Notes: Thank you very much to my terrific betas Ilexa and Rhiannonhero the extra super-duper hand-holder! All remaining mistakes are my own. Thank you to Nerodi for help with the title.
I only post warnings when something is very explicit, so caveat lector.
Duncan wasn't certain who had initiated the kiss. All he knew was that Methos' lips were every bit as sweet as he'd imagined, his skin every bit as warm, smooth and addictive.
He'd been fantasizing about the old man for years without acting on it, the sexual tension mounting between them like a slow gas leak. He couldn't say what about tonight had finally provided the spark to spur them into action, but he knew the chain reaction once begun must reach its inevitable conclusion, and Duncan found himself eager to get there. Blind groping wasn't enough. He wanted to feel and see everything, wanted to feel naked chest to naked chest, and Mac broke the kiss, yanking off Methos' sweater unceremoniously.
Methos allowed it. He stood there breathing hard, his lips red and swollen, giving Duncan a dark look like he was prepared to devour him. Not if I devour you first, Duncan thought, and he shoved Methos up against the wall and kissed him hard like kissing was a way of doing battle.
But Duncan wasn't sure what he was fighting because Methos wasn't resisting. He opened to the fierce kisses, absorbing them like a sponge, even splaying his legs to allow Duncan to lean closer, to have the full body contact he craved. The kiss of skin on skin. A small extra sensation where each hard nipple pricked against him.
They rubbed against each other as they rocked into the kiss, the friction making Duncan's skin buzz. A violent need tore through him, a passion so strong it felt like fury, and he frantically tore open Methos' jeans shoving his hands inside. Methos' gasp into the kiss was all the reward and encouragement Duncan needed. He pulled Methos' groin tightly against his own and ground them together, throwing his head back to groan in relief and pleasure. It felt right so he kept doing it, grinding his hips in a circular motion over and over. They were both moaning loudly now with each wave of pleasure, and it was building too fast. Duncan realized he was going to come right here up against the wall if he didn't slow it down.
Forcing his hips to still, Duncan bit and sucked his way up Methos' neck, licked over the shell of an ear and growled, "Bed. Now. Naked."
For once he must have rendered the old man speechless because Methos simply slipped out from beneath Duncan and moved toward the bed. Duncan followed, both of them shedding their remaining clothes along the way.
Methos lay back on the bed, displaying himself without a trace of modesty. Duncan's eyes went straight to Methos' cock, dark and straining against the pale skin of his stomach. Every muscle in Methos' chest and abdomen was well defined, and Duncan found he wanted to lick and bite each one in turn. He lay down with that intention, but was distracted by the sensual bow of Methos' mouth. Duncan began kissing him again, and it was hungry and right.
No time for thought. Just need. He needed more contact again, skin against skin. He draped himself across Methos' body. Duncan loved how hot Methos' erection felt against his thigh. He loved the rasp of hair from Methos' thigh against his own hard cock. It was a delicious tease to raise up on his hands and just lightly brush against Methos.
"You're killing me," Methos moaned and grasped Duncan's ass in an attempt to pull him back down.
Duncan resisted, but shifted letting the sensitive head of his cock butt at Methos' coarse pubic hair and then against his hard shaft. The contact seemed to ignite another explosion in Mac and his hips jerked down of their own accord.
Methos' arms and legs wrapped around Mac locking him in place. "Oh god. Oh Methos," Duncan moaned, and he licked every inch of delicious slick, salty skin he could find, rutting hard and babbling like a crazy man, calling out to Methos, calling him one thousand things divine and profane.
Mac slipped a hand between them and grasped them together. He jerked hard and fast like he wanted it. Like he needed it. Knew it was too fast, but knew he wouldn't be able to stop this time. Couldn't stop. Couldn't think. Just harder, faster until he exploded with an overload of pleasure, slamming his mouth against Methos' as he came. A forced kiss to drown out the sob.
Duncan continued to rock his hips and suck at Methos' lips as he came down from his orgasm high. Methos' hand was moving in his hair diffusing the tension as Duncan shuddered with the aftershocks.
Duncan slumped against Methos, letting his head fall into the inviting crook of Methos' neck. He felt like he'd never been more comfortable in his life. The world's oldest living immortal was also the world's most comfortable mattress. But there was a pressing reminder that Methos did not share his contentment.
Now that the urgency had passed Duncan took the time to explore Methos' body as he had wanted to. He ran his hands up Methos' arms, appreciating the solid feel of his biceps. He smoothed his hands over Methos' shoulders then slid his hands down, circling the delicate nipples with his finger tips.
Duncan took Methos' mouth in a slow kiss, lush sweeps of tongue, taking the time to fully taste. He continued to rub his hands up and down over the smooth skin of Methos' sides, appreciating the feel of hard muscles underneath.
When he had Methos whimpering into the kiss with each stroke of his hands Duncan moved to slowly taste and suck Methos' neck. He took Methos' racing pulse with his tongue and felt the quivering need singing through the body beneath him. Duncan wanted to make Methos come. Wanted to feel and taste this man's ecstasy and know that he was the cause of it. He suddenly felt he needed that as much as he'd needed his own release earlier and began to kiss and suck his way down the long, lean body toward his goal.
Methos sighed appreciatively as Duncan made his way down, but muttered and twitched with impatience when Duncan settled in to lap and nibble the crease of groin and thigh. Duncan continued to administer a tongue bath to the salty tender skin despite Methos' obvious attempts to shift him closer.
When Duncan finally raised his head to look at Methos' cock fear settled icily in his gut. It was intimidating, large and heavy with blood and smeared with come from Duncan's earlier orgasm. Duncan brushed his fingertips over the shaft and Methos arched and cried out. "Yes. More."
Fascinated with the way it filled his hand, Duncan grasped Methos' cock firmly and jacked in a steady rhytm. Methos moaned brokenly. Knowing that Methos was close and that he could bring him off easily with just his hand, Duncan wavered in his earlier resolve. But then he looked up to meet Methos' eyes. They were almost completely closed, just dark green slits reflecting the pale moonlight coming in the window. Even so he felt there was a challenge in them, an accusation of cowardice. Duncan pulled Methos' cock towards him, opened wide and quickly took down as much as he could before he could think better of it.
"Ahhh." Methos let out a noise that was more surprise than pleasure. That was no good. Duncan pulled off and tried going slower. He sucked at the tip with just his lips, then let his tongue lap languorously over the slit. Methos surged forward and made a noise of pure ecstasy. Duncan lapped several times with serious concentration to hear it again and was rewarded. He wondered what noise Methos would make if he sucked down farther. It was a lot like the sound of a rusty steel vault being opened for the first time in twenty years, if a steel vault could be within a few strokes of orgasm.
"Yes, yes, yes," Methos chanted, and Duncan tried to relax and take it all in as Methos grabbed his head and thrust up into his mouth.
"Oh Mac, yes, there, just . . ." the old man stiffened and seemed to teeter on the brink for a moment before Mac found himself choking as Methos thrust hard into his throat and came.
Duncan pulled back and managed to swallow some of the sticky, salty fluid. More ran down his chin as Methos continued to pulse in his mouth. Duncan pulled off completely and struggled to get some air and disguise his choking. The palm caressing his cheek went a long way to helping him regain his equilibrium.
Pausing to wipe his face on the sheet Duncan crawled back up the bed. He surveyed Methos. His eyes were closed, his muscles lax, and a look of pure contentment was on his face. He was sticky with come and marked all over with bruises and bite marks that would be gone in a few minutes, yet Duncan had caused them nonetheless. A wave of remorse hit him. He'd been waiting for his first time with Methos for so long. Always envisioning it as slow and tender, and instead he'd let his hunger drive him. None of the depth of emotion he felt for his endearing, bewildering friend had come through in that vicious fuck.
"I'm sorry," Duncan murmured in Methos' ear, nuzzling it gently.
Methos' eyes shot open. "Sorry? Whatever for?"
"I didn't mean to be so rough."
"That was rough?"
"I lost control. I hurt you," Mac said, keeping his gaze focused on the pillow.
"Mac, look at me." Methos sat up, and a strong hand on Duncan's jaw forced him to gaze into Methos' dark, serious eyes. "That," he waved his hand in the air between them, "was not rough. And even if it were," Methos raised his eyebrows suggestively, "I like it rough."
"But I don't," Duncan sighed, using his thumb to wipe away a smear of blood on Methos' upper lip, revealing whole flesh underneath. "Especially not for a first time with someone I—care so deeply about."
Methos didn't seem to react to the declaration or the pause within it. He just ran a hand through Mac's hair and laughed. "I'll bet that was the first time you ever sucked cock, too."
"Was it that bad?" Duncan could feel the blood burning his cheeks.
"On the contrary, it was wonderful, and I think you have a fine career ahead of you as a cocksucker." Methos' silky voice slid through Duncan's senses. "I'm just a good judge of character. And when I met you, you most definitely did not seem like a cocksucker. Plus I have a little inside information." Methos winked.
The condescension irritated Mac. "I do have some experience with men, you know," he grumbled.
"What, the occasional soldierly circle-jerk? That hardly counts," Methos scoffed.
Mac felt himself blush more fiercely, "Yes, I've done circ—er—mutual masturbation." He stammered. He normally didn't mind speaking frankly about sex. Why did this feel so different? "And um, received a couple blow jobs from men," Methos gave a dismissive snort, "and received anal sex."
"Only received? Color me surprised." Methos was grinning now and his eyes sparkled with amusement.
The words were out before Mac could even stop himself, "Well I wasn't exactly willing." Oh, right. That's why this was so hard to talk about.
Methos made a sound like he'd been punched in the gut.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Duncan found himself explaining woodenly. "I said ‘yes' at first," a long-suppressed memory of a hand on his neck, grinding his face into a hard, lumpy mattress flashed into Duncan's mind, "but then I didn't like it, and I asked him to stop . . ." a searing pain traveling up his spine, the suffocating smell of sweat and sex everywhere, "and he didn't," the horrifying feel of his flesh tearing.
Methos laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Duncan wondered why Methos was trembling until he realized the tremors were his own. "And you couldn't fight him off," Methos murmured. Duncan had never heard such a gentle tone from his friend.
"I—" Muscular, hairy legs kneeling over his own. Strong arms pinning his arms to his sides. Drowning in helplessness. Cruel, unrelenting thrusts, searing deep into his body, splitting him in two. Drowning in pain. "I did eventually." A loud crack and a shout of pleasure turned to pain as his elbow connected with a rib. Sticky come running down his legs as he ran and ran and ran. The most shameful part of all. That he had run and never looked back, never returned to avenge his sullied honor. Had to carry the terrible, black shame everywhere, feeling like everyone who saw him could see, unable to look another person in the eye for fear of what he'd see reflected back at him. Until he'd learned to forget. And now he remembered and Methos knew. Methos could see his shame.
If only he could stop shaking and get more air in his lungs. He couldn't focus on what Methos was saying. Duncan jumped up out of the bed, pacing aimlessly. The pain as his shin caught the low coffee table brought him back to the room.
" . . . look at me, Mac, Duncan, please look at me."
He turned toward the reassuring voice. The past still overloading his senses.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"Nobody knows," Duncan whispered fiercely. It was true. He'd never told anyone, not even Tessa. Especially not Tessa. "You don't know everything about me just from reading my chronicles."
"I know, of course not. I'm sorry, Mac. I'm so sorry." Methos' voice seemed to shake in sync with Duncan's body. After a long silence he asked softly, "You haven't been with another man since?"
Duncan shook his head. It hadn't been a conscious decision, but he realized now that he'd carefully avoided any potential male suitors since that time.
Duncan resumed his fitful pacing around the room, as if he hoped to find a safe haven where the memories couldn't reach him. He didn't like the shuddery shaking sound of his breathing. A moment of impotent rage flared in him, and then subsided with the return of that gentle, reassuring touch on his shoulder. Duncan stilled and focused on taking in more air. Tried to focus on nothing but the solid presence by his side. He felt himself calming slowly as the rush of memory wore itself out.
"I am truly touched that you trust me. Thank you." There was an infinite tenderness in Methos' tone. It was wonderful to discover that he was capable of such depths of sincerity.
"You're nothing like him," Duncan lied. Like Methos he had been handsome, charming, and a master manipulator. How else could he have gotten Duncan on all fours in his bed?
"Duncan, we'll never do anything you don't want to do."
Duncan looked up sharply. "I know. But I do want to. I want to experience everything with you," he insisted.
"All right," Methos conceded in a surprisingly choked voice, "but we'll wait until you feel ready. We can wait as long as you want."
"No, I am ready. I want to do it soon. You're nothing like him," he said, seeing the truth of it this time. "You would never hurt me."
"I would never want to hurt you."
"You would never hurt me," Duncan corrected firmly. "I was very young and stupid back then and desperate to please. I barely knew him. But I know you. I love you."
Methos' arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. Methos wasn't disgusted by him. He felt safe, protected. "That's rather convenient," the old man murmured, a smile in his voice.
"Because I care very deeply about you."
Mac had to laugh at hearing his own cowardly words repeated back to him. He playfully knocked Methos back on to the bed, pinning Methos and kissing him. Duncan let the comfortable joy wash over him and chase away the last of the phantom dread. Then he pulled back and asked in his best seductive voice, "Care very deeply?"
Methos smiled up at him tenderly. "Fine. Because I love you too." His voice dropped to a frightening register. "I'd like to kill anyone who hurts you."
"Just kill the memories," Duncan responded thickly. "That's enough." He settled down against the firm chest feeling peaceful, feeling like he could drift off to sleep at any moment. "Methos?"
"I'm glad I told you."
A hand came up rhythmically stroking his hair in a soothing cadence, and Mac sighed in contentment. "Which one?"
"Ah," was the quiet response, "me too. Go to sleep, Highlander. And when you wake up, I'll be here too."
Duncan drifted gently to sleep on the lullaby of an ancient heart beat.The End
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