Rated: NC-17 for homoerotic content
Post-Indiscretions D/M PWP
A sex scene for Suze, who's been very, very, patient, and has used remarkable restraint in not outright attacking our hairboy. Call this makeup homework, for thirty odd chapters of Duncan and Blair. <g>
Lay Your Hands On Me
"Just because I don't like to fight, doesn't mean that I can't!"
It felt damn good to kill him. There aren't many people I bother to hate for more than a hundred years or so, but Morgan Walker is one of a handful of men it's almost worth taking a quickening to kill. The truth is, that after centuries of fighting, taking a head is easy, it's very simple. I don't feel much when my arm comes down and severs head from body. A bit of nervous anticipation, but that's for what's coming, not for Walker. It's the seconds after that are so horrible. I close my eyes, listening to his head roll and his body falling to the ground. I'm trying not to panic, to brace myself for what's coming, but the truth is, I'm not ready for it, and fire hits my brain much too fast, frying my nerves.
No matter what the circumstances are, where or when or who, I've always hated this. You would think I'd get used to it, after so many years of practice, but it's not the sort of thing a body can become accustomed to, like death. My nerves are still healing from electrocuting us on the power box when the lightning strikes me. I'm always trying to avoid it, always trying to make another contingency plan. This time, I knew it wasn't going to end any other way the moment I drew my sword, but old habits die hard.
The lightning spirals through me, agony cripples me and I twist in the Quickening's power, hearing my shout echoing off the concrete pillars. I'm totally disoriented in the eye of the lightning, I don't know which way is up or down or where I am. I'm fighting him inside me, although part of my brain is trying to tell me not to, to submit to the pain twisting up my body and let him settle. Vaugely, I'm aware of the crackles and pops from the power box, fried out by the lightning storm, and the lights going out all around me.
The rotten bastard is inside me now, and I have to deal with it, with his memories and his anger. Greed, and hunger to possess, to consume, overwhelms me. An agonizing jolt of lust runs through me, straight down to my cock, which hardens in a painful instant, trying to stand straight up in my jeans. I see Charlotte, and all the others, flashing before my eyes, all his women. I stagger, falling to my knees, waves of anger, lust and madness pushing me down until I can't move, can't see or hear my own screams.
Then it's over, and there is the painful sizzle of energy over my nerves, the last of the lightning sinking into my bones. I'll feel the buzz for the next several hours, in my joints, in my head, but mostly in my groin; my cock is so hard it's difficult to move. It hurts to walk when I drag myself back up to my feet, my balls feel like they're going to explode if I don't get some relief. My blood is pounding and my heart is palpating so hard it feels like it will burst from my chest. I don't remember the last one being this bad, this haze of lust so strong I can barely think through it.
Outside, Joe and Amy are waiting for me. I shrug off Joe's hand on my arm, and decline the invitation to follow them back to the bar. They don't argue, they have plenty to talk about. I'm walking fast, unwilling to admit my direction to myself until I'm almost there. The river, the barge, Duncan's empty space; where at least I can lay on his bed and smell his scent and be where his presence is all around me.
The barge is still bare and austere, stripped down to essentials for the warrior who has no room for anything frivolous or ambiguous or complicated. I feel it as soon as I walk in the door, it's as if Duncan's space rejects me and my presence. There's nowhere to sit, nowhere to hang my coat or throw my keyring. At least there's alcohol. No beer in the fridge, mind, but scotch under the sink. I help myself, finding a glass large enough to reduce trips back to the kitchen for refills.
I carry it to his bed, kicking off my shoes and gulping his liquor. That's better, a little. I curl under the covers, almost glad that he's not here, that I can do this and know that nothing will happen; he's on the other side of the channel, paying homage to another of his proteges. I push my face into the sheets, grinding my hips into the soft bed beneath me. It's better, a tiny bit of relief.
I hear steps on the walkway, and feel a presence coming closer. It clashes strongly with the quickening energy still flowing through me; Duncan. It's like being electrocuted all over again. I sit up, crossing my legs under the covers as he enters, calling my name. Dammit! The one and only time I don't want to see him, he walks in on me. I don't feel like explaining myself, I don't feel like hearing all about Claudia's remarkable talent, all I wanted was twenty minutes to jack off on his bed, is that so much to ask for?
"Methos? What the hell are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in London attending Claudia Jardin." I'm startled, and irritated by both his presence and his question. I hate the way he constantly demands I explain myself and my presence in his life. He refuses to simply accept it.
"I just got back, I took the ferry" he tells me, setting a suitcase down near the door. "This is unexpected."
"Is it?" I'm glad he doesn't come any closer. I can't get up, so I defend my position. "You're late, you missed the fireworks. I just needed a place to crash out for awhile. I'll go..."
"No! I mean, I'm glad you're here, please stay. What did I miss?" He's taking his coat off, setting the katana on it's stand.
"Joe has a daughter, who's a Watcher, and I took a quickening."
"I figured..." He murmurs, a hand motion explaining the extra energy we can both feel crackling in the air. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I bark at him, able to throw off the covers now. I grab my glass, trying not to drink it too fast.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" His expression is open, concern in his big brown eyes. I never expected that. Something more along the lines of 'what horror from your past have you brought back to haunt us now, Methos?' Or some shock over Joe's parental status, not this intense, scrutinizing, worried once-over his eyes are giving me.
"That's a surprise." He's being sarcastic, going to the kitchen to fill the teakettle with water and putting it on the burner. There is acceptance in his sarcasm, and a familiarity I find soothing. "Do you want a cup of tea?"
No, what I want is for you to fuck me senseless, and let me come about five times. "No, thank you, scotch will do just fine."
"A bad one?" He asks, his gaze coming after me from across the room. I get up, and then sit down on the bed again, cross-legged on top of the covers because there's nowhere else to sit.
"As opposed to?" I snap back, the words out before I can stop them.
"You're welcome here, you know that." Duncan tells me quietly, getting himself a teabag from a tin on the shelves behind him.
"Highland hospitality never fails." I finish off the rest of the scotch, walking up to the other side of the counter to ask for a refill. "May I have another?"
"I suppose so." He nods, bending down to get the bottle and pour me a second glass.
"Is Joe okay?"
"Yes, I imagine he is, or at least he's working on it. The girl is the product of a one-night affair. He was very close-mouthed about it." I smile, remembering Joe's reluctant confession.
"That's rather shocking." Duncan murmurs mildly, pouring the steaming water into his mug. I watch him calmly lifting and lowering his teabag in the hot water, my emotions a jumble of frustration and aggravation, defensiveness and longing. Shocking? No, Mac, shocking would be if I turned you over that counter you're leaning against and humped your tight little ass till I came.
"I'm not going to go into a rabid frenzy and try to take your head, MacLeod, you can abandon the calm and reasonable role." I don't know if I mean to snap at him or not, all I know is how badly I need something I'm not going to get, can't even name, and how crazy it's making me.
"Methos, relax. It's okay. I'm glad you're here, is that a crime? Can't I be glad to see you?"
"Yeah, okay." I get up, pacing to the door and back again as if I had a purpose, crossing the length of the barge. Duncan leans against the kitchen counter, watching me.
"How long ago?" He asks quietly, and I know what he means.
"Almost an hour." I answer him shortly, drinking quickly from my glass.
"I see. Do you want to be alone? I'll go out for a while if you want." His voice is low and concilliatory, his hand catching my arm as I pace by him, stopping me. "It's okay, I understand. If you need to be alone..."
"No! No, I don't need to be alone. I need to be underneath you, getting my brains fucked to kingdom come, until this damn thing makes it's peace inside me. That's what I need, Mac! But I'm not going to get it now, am I?" I rip my arm from his light grip, so shocked that I stagger back as the words fly out of my mouth, borne on anger that's not mine, that I can't control.
"I think I'd better go now." I tell him, horror slowly sinking in through the haze of lust and denial and rage.
"No! Wait! Please, don't leave. Just wait a minute..." He meets me halfway to the door, cutting off my path. His hands reach out to grasp my forearms, I feel his fingers wrap around my bones, holding me still, but not forcefully. "I know what it's like, the lust that comes over you afterwards, but you don't really want that... Methos!" I'm pushing back against his arms, turning my arms up underneath his to grasp him just above the elbows, pushing him straight back across the room. We get about four steps before his back hits the wall, and I'm pressing myself up against him as hard as I can.
"Don't tell me what I want, Duncan." My voice is harsh in my own ears, and then my hands come down on the wall on either side of his head, and my rock hard cock is grinding into him and I've got him good and trapped. "That could be dangerous."
"Oh yeah?" He asks, his voice loud in my ear. He sounds as if he's not sure whether or not he wants to be angry about being backed up into the wall. He's not angry about my thrust and grind, I can feel him responding through two thick layers of denim.
"I'm so bloody sick of this..." I tell him, grinding against the swelling groin underneath me, pressing him hard against the wall of the barge.
"Of wanting it. Of ignoring it! Of you being so damn stable and calm and remote and feeling so fucking powerless. I did everything I could to help you fight your demon, Mac, and when I couldn't do anything else I went away, because I couldn't stand to be around you anymore."
"Why?" His arms tighten around me, his body pushing back against me to gain his balance, shifting his feet. "What's wrong? Why did you have to leave?"
"Because wanting you and watching you and waiting for you is making insane!" I spit the words out, moving forward until my lips are snarling against his mouth, a perfect O of surprise. I kiss him, hard; pressing his head back against the wall. His hands come up quickly to my shoulders, squeezing my muscles. I expect him to push me off him, but he doesn't. He's shocked, I guess. I press the advantage, I can't help it. My tongue is in his mouth now, devouring, eating him up as fast as I can, wanting to get as much of him inside me as I can before he shoves me away.
"Wait..." He cries, finally, holding me away from him. I try to pull away, but he stops me, turning my shoulders back to face him. "You're saying it's not the quickening? That you want this?" The last is said softly, his hands moving around my shoulders, drawing me back to lean against him.
I don't know what to say, all the fight is draining out of me, leaving a need that burns so strong I can't find my way back to the surface to answer him. I can barely stand up.
"If that's what you want..." He murmurs, his words drift off as he leans forward, pressing his lips to mine.
"Yes!" It comes out of me a whispered shout, admission of five years of unrequited lust and hunger and fascination. I want him so badly my skin is burning, and I want to tear our clothes off and do it right here up against the wall.
"Should I take you to bed?" It's a seductive whisper in my ear, as his tongue caresses me, teeth tasting my earlobe gently.
"Anywhere." I tell him, because I don't care. He could nail me right here up against the wall, that would be fine, or he can drag me back to his bed. I don't care, as long as he does it now.
He must be able to see it in my eyes, because he makes the decision quickly, taking both my hands to lead me across the room. Each step feels like it takes forever, he won't look away from me. I feel his eyes boring into me, hot with sudden passion, looking at me in a way I never imagined I would see.
"Mac..." I choke out, not even sure what I want to say, only that I have to try to explain.
"Shh, it's okay. What do you want?" He asks, stopping us next to the bed, his hands going to the buttons on my shirt.
"Everything, anything, just now." I hear myself wail, tearing at his button and zipper until I can drag his jeans off his hips, shoving them down as far as I can reach, until they're bunched up around his knees.
"You're not going to regret this, are you?" He's taken my face in his hands, holding me still.
For a second, everything stops, the reckless burn of desire over my nerves and the urgent ache of my cock, the compulsion to pull him down on top of me. Everything stops, and I stare into his eyes. "Not unless you make me regret it." I answer, smiling at him weakly when he takes hold of my shirt tails to pull the cloth over my head.
"I'll try not to." Duncan murmurs, and now his eyes are moving slowly over my bare skin, so sensitive to the air and the anticipation of his touch that my nipples are hard and muscles flutter under the surface. I feel as though my whole body is one constant tremor. He's worked me up to such a fevor pitch that for a moment I'm afraid that I won't be able to come down from this, that I won't be able to come.
"I don't care." I tell him again, trying to communicate just how badly I need him, that I right now I will take any risk and pay any price, to have him closer to me than I ever have, to have him inside me.
"Let me get you out of those clothes." It's a quiet order, as he sits me down on the edge of the bed, unlacing my shoes and pulling them off. "Methos... I've thought about this so many times... What it would be like to have you here." He's got both my socks off now, and when he tells me to lie down I follow his direction without question, lifting my hips up off the bed when he unbuttons my jeans.
"You could have done this a long time ago." Duncan tells me seriously, pulling my pants off my hips and down my legs in one smooth motion.
The sudden freedom sends blood rushing to my cock and I can't answer him, I'm shaking, trying to wait for him to touch me, and not beg him for it. What he's saying is too much for me to comprehend, now. It surprizes me, and I don't know how to react. I'll think about it later, right now all I can think of is his hands on my body.
His hands slide under the elastic waistband of my underwear at my sides, succeeding in pulling them off my legs without touching me. I feel unnaturally exposed, naked on my back on his bed.
"You're going to come very quickly, and then we'll do it again." He leans down to stretch over me, his voice rough and low in my ear. My body responds to his voice, all the energy coiling in my belly, all my muscles tightening in expectation. I think it's very likely he'll talk me into orgasm, and that would just be too embarrassing. Relief floods through me when he touches me, a warm, firm hand closing around the head of my cock.
Bliss. I feel everything inside me melting under his touch. It feels like he's holding my whole body in his fist. His touch is commanding, but gentle. I roll my head back and forth on the sheets, grinding into the mattress as he covers me with his body. He's big and warm and when his cock touches me I hear myself let out a gurgled moan, clutching at his shoulders.
"Just let it out." He growls softly in my ear, dragging his cock slowly up and down my length, trapping me with his hips. He's not even inside me and I feel impaled, captured. Pleasure curls all my muscles until I'm wrapped around him, hanging on with my calves wrapped around his knees.
His hand is between us, guiding himself back and forth hard across me, using his weight to press me into the bed. I feel pressure build to intolerable levels inside me, and then I'm gushing, flying and falling and coming in a great release, my teeth sunk into his neck.
"That was very satisfying."
Mac's voice is a soft rumble against my temple, and I open my eyes, surprised to see the room unchanged, reality apparently unaffected by my volcanic explosion.
"Ahh, yes, it was." I'm dumb, I can't make my brain put a sentence together. I'm busy feeling all the warm flesh pressed against me, the shape and feel of his muscles, the weight of his thigh over mine.
"Again?" He rests his forehead on the sheets, turning to press his skull against mine.
"Mmm." I roll a little underneath him, getting myself turned half on my side to press my body full length against him.
"What do you want?" He asks me tenderly, one hand coming up to hold the side of my face, pressing my head against his skull.
I don't answer him, it's an overwhelming question. I shake my head once against his, reaching with my mouth for the curve of his shoulder, feasting on the closest available flesh.
"You said 'underneath you, getting fucked to kingdom come'. Is that right? Is that what you want, Methos? Do you know, the night we took Silas and Kronos together, when you were there on your knees... I almost did. I thought it, and felt almost as if I could hear you thinking it too." Duncan is whispering in my ear, settling us more comfortably, both arms wrapped around me and holding me against his stiff cock. I'm stunned that he will reveal this to me now, after so long. I thought that he had pushed that quickening far enough back in his memory to forget it forever. I know I've tried.
"Yes..." I manage to force the word out, rolling onto my back again, pulling him on top of me. Yes, Duncan, I will admit the truth to you now, it doesn't matter, but I'm shocked that you already knew, and took this long to say it.
"Why didn't you?" I hear myself asking, wondering if I'm ever going to get the power to control the things that come out of my mouth back. It's really unsettling.
Duncan frowns, and I think I see fear and shame in his eyes. "I... I don't know. It wouldn't have been... like this." He finishes softly, his mouth coming closer to press lingeringly over mine.
Ah, Duncan MacLeod the romantic. Of course he wouldn't take me like that. That's not who he is. He's moral and honnorable to a fault, he's chivalrous and romantic and unselfish. He doesn't have an ounce of real cruelty in him, and God help me, I love him for it.
"Will you take me now, Highlander?" I look up at him through my lashes, and I am satisfied to see that he is just as devastated by my request as I am making it.
"Aye, I believe I will," he purrs, resettling his weight on top of me. His elbows are braced on the bed, his hands holding my head still while he kisses me. Long, drugged, lazy Duncan kisses. I've imagined him doing this to me a thousand times, and it is a thousand times better than my fantasies. Unimaginably better, because he is groaning quietly over my mouth, talking to me in broken phrases, telling me that this should have happened years ago, and that he can walk away from anything but me, that I am always inside him. His hands move slowly over my skull, moving through my hair in a way that is possessive and tender all at once, so essentially Duncan. I have to pull my mouth away, pushing my face into the side of his neck, he is overwhelming.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay." He tell me, as his legs move between mine, spreading my thighs. Caught in the whirlwind of quickening energy and the torrent of unexpected emotion, I believe him. His cock nudges gently between the cheeks of my ass, and I roll back, pressing my shoulders into the bed and pulling my knees up to give him an easier angle for entry. I don't care what I look like, I don't care if it hurts. It doesn't matter, because I need this more than I need pride or comfort or niceties. I need his cock inside me, driving out the foreign memories and the anger I can't let go of.
"I don't think I have anything here to make this easier..." He's whispering in my ear, his mouth closing over my earlobe, teeth biting down hard enough to make my breath catch in my throat.
"I don't care. Please, Mac... I really don't. Just take me."
Two fingers come up to trace my mouth, brushing lightly back and forth over my upper lip. I turn my head, taking them into my mouth and sucking slowly. Duncan smiles at me, a wicked, sexy, decadent smile, and pulls his fingers back leisurely, slipping his hand between us.
"It's been a very long time, but I think I remember how to do this..." Duncan murmurs, his voice a little rough in my ear as he leans over me, holding me down with his weight as two wet fingers press into my body. Oh, yes, heaven...
He's being very gentle, but he's taking too long. His cock is too far away from me, and I can't concentrate on his fingers. When he leans down to kiss me I suck his tongue into my mouth, demanding more. He understands, his tongue becomes more aggressive, invading me, letting the kiss get sloppy in his hurry to explore the full interior of my mouth. When there's no more air left to share, he pulls away, his eyes locked on mine as he spits into his palm, and then again. I watch his hand go to his cock, mesmerized by the quick thrusts of his cock into his fist.
"Try to relax..." He mutters in my ear, no gentleness left in the way his cock pushes up sharply between my cheeks, looking for entry. "Breathe," he tells me, taking a long, slow breath himself as his cockhead finds what it was looking for. I exhale with him, closing my eyes tightly as he pushes hard, forcing his way inside me. Even with our spit it's a painful first few seconds, but then he's buried all the way inside, and I can feel his cock deep, deep inside me. Duncan. I shudder uncontrollably beneath him, but he stays perfectly still, watching me through smoldering, slitted eyes.
"Relax. Wait." He tells me, his hands stroking down my body as he shifts his weight back onto his knees, pulling me up on his thighs. It should be an awkward shift, but he makes it easy, strong hands cupping my ass and lifting me with him when he moves.
I'm arched backwards over his thighs, my shoulders pushing into the mattress, staring up at him. He's incredible. Long hair in tangles, dark eyes hot and so very expressive, able to tell me exactly what he wants, what he feels. I groan low and long when his hands move to my hips, pulling me up off his cock and then back down again, sinking into me in a hot, devastating rush of pleasure.
"This is what you wanted." He tells me, shifting forward a little, pushing me harder into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his waist, arching my back high to offer him a more successful angle. Oh, God, that's perfect. Duncan's thick cock is thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm, the movement of his hips rocking me back and forth. I'm drowning in it, feeling the quickening energy that refused to settle dispelling, evaporating into the thick, hot sea of pleasure. Duncan's eyes are closed now, frowning in concentration, beads of sweat on his brow. He looks incredible. It tears at my heart, the sight of him totally succombed to passion. So beautiful, so incredibly hard not to love.
It seems to go on forever, for eternity, Duncan's cock invading and retreating, shooting spasms of pleasure through my whole body. When he takes my cock in his hand, I know can't withstand another second, I'm going to come.
"Now, Duncan. Come with me," I groan, curling my legs tightly around his body and bucking up against his hard thrust. His pants turn to growled groans, and then he thrusts very hard, slamming into me, once, twice, and we are both shouting, hanging onto each other and straining and coming in hot bursts of pleasure that overload my senses until I'm floating away on the endorphins rushing through my brain.
"Methos... Methos... come back to me." He's growling softly near my ear, one hand under my back, supporting me.
"No..." I tell him, unwilling to leave the place of ecstatic animal pleasure he sent me to, but I open my eyes.
He lays me down on the bed, hands closing around each of my ankles to lower my legs slowly to the bed, doing the work for my cramped muscles. "Thank you," I whisper, trying to focus on his eyes. He pulls out of my body gently, but it's still a little painful. Next time maybe I'll let him go searching for lubricant. Cooking oil works...
"Are you going to pass out on me?" Duncan smiles, warm hands running over my chest and abdomen.
"No, I don't think so..." I still don't have a firm connection with my body, I'm floating about three inches above the bed.
"Good," Duncan tells me decisively, leaning down to plant a kiss on my nose. He's settled on his side, pressed against me, one leg thrown out over mine.
"Thank you, Duncan. I think I needed that very badly." I'm not looking at him, my eyes are still closed, but I can feel how pleased he is in the arms that gather me close to his body.
"You are most welcome. You should think about letting yourself get away with something like that more than once a millenium, it's good for you."
"Physician, heal thyself," I mumble, and Duncan laughs, leaning down to kiss me.
"I wish I could stay..."
"Stay?" I'm not really thinking yet, but apparently he recovers quickly, so I try to catch up. "Where do you want to stay?"
Duncan smiles. "Here, with you."
"Oh." Oh. I see. Well, that's the way it always is, isn't it?
"I'm sorry, Methos. I wish I could stay. I really only came home to change and shower and pack another bag, I have to be..."
"Hush." I silence him with a hand over his lips. I don't want to know. I don't want to know where he's going or which of his clan needs his presence or why. I want to keep this, and believe in the possibility that I will have him again someday. "Some other time." I whisper the words against his hair, releasing him reluctantly. I don't want him to go, but I guess I'd rather he leave me like this than leave angry, or hurt.
"Very soon." Duncan agrees, rolling me underneath him for another long, melting kiss.
"You know where to find me." I tell him quietly. This time, I'm not going to run, I'll be right here waiting for him when he comes back from wherever he has to go.
"I'll come back soon." Duncan promises softly, and I have the urge to cover his mouth with my hand again. I've never been overly superstitious, but I don't want him making me any promises. I'm almost afraid to talk about it at all.
"We have time." I tell him, reaching out to touch his face. He is so dear to me, I don't think I could bear to lose him. It's been such a terribly long time since I've found something I couldn't live without.
Drinking with Joe the next afternoon, I feel mellow and only a little melancholy. Walker is gone, his quickening dissolved into the hundreds of other inside me. Duncan is gone, as well, but he will return to me. Joe and I drink, to Someday.