless heap and letting the Highlander have his wicked way. Duncan danced his tongue over the weeping head of his lover's cock and felt the hands in his hair tighten momentarily, he didn't mind which option Methos chose, it felt too good just to be like this - to want and know he was wanted in return.
Duncan took Methos deep again and felt some indefinable change sweep through the lean body. The long fingers ceased their restless movements and a tension seemed to ease from his lover, spiralling down the drain with the lukewarm water. Duncan glanced up at his lover's face as he rose up from Methos' cock, seeing the pale length of throat working though no sound came out, water beading the smooth skin. Methos had let go, placed himself entirely in Duncan's hands, or mouth as the case may be - the eldest Immortal was his to do with as he pleased. The sudden realisation would have dropped the Highlander to his knees had he not already been on them and Duncan knew he was only moments away from coming himself, not because of the power such a submission gave him, but rather because of the trust it implied.
Determined to honour that trust Duncan took Methos' cock as deep as he could, swallowing rapidly around it, knowing the Ancient could be no better off than he. Methos' moan became a hoarse cry that echoed in the small room as the tension that had left his body suddenly returned. For the briefest of moments, everything was still and then the body beneath Duncan's hands and mouth jerked as Methos came. At the sight and sound of his lover's surrender Duncan felt his spine ignite and his own orgasm took him, but despite the ecstasy that flooded his brain, he refused to release Methos from his lips, feeling his lover's climax almost more strongly than his own. He swallowed rapidly, feeding his own pleasure from Methos' and feeling the tension slowly ease from them both.
Eventually time resumed its natural course and Duncan could feel the body against his grow heavy, as if it no longer possessed the strength to stand. He could feel that creeping lassitude in his own arms where he still held his lover and knew he hadn't the strength to hold him up much longer. Slowly and a little reluctantly, Duncan let his lover's cock slip from his mouth and his hands unlocked their grip on Methos' hips, feeling the glide of soft skin beneath his touch as Methos slowly slid down the shower wall, graceful even then.
Despite the protest of his knees and the fact that his muscles felt like jelly, Duncan twisted to sit beside his lover, glad for the support of the wall. He felt ridiculously warmed when, without a word, Methos shifted closer against him and let his head rest on the Highlander's shoulder. They sat in wordless contentment for a long minute while Duncan listened to the water pattering about them and the soft sound of his lover's breathing as their heartbeats finally slowed their frantic pace.
A subtle change in his lover's breathing brought Duncan from his dreamy reverie and he shrugged the shoulder his lover rested on, Methos' head came up slowly.
"What?" he demanded. It was probably meant to sound irritable, but the sleepy, sated expression on the Ancient's face robbed it of its bite.
"We can't fall asleep here," Duncan admonished, knowing he'd been as close to doing it as Methos. "Not unless you want to end up wrinkled enough for your age."
Methos scowled, but again the effect was rather spoiled by being too tired and content to make a real effort. Nevertheless, he straightened where he sat and looked toward the bathroom door, mentally measuring the distance and the effort required to get that far and then to the bed. Methos turned to look at Duncan and suddenly grinned, and Duncan knew Methos had just caught that same measuring look on his own face. The Highlander held out his hand and Methos smiled and took it and with no small amount of effort they managed to haul themselves up. Methos reached out a hand and shut off the water and the sudden absence of noise was startling.
Leaning on each other the two Immortals made their way slowly out of the bathroom, not bothering to dry off or do anything that required even the smallest amount of energy beyond what it took to reach their goal. They collapsed simultaneously onto the bed, naked, damp and thoroughly exhausted.
Duncan stared up at the ceiling and wondered if he had the energy to pull Methos close; it turned out to be irrelevant though as he felt Methos roll close to his side, pillowing his head on the Highlander's shoulder again. Duncan smiled and wrapped his arm around Methos' shoulders, savouring the closeness he felt to the ancient Immortal. But on the very cusp of sleep, Methos' apology and admission returned to haunt him and contentment fled taking sleep with it.
Silently Duncan berated himself for not having seen how hard it had been for his lover to share the Highlander's life, because looking back he *could* remember things, times when Methos had struggled with it. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty and he sighed softly. He was honestly surprised, now that he thought about it, that Methos had stayed as long as he had before taking action. Privately Duncan swore that if his lover needed times like this, away from their dangerous lives, then he'd do his best to give him that time.
A bony finger poked his side and Duncan looked down, startled to find himself meeting a pair of not-at-all sleepy eyes.
"Stop brooding, Highlander," Methos ordered imperiously, though a smile betrayed him. "You're keeping me awake."
"Sorry," Duncan murmured, not sure what else to say.
Methos laid his head back down, but it appeared the conversation wasn't over yet. "Mac… Duncan, it's not your fault - I knew what I was getting into when we started this."
Some day, Duncan thought, he would work out exactly how Methos always seemed to know what he was thinking. "I know," he replied quietly, "but you shouldn't have to be the one making all the concessions."
Methos apparently had no reply to that and Duncan hugged him closer. If Methos liked this island, and it seemed he had visited it before, then maybe he'd be amenable to the idea of taking a few more impromptu holidays here as well. "So, come here often?" Duncan inquired deliberately trying to lighten the mood.
Methos' shoulders hitched silently and he buried his face against Duncan's side. For a horrible moment Duncan wondered if he'd somehow managed to put his foot in it totally, but then Methos lifted his head, meeting Duncan's eyes, his own sparkling with mirth.
"Not as often as I'd like," he replied, voice straining with suppressed laughter. "But if we got some sleep, I'm sure we could improve on our score."
Chuckling softly, Duncan pulled Methos close again as sleep dragged at his eyelids. His last stray thought was that the ancient Immortal probably wouldn't mind too much that this was one Challenge Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod fully intended to meet.
FIN
10th April 2000
Comments appreciated.
Disclaimer: Methos and Mac don't belong to me *sniff* and neither does the concept of Immortality. I don't mean any harm by this and I don't make any profit; I just do it for fun and because the Muses can be terribly persuasive.
Rated: NC-17 for m/m sex
Warning: Slash
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Notes: PWP - absolutely and totally. Gratuitous Methos-worship herein. Written for myself and a friend because we both needed some fic and my Duncan Muse was staging a comeback :-) The result of a tired Saturday evening and an image spotted whilst channel-hopping, which goes to prove it really takes very little to set a Muse off ;-)
Summary: Everyone needs a break sometime.
Out of the Blue
Copyright Margaret Turner
1st April 2000
"At the beach. Join me? M."
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod carefully refolded the note and tucked it back into his pocket. When he'd first found the brief missive, sitting neatly propped on his pillow, it had sparked a panic of monumental proportions. Despite their argument of the night before, he had never really imagined that Methos would cut and run - after all, it was hardly the first time they had argued. But the old Immortal's minimal belongings had gone and Duncan had quite creatively cursed the challenger whose poor timing had precipitated the row.
It had been an old argument; Methos' caution versus Duncan's unwillingness to hide. They'd gone over it a hundred times, neither side ever winning, but they'd always made up afterwards. A wistful smile flitted over his face, in fact, given how good the making up usually was, Duncan was almost surprised they didn't fight more often.
Only when the panic had solidified in his gut like frozen lead, did it actually occur to the Highlander to read his lover's note. The cryptic message had been accompanied by a matchbook from an exclusive resort. They had only been together a year and while the worst of the secrets seemed to be out in the open, Duncan knew he still had a long way to go to understanding his ancient lover. The note had to be a good sign, but still Duncan was anxious - he had never wanted to chase Methos away. Ever.
Unforeseen complications at work had meant that it had taken the Highlander three whole days before he could finally follow his lover and every hour that had passed had forced him to wonder how long Methos was prepared to wait. But he'd taken the flight and found the island resort where he had been told that yes, Dr. Pierson was a registered guest and given directions to his lover's cabin. Still a little bemused by hearing Methos referred to as Dr. Pierson, the Highlander had made his way by well-tended paths through the tropical greenery to his lover's cabin.
The cabin was small and constructed entirely of white-washed wood; a pair of comfortable chairs and a small table sat on the porch overlooking what could almost be called a garden. The trees and shrubs had been cleared back from the cabin for some small distance before they became an almost impenetrable wall of green interspersed with the riotous colour of the local flowers, giving an illusion of isolation. A narrow track of sandy gravel led from the porch steps to meet with the path Duncan himself was on and, as he followed its meandering route with his eyes, he could see it branching off here and there to other cabins or resort facilities.
It was immediately obvious that his lover wasn't in the cabin from the lack of Presence, but it wasn't empty. Duncan met a diminutive and deeply-tanned cleaning lady just leaving. Using his considerable persuasive charm had proved unnecessary however, as she explained to him that Dr. Pierson had already informed her that he was expecting a 'guest' and that should he be out when said guest arrived then he was to be let in anyway. Maria, or so her nametag said, obligingly unlocked the door and let Duncan in with a broad smile. The reason for her smile became apparent as he took in the interior of the cabin.
The cabin was really just one big room; off to his right was a sitting area with a television and Methos' laptop on the coffee table, to his left was a neat kitchen alcove with an excellent range of appliances if they chose to make their own meals, but the focus of the room was undoubtedly the king-size bed and it was the only sleeping space, the two-seater couch being too small by half. A brief peek through a door to his left revealed a well-fitted bathroom with a large shower and a whirlpool bath and confirmed Duncan's immediate thought that this accommodation hadn't come cheap. He also had the sneaking suspicion that it hadn't been paid for on Adam Pierson's credit card either. Not lavish, but very comfortable and he already knew the staff were quick, efficient and, above all, discreet. Methos had excellent taste... in more ways than one, Duncan thought with a grin, reassured by surroundings that were obviously meant to be shared. The thought redoubled the urge to seek out his wayward lover and find out if that bed really was as comfortable as it looked.
First, however, Duncan took the opportunity to change into something a little more suitable for the climate. He dumped his bag on the couch to be unpacked later, and chose his clothes with care. He was fairly sure Methos wasn't mad at him, at least he hoped not, but it never hurt to weight the odds where the Eldest was concerned. A well-worn pair of faded blue cut-offs and a white vest fulfilled the decency requirement as well as enhancing his tan and physique. As Duncan made to leave, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and pulled the clasp from his hair, letting it fall in loose waves about his shoulders. He grinned at his reflection; before Methos he had never resorted to such blatant tactics, but there was something... fun about it all now, although maybe that was just because of the way Methos tended to demonstrate his appreciation.
Stepping out onto the porch, the Highlander debated where to begin his search. There was a town close by that he had passed through on his way from the airport and it seemed to have enough bars to satisfy even the ancient Immortal, but a brief consultation with Methos' note prompted Duncan to follow the path and the low roar of the sea down to the shore instead.
The sudden transition from shady greenery to the bright, almost white, sand and crystal blue ocean had the Highlander wincing and reaching hastily for his sunglasses. When the glare had been reduced to tolerable levels by the smoky glass, Duncan was able to take in his new surroundings.
He was almost at the very end of a gently curving beach; to his left the sand abruptly became tumbled rocks, a multitude of shallow pools sheltered beneath higher rocky outcroppings; to his right the beach continued on unbroken before disappearing around a bend. The muted sounds that drifted to him on the hot breeze suggested that beyond the corner the beach was well-populated, but here it was almost possible to believe the rest of the world no longer existed.
An elderly couple were sitting on loungers some way off to Duncan's right, relaxing in the shade of a huge beach umbrella, sipping drinks and reading. Not so far to his left someone had spread a large towel on the sand, strategically placed beneath the shade of some overhanging palm fronds. A familiar-looking rucksack was propped against the base of the tree at the head of the towel so Duncan wandered in that direction for a closer look, absently scanning inland for some sign of his lover.
A t-shirt had been half-stuffed into the top of the rucksack and a bottle of water was half-buried in the sand next to it to keep cool. But it was the four books sitting next to it that clinched it for Duncan; two cheap thrillers, one in English, one in French, a computer reference book and great thick thing that would have been far better suited to a microbiologist's shelf, judging by the title. Duncan smiled, he may not know all that much about his lover, but he did know that when it came to reading Methos was terrible - he'd read anything and everything from the latest scientific papers to cartoon strips and the backs of cereal packets. Duncan smiled to himself and straightened, Methos had to be around here somewhere, he never left his stuff unattended for long.
The Highlander began to turn a slow circle, scanning the surroundings for any sign of where the Ancient might have gone. The greenery was so thick at this point he doubted Methos could have gone inland from here, not without leaving a very visible track. His eyes lit on the path he had followed to get here, but the Ancient couldn't have gone back to the cabin either or Duncan would have seen him. The old couple were still there, paying him no attention, and Duncan briefly considered asking them if they knew where his lover had gone, but decided against it just yet. He turned further round, now taking in the white surf, the clear blue water and beyond that, where the sandy floor dropped abruptly away, the deep blue of the ocean, broken only by ripples of white where the gentle motion of the tides had been spurred into restlessness by the strong breeze.
Out there, black against the clear azure sky, a surfer was just catching a wave, heading inland, balancing the board with a graceful ease that Duncan had always envied in his lover. It took a second more for that thought to register and Duncan's mouth dropped open with a disbelieving laugh and an incredulous grin.
Methos?
Surfing?
What he wouldn't give for a camera right now - Joe would sell the bar to see this - that is, if it really was Methos. As if on cue, the black-clad figure came into range and he watched as Methos half-straightened in surprise at sensing Presence and nearly fell off as a result, but he recovered in time... just.
Duncan watched with what he knew must be a foolish smile as the other Immortal neared the shore. Then he moved forward to meet his lover as Methos' momentum slowed and he jumped off the board with a splash and a grin so bright that even Duncan's sunglasses couldn't shield him. As Methos waded out of the water, the surfboard tucked under his arm, Duncan was suddenly hard-pressed to remember his thoughts of only moments before.
Methos was clad in a wetsuit; a skin-tight, sleeveless, black wetsuit that clung to his lean figure. He shed crystal droplets of water as he moved and the shimmer of sunlight on the soaked fabric moulded to the muscles of the broad chest. The contrast between black suit and pale skin where the two met made the breadth of his shoulders obvious and the brightly coloured diagonal stripes up the sides of the suit emphasised the narrow hips.
Methos' short, dark hair was wet and sticking up in all directions and the normally pale skin had already acquired a light golden tan, despite only a few days of sun. Best of all though, was the delighted grin that turned faintly lascivious as emerald eyes swept up and down the Highlander's body. The ancient Immortal looked happy and relaxed... and altogether edible. Aphrodite rising from the waves had *nothing* on this.
"Hey Mac! Long time no see," Methos greeted cheerfully as they fell into step, side by side.
Duncan smiled, relieved; all had been forgiven. "Missed you too, Methos," he replied softly, sure that no-one could overhear. He didn't let himself bask in the pleased smile his lover favoured him with, he had something to get out of the way first. "I'm sorry."
Methos planted his board in the sand by his towel and took a swig from the bottle of water, grimacing faintly at the lukewarm flavour. "I'm sorry too, Duncan. It wasn't your fault some young idiot thought he could make a name for himself. I was just feeling twitchy - I'm not used to being so... vulnerable," the admission was made with an uncomfortable shrug. "I needed a break."
Duncan smiled, realising that with his lover's admission he'd been given far more than a mere apology. He waved a hand at the beach and the waves that still frothed on the shoreline, "Is that what this is?"
Methos grinned, "Something like that, besides I didn't want to get out of practice."
The Highlander chuckled, voicing his thought of earlier, "I wish I'd had a camera - Joe would have sold the bar for a photo like that."
Methos grinned in response, "Shame," he said with mock-sincerity. Then he arched an inquisitive eyebrow, "Does this mean you've never tried it?"
Duncan regarded his lover tolerantly, "You know I haven't."
Methos smirked, knowing the Highlander was referring to the Eldest's perusal of the Highlander's Chronicles during his time as a Watcher. "I could teach you, you know," Methos offered, only half-jokingly. "You're already pretty well co-ordinated, you'd pick it up in no time." The speculative smile became a leer, "Besides I bet you'd look pretty good in a wetsuit."
Duncan laughed: Methos' mind was apparently running on parallel tracks to his own. "Not as good as you," he replied honestly and captured his lover for a long overdue kiss hello.
Methos' lips were warm and pliant against Duncan's and as he dipped his tongue inside the welcoming mouth he could taste a hint of the sea, an unusual complement to his ancient lover's taste. Duncan deepened the kiss further, seeking out more to feed the craving that had sprung on him unawares, his hands snaking around Methos' back to pull him closer and loving the way the Ancient seemed to melt against him.
Something wet brushed against the back of his hand, puzzling Duncan until he realised it was the long zipper tag that enabled a person to suit up without help. Smiling into the kiss Duncan snagged the tag with his fingers and carefully began to pull, congratulating himself on getting it almost halfway down before Methos noticed.
"Mac!" Methos squawked, breaking out of the Highlander's arms and reaching back over his shoulder to try and catch the tag to pull it back up. Duncan laughed as Methos struggled with the suddenly unco-operative zip.
"It may be a private beach, Mac," the ancient Immortal was telling him. "But they do draw the line somewhere."
The comment sparked a sudden mischievous curiosity in the too-often dour Scot and Duncan let his eyes wander appreciatively over his lover's trim form encased in the tight suit. "What do you wear under that anyway?" he inquired a touch too innocently.
Methos' flustered look vanished to be replaced with a smile that was downright devilish and damn sexy, his green eyes vibrant with humour and lust. "Make it back to the cabin, Highlander, and I'll let you find out." And with that the ancient Immortal disappeared into the greenery, leaving Duncan standing alone on the beach.
Duncan needed no further hint, his shorts were already uncomfortably tight reminding him that it really was about time they got to the making up part of their reunion. The previously impenetrable-seeming wall of green was no impediment to the Highlander's progress this time around.
Duncan reached the clearing around the cabin just in time to see Methos climb the steps to the porch and the view it presented him with doubled his speed.
As it was Methos had barely made it through the door before Duncan overtook him, pushing the Ancient back against the door and slamming it shut at the same time. Not that Methos appeared to mind at all, simply stepping in close to his lover and moving both of them further into the room with a sinuous motion. Then abruptly they were devouring each other with a passion out of all proportion to their three day separation and this time when Duncan's fingers found the zipper tag Methos merely breathed encouragement into the kiss. It was only fair anyway, Duncan's vest had gone within moments.
When the danger of passing out forced them to break apart they did so reluctantly, nuzzling softly as the immediate intensity faded. But having caught their breaths, Methos put a hand lightly on Duncan's chest, keeping them apart. When Duncan looked at him, confused, Methos smiled reassuringly, "I need a shower first, Duncan; saltwater itches." Methos pulled himself free of the Highlander's encircling arms, but softened the loss with a quick kiss, "I promise I'll be quick."
Duncan nodded, relieved and a little rueful, and let him go. Well, he supposed, at least this way they'd probably make it to the bed - he'd had some serious doubts on that score earlier. But instead of moving to said piece of furniture, Duncan went to the bathroom door. Leaning against the doorpost, he watched as Methos peeled off the clinging wetsuit, revealing long limbs and smooth skin tanned a light gold. As the suit was pushed from narrow hips, Methos' erection sprang free and Duncan realised his suspicions had been correct; Methos hadn't been wearing anything beneath it. The thought made his own cock throb behind its denim prison, but Methos had already disappeared into the shower, an indistinct outline behind frosted glass and running water.
Methos had promised to be quick, Duncan told himself, trying to will his aching cock back to more tolerable levels of arousal, but he effectively sabotaged his own efforts when he made the mistake of looking up. The movements behind the glass screen were blurred, but Duncan had far too good an imagination where his lover was concerned. He could picture the patter of glittering droplets across the broad shoulders, becoming rivulets as they streamed down the muscled contours of his lover's chest and back, the hollow of his spine, the crease of his ass. Trailing all the way down, clinging to the smooth skin as though reluctant to be parted from its delicious warmth.
Duncan took an unconscious step forward, accidentally kicking the wetsuit. Looking down, he suddenly found himself absurdly envious of the black material huddled in a damp heap on the floor; the suit had fit to Methos like a second skin, wrapping around the ancient Immortal and protecting him. That thought sparked a not-unfamiliar yearning in the Highlander - that he could do the same, be so close to his lover, offer his protection to someone as fiercely independent as the Ancient and have it accepted. His shorts grew tighter and Duncan jerked his eyes from the floor only to see his lover's casual grace as he moved beneath the water that caressed the newly tanned body, twining around the long limbs and seeping into the soft skin.
Damn.
"Duncan?" Methos queried, only mildly surprised when the naked and extremely aroused Highlander pulled open the shower door and climbed in.
"Took too long, Methos," Duncan said by way of explanation as he pushed the ancient Immortal to the back wall of the shower, pressing his too-hot body against that of his wet lover, claiming Methos' mouth again for a hungry kiss. From the way Methos pressed back against him, welcoming Duncan's tongue into his mouth, it didn't appear that Methos was too upset by the interruption.
Broad, sword-calloused hands skated over wet flesh, following the narrow rivulets of water, brushing them impatiently from *his* lover. Duncan could feel Methos' own deceptively delicate hands glide over his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there, before tangling in the rapidly water-logged hair, holding Duncan's head in place as Methos led the kiss.
Duncan let Methos take total possession of his mouth, drinking in the unique taste of the Ancient, feeling it soothe nerves he hadn't realised had been rubbed so raw by his lover's abrupt departure. He sucked hungrily on Methos' tongue, needing this taste of him, needing him this close and closer. The lukewarm water spilling over them slicked the movement of flesh against flesh, hard cocks glancing against each other setting off shivers of helpless need in both Immortals. Duncan didn't even register that Methos' hands were moving until they reached his ass, pulling Duncan tighter against him.
Duncan broke the kiss with a gasp as their cocks ground together and Methos whimpered at the loss. But Duncan wouldn't let him suffer that separation for long, the sudden shock had cleared his head a little and he had plans now. Despite the temptation of those swollen lips, rather than meet Methos' mouth again as it sought his, Duncan lowered his head to his lover's sensitive throat. He licked and nibbled at the long column of vulnerable flesh, pausing once to mark his lover with a hard bite, relishing the moan it brought to Methos' lips and the reflexive clutching of strong fingers on his ass.
Duncan continued his ministrations and Methos didn't even try to guide his lover's actions, instead giving himself over to the insistent pleasure of Duncan's mouth on his skin, letting the Highlander take them where he would. Which, at the moment, was down.
Duncan placed a line of sucking kisses from the hollow of Methos' throat down the centre of his chest while his hands travelled up the old Immortal's sides. Methos' nipples were already tight buds when Duncan reached them and the quick flicker of his tongue over the sensitive flesh caused a gasp and Methos' hands flew up to tangle again in the Highlander's hair. Duncan smiled against his lover's skin before trapping the tiny bud between his teeth, not quite hard enough to hurt, and flicked his tongue over it again and again while his other hand crept up to draw circles around the other nipple, pausing occasionally to pinch the tender bud.
Methos' breathing was becoming erratic, interspersed with whimpers and moans as the Highlander continued his loving torture. Duncan could feel Methos' long fingers kneading his skull, the catlike reflex one he was sure his lover was not conscious of at this point. Duncan freed the abused flesh from the grip of his teeth and kissed it softly in apology before glancing up. Methos' head was thrown back, exposing the long length of his throat and Duncan could see the movement as he swallowed, struggling to breathe and unable to halt the small sounds that escaped his lips. Duncan could feel his cock throb hard each time one of those sounds slipped out.
"Please," it was the only word Methos seemed able to form and without any conscious command of his own, Duncan dropped to his knees, ignoring the protest they sang out at the hard floor of the shower. Methos' hands on his head felt like a benediction as Duncan came eye-level with his lover's proud cock. It looked as hard and desperate as Duncan felt and it took no prompting at all for Duncan to wrap his lips around the weeping head and lap at the fluid leaking from the tip, savouring that first intimate taste.
Duncan felt like a starving man at a feast; he wanted to swallow his lover whole, devour him, draw his essence from him and drink it down. But stronger still was the strangest urge, not to take, but to give; to shelter the ancient Immortal, to take him within Duncan himself, as close as they could possibly get, and protect him any way he could. The two desires were surprisingly compatible.
Duncan slowly lowered his head, taking his lover's cock part way into his mouth, trailing his tongue over its length. Then with a deliberate swallowing motion, Duncan took the rest. Methos' loud moan was a choked and broken sound, but Duncan knew he had never heard anything more beautiful and he worked hard to bring it forth again.
Duncan bobbed his head, sliding up off Methos' erection until he could swirl his tongue around the sensitive tip. He felt rather than saw the tremor that shivered through the other's lean body and he brought his hands to his lover's hips to steady him. Ducking his head, he took Methos deep again and in some far distant corner of his mind Duncan had a vague recollection of wanting this to be slow, of using a little more finesse. But right now, with Methos' hot length sliding between his lips, he realised that all that mattered was that it was something they both wanted, far more than any drawn out seduction.
He swallowed around his lover's cock, loving the choked sound that Methos made in response. The slender form trembled beneath his touch and the long fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair as though Methos were torn between wanting to grab Duncan's head and fuck his mouth mercilessly and just sliding to the floor in a boneless heap and letting the Highlander have his wicked way. Duncan danced his tongue over the weeping head of his lover's cock and felt the hands in his hair tighten momentarily, he didn't mind which option Methos chose, it felt too good just to be like this - to want and know he was wanted in return.
Duncan took Methos deep again and felt some indefinable change sweep through the lean body. The long fingers ceased their restless movements and a tension seemed to ease from his lover, spiralling down the drain with the lukewarm water. Duncan glanced up at his lover's face as he rose up from Methos' cock, seeing the pale length of throat working though no sound came out, water beading the smooth skin. Methos had let go, placed himself entirely in Duncan's hands, or mouth as the case may be - the eldest Immortal was his to do with as he pleased. The sudden realisation would have dropped the Highlander to his knees had he not already been on them and Duncan knew he was only moments away from coming himself, not because of the power such a submission gave him, but rather because of the trust it implied.
Determined to honour that trust Duncan took Methos' cock as deep as he could, swallowing rapidly around it, knowing the Ancient could be no better off than he. Methos' moan became a hoarse cry that echoed in the small room as the tension that had left his body suddenly returned. For the briefest of moments, everything was still and then the body beneath Duncan's hands and mouth jerked as Methos came. At the sight and sound of his lover's surrender Duncan felt his spine ignite and his own orgasm took him, but despite the ecstasy that flooded his brain, he refused to release Methos from his lips, feeling his lover's climax almost more strongly than his own. He swallowed rapidly, feeding his own pleasure from Methos' and feeling the tension slowly ease from them both.
Eventually time resumed its natural course and Duncan could feel the body against his grow heavy, as if it no longer possessed the strength to stand. He could feel that creeping lassitude in his own arms where he still held his lover and knew he hadn't the strength to hold him up much longer. Slowly and a little reluctantly, Duncan let his lover's cock slip from his mouth and his hands unlocked their grip on Methos' hips, feeling the glide of soft skin beneath his touch as Methos slowly slid down the shower wall, graceful even then.
Despite the protest of his knees and the fact that his muscles felt like jelly, Duncan twisted to sit beside his lover, glad for the support of the wall. He felt ridiculously warmed when, without a word, Methos shifted closer against him and let his head rest on the Highlander's shoulder. They sat in wordless contentment for a long minute while Duncan listened to the water pattering about them and the soft sound of his lover's breathing as their heartbeats finally slowed their frantic pace.
A subtle change in his lover's breathing brought Duncan from his dreamy reverie and he shrugged the shoulder his lover rested on, Methos' head came up slowly.
"What?" he demanded. It was probably meant to sound irritable, but the sleepy, sated expression on the Ancient's face robbed it of its bite.
"We can't fall asleep here," Duncan admonished, knowing he'd been as close to doing it as Methos. "Not unless you want to end up wrinkled enough for your age."
Methos scowled, but again the effect was rather spoiled by being too tired and content to make a real effort. Nevertheless, he straightened where he sat and looked toward the bathroom door, mentally measuring the distance and the effort required to get that far and then to the bed. Methos turned to look at Duncan and suddenly grinned, and Duncan knew Methos had just caught that same measuring look on his own face. The Highlander held out his hand and Methos smiled and took it and with no small amount of effort they managed to haul themselves up. Methos reached out a hand and shut off the water and the sudden absence of noise was startling.
Leaning on each other the two Immortals made their way slowly out of the bathroom, not bothering to dry off or do anything that required even the smallest amount of energy beyond what it took to reach their goal. They collapsed simultaneously onto the bed, naked, damp and thoroughly exhausted.
Duncan stared up at the ceiling and wondered if he had the energy to pull Methos close; it turned out to be irrelevant though as he felt Methos roll close to his side, pillowing his head on the Highlander's shoulder again. Duncan smiled and wrapped his arm around Methos' shoulders, savouring the closeness he felt to the ancient Immortal. But on the very cusp of sleep, Methos' apology and admission returned to haunt him and contentment fled taking sleep with it.
Silently Duncan berated himself for not having seen how hard it had been for his lover to share the Highlander's life, because looking back he *could* remember things, times when Methos had struggled with it. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty and he sighed softly. He was honestly surprised, now that he thought about it, that Methos had stayed as long as he had before taking action. Privately Duncan swore that if his lover needed times like this, away from their dangerous lives, then he'd do his best to give him that time.
A bony finger poked his side and Duncan looked down, startled to find himself meeting a pair of not-at-all sleepy eyes.
"Stop brooding, Highlander," Methos ordered imperiously, though a smile betrayed him. "You're keeping me awake."
"Sorry," Duncan murmured, not sure what else to say.
Methos laid his head back down, but it appeared the conversation wasn't over yet. "Mac… Duncan, it's not your fault - I knew what I was getting into when we started this."
Some day, Duncan thought, he would work out exactly how Methos always seemed to know what he was thinking. "I know," he replied quietly, "but you shouldn't have to be the one making all the concessions."
Methos apparently had no reply to that and Duncan hugged him closer. If Methos liked this island, and it seemed he had visited it before, then maybe he'd be amenable to the idea of taking a few more impromptu holidays here as well. "So, come here often?" Duncan inquired deliberately trying to lighten the mood.
Methos' shoulders hitched silently and he buried his face against Duncan's side. For a horrible moment Duncan wondered if he'd somehow managed to put his foot in it totally, but then Methos lifted his head, meeting Duncan's eyes, his own sparkling with mirth.
"Not as often as I'd like," he replied, voice straining with suppressed laughter. "But if we got some sleep, I'm sure we could improve on our score."
Chuckling softly, Duncan pulled Methos close again as sleep dragged at his eyelids. His last stray thought was that the ancient Immortal probably wouldn't mind too much that this was one Challenge Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod fully intended to meet.
FIN
10th April 2000
Comments appreciated.