Story title borrowed without permission from Kate Bush.
Rated NC-17 for homoerotic content
Thanks to Maygra for all her inspiration and encouragement.
I wake up smiling. It takes me a moment to realize that Duncan's not here, in bed with me. He made coffee, that's nice. Stretching, I listen carefully and pick out the sounds of him moving through a kata above me on deck. I guess he decided not to risk another of our infamous mornings. I think he may be getting smarter, or at least getting used to me.
I definitely need a shower. Rolling out of bed, I look around, trying to decide if this place is really home. It feels so strange, I guess it'll grow on me. Who knows, maybe I could talk him into to moving this thing someplace else. I think I'd like it far better if we were docked someplace warm. Boro Boro sounds good.
He's back from his morning work out when I get out of shower. He's in the kitchen making himself toast.
"Good morning, Duncan," I go to him, slipping between the counter and his body for a kiss.
"Mmm, now that's nice. Good morning."
He smiles, his eyes twinkling at me mischievously, "How did you sleep?"
I wrap my arms around his bare waist, pulling him against me, "Very well."
He kisses me, smiling against my mouth. Ah, Duncan, if anyone can teach me to appreciate morning, it's you.
"What do you have to do today?" I ask him, releasing him reluctantly.
"Absolutely nothing, and yourself?"
"Oh I don't know, work on my journal. I should make some calls, get some of my things out of storage. I could have them shipped over here," watching the joy spread across his face gives me a deep sense of satisfaction. It's wonderful to be able to give him this, it makes him so happy. I imagine I can see the fears I've dispelled fading in his eyes.
"That sounds good. There's a few things I should do around here, but nothing urgent. Do you want me to make more coffee?"
"No, I'm fine. I am, however, running out of clothes. Unless you want me to walk around in a towel all day you're going to have to let me borrow something to wear."
His bright smile turns devilish, one finger reaches out to threaten the tucked corner of the towel around my waist.
"Oh, I don't know, should I?"
"Only if you want to get anything accomplished today," I tell him, grinning back.
"Not really," he drawls, leaning in for another kiss. "But you're welcome to raid my wardrobe."
"I'll do that," I smile, pulling him close for another moment. He's wearing only the light cotton pants he does his kata's in, and his muscles are still pumped from the exercise. He looks devastatingly good to me this morning, I need to feel him against me again before I put clothes on.
Sighing, I step away from him, going to his dresser to explore my options. I choose a black turtleneck sweater that looks like it will fit and his most ragged pair of blue jeans. The sweater is perfect, it must be tight on him, but the jeans hang off my hips, and I have to roll the cuffs up a bit. They're extremely comfortable though, well past broken in, faded to a very light blue, with a hole in the knee. I'm amused that I have chosen what to wear with the intention of making him look at me. I think it's funny, but I can't help it. I want to draw his attention. I love the way he looks at me.
He's sitting on the couch with his toast and the paper, one ankle crossed over his knee. He looks up when I come back down the stairs, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes rake down my body.
"Thank you. I'm sure Morgan would approve as well."
He shakes his head at me, still smiling, "You make the oddest friends. What in the world did you two find to talk about?"
"Oh, the basics. Hunger, need, fatal desire, self destruction..."
"Real upbeat kind of girl, isn't she?"
"Oh yes, I think she is. It's all relative, MacLeod. Do you mind if I call Rome?"
Duncan rolls his eyes, but I can tell he's going to think about what I said.
"No, go right ahead, Methos. It's your phone too, okay?"
Take a deep breath, look him in the eye. You can do this, this is what you want.
Duncan reads the paper while Adam makes phone calls. I get bored sitting on hold and start puttering around the kitchen. Maybe I'll make him lunch.
The Italian woman at the hotel I left in such a hurry doesn't remember me at all. It takes a long time to convince her to look up the number for the storage place where I left everything, I can't remember the name of it and she isn't in the least bit helpful. The lax work ethic of southern europeans works against you when you're not there.
Forty five minutes later I've finally gotten a hold of the people who have my things, and in between being told to 'wait, please', manage to get them to agree to ship my stuff. As soon as they receive payment, and funds to cover the mailing costs, of course.
Duncan comes over to stand behind me when I let out a sigh of exasperation, his hands knead my shoulders. I hang up the phone, leaning back against him.
"That was fun. Can I have a drink?"
"Absolutely. You can have anything you want."
What's gotten in to you, Duncan? "Scotch?"
"Alright. Is that lunch?" He looks at the items I randomly pulled out of the cupboards, wandering around on the phone.
"It could be."
I make us a pasta salad, sipping the drink he brings me. This really is good, to just be with him. It's what I wanted in the first place. I wonder why it was so hard to get here? I guess we only get more complicated as we get older.
Duncan gets us bowls, pulling a large spoon out of the drawer for me. I hope he'll eat this, it's rather plain, but it's what I'm in the mood for. I hand him his bowl, and he follows me to the couch.
"This is really good, Methos."
"Is it? Good, I wasn't sure you'd like it."
"I like it whenever I don't have to cook, but this is delicious. It's so good to have you here with me."
I get lost in his eyes for a moment, just floating in his happiness. "I'm happy too," I tell him quietly, picking up my bowl.
"That's good, I want you to be. This is how it should be."
He's right. I want this day to last forever. Nothing is better than being with him, having his physical presence and his voice and his touch. I think I would give up anything for this, even immortality. He is life for me now, he's love and fulfillment and hope for the future.
"You're a romantic, MacLeod, and I love you."
"I am, heart and soul. But you bring it out in me. I think you do it on purpose, just so that you can smile at me like that."
"As if you are amused with me and pleased in spite of yourself," he smiles, setting his empty bowl on the coffee table and moving closer.
"I didn't realize I gave that much away."
It's true, sometimes I think he knows too much of me already.
"I think I must be getting better at it."
"Oh really? You think so? Well, I'll have to work on being more inscrutable."
He laughs, stretching out on the couch with his head in my lap. "You're more than complicated enough, Old Man. Besides, if you changed at all you wouldn't be you. Don't ever change for me, Methos. I love you exactly as you are."
Warm brown eyes smile up at me. He really believes that, I can see the truth of it in his eyes. What am I going to do with him? The things he tells me are liberating, redeeming. He frees me with his love, and all I can do is pray that nothing will happen to change the way he sees me. I love him with all that is good left inside me. I wish I knew how to show him, exactly, how good he is for me, and how happy I am to have him. Mine. I know I'm possessive, sometimes violently so. I can't help it, it sends such a rush of joy through me, to think it, that he's really mine, that his love belongs to me and no other.
"You're the one who never changes, Mac. I've reinvented myself so many times I don't even know what I started with anymore."
"I do. Strength. Courage. Passion. All the things I'm drawn to, those are the things you've always been."
"You see me as no one ever has, do you know that Duncan?" I ask him quietly, threading my fingers through his long hair.
"Good, I don't want to you to love me the way you've loved anyone else. I want all of you."
His words ring in the quiet, like an oath. He has nothing to worry about, no one has ever given me what he does, no one will ever make me feel this but him.
The way he's looking at me is making me hard. He smiles, reaching up to meet my lips halfway. His lips are soft under mine, relaxing to let me in. I hold the back of his head, seeking the hidden parts of his mouth with my tongue. Burrowing into him, I taste him, relishing the way he melts against my hand, letting me hold him up for my kiss. Ah, Duncan, you are so shamelessly erotic, the little sounds you make drive me wild. I'm only kissing you, and I want to rip your clothes off already.
"Kissing you is like touching a live wire," I growl, pulling him against my chest roughly. I can't help it, he does this to me. I have this need to possess him totally, to cover him with my touch and my mark. I think he brings out the oldest needs in me, to have something that is only and totally mine, to feel something completely.
He twists in my arms, turning backwards on the couch to get closer to me. His eyes are half closed, sleepy with desire. He's reaching for me, panting slightly, his arms coming up to wrap around my neck. His lower lip is a little swollen, reddened from my kiss. So beautiful. My hand closes over his jaw as my mouth covers his, already open and hungry. His tongue touches the inside of my cheek, stroking me as my hand spans his throat.
I can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath my fingertips. I tilt his head back, exposing more of his throat for my touch. His fingers are splayed though my hair, raking restlessly through my short spikes over and over again. I may just devour him.
"I want to make you mine, completely," I don't recognize my voice, it sounds harsh, almost savage.
"Please," he groans against my mouth, trying to hold me closer.
Duncan, I want to make you feel the hunger I feel. I want you to come apart for me. It's almost overwhelming, that he trusts me this much, to show me his nakedness, his need.
"Stand up. Take those off."
He obeys me silently, rising off the couch and pulling the cord of the drawstring at his waist. He stands in front of me, his arms at his sides. The look in his eyes is pure anticipation.
"You are so magnificent, Duncan, and you're mine."
Standing up, I walk behind him, moving him a little to the right, so that we're standing in the open space between his desk and the wall of barge. He flinches a little when I touch him, although it's only to run my palm down his muscled back. Good, he knows what I want. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I pull him back, hard against me, my palms flat on his chest, holding him to me.
I whisper in his ear, "You're daring, giving yourself to me carte blanche like this, Highlander. You may regret it," I feel like I have to give him a chance to refuse.
"Never," he groans, holding still for me while I run my hands over his body, touching him briefly everywhere, reminding myself of the strength and the power here, under his skin. Muscles tense and relax again as my hands move over him, until there is a slight but constant tremor running through his entire body. So incredible, so strong.
Wide, soft brown eyes regard me evenly, wondering what I want from him, and so eager to please me. Ah, Duncan, I want everything you have to give, I want all of you, and I think I have to take it. You are simply too incredible to resist.
My hands come down on his shoulders as I close the space between us. His mouth is so eager, kissing me back so passionately, he makes me dizzy with the desire to bend him to my will. My hands slide from his shoulders down his arms to his wrists, spanning them with my thumb and forefinger.
He moans softly against my mouth when my hands close over his wrists, leaning towards me.
"Hold still for me, Duncan,"
"Mmm?" a little sound of anxiety and need comes out of him when I release one wrist to take his stiff cock in my hand.
"Hush. I don't want you to say anything, nothing at all, unless you are absolutely sure that you want me to stop. Then say my name, and it will stop, instantly. Do you understand, Duncan?"
I squeeze him, not quite hard enough to really hurt, just a little discomfort to prompt him.
He won't talk though, he only nods, holding my gaze. He doesn't need words, he can communicate everything he's feeling to me with those eyes. My hand releases him slowly, the pressure of my fist easing as my hand slides down to cup his balls. I watch him carefully, catching the flash of fear as my palm covers the satiny, vulnerable skin.
Now that I have his attention I want to bring him down just a little, soothe him and gain a little more of his body's trust. I know he is terribly excited by this, there is a light sheen of perspiration covering his chest and abdomen and his face in flushed, his breath coming in soft pants.
I move behind him again, lifting the heavy mass of his hair to expose the back of his neck. Kissing, and then biting down hard, the need to mark him already burning out of control inside me.
I speak softly, my lips very close to his ear, "I want you to close your eyes, and breath slowly, concentrate on my touch, feel my hands on your body." My hands roam quickly from his collar bone to his cock and back up again. "You're mine, Duncan, you're going to give yourself to me, you're going to let me do whatever I want with you, and you are going to like it."
I can feel his whole body relaxing under my hands, a little shudder goes through him as he takes the first deep breath, his chest expanding slowly as he inhales.
"That's good, just like that," I encourage him, whispering into his ear. My hands roam over him possessively, with a will of their own, testing muscle and resistance, teaching him to respond with submission to my touch. I tease his nipples, rolling them in my fingers until his breathing quickens again, and then pinching hard, twisting the sensitive flesh. He responds powerfully to the stimulation, his hips jerking forward.
"I know you can hold still for me," I taunt him softly, my teeth closing over the skin behind his earlobe.
He trembles, lifting one foot and them the other briefly, finding his balance. He tastes so good, salty from sweat and then the sweet, metallic taste of his blood on my tongue when my teeth break skin, at the curve of his throat. I suck the place I've bitten, my tongue moving slowly over the marked flesh. The healing burns me and I pull back, moving to stand in front of him again. His eyes are still closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, but he's bitten his lower lip, a drop of blood where each tooth has broken the skin. It's so hard for him to stay quiet, much harder than holding still for me. I want to reward him, and teach his body the next lesson of this game.
Leaning in I lift my hands from his body, kissing him very gently. He sighs, his soft lips begging me to stay and kiss him deeper. His cock is totally rigid, standing at attention, the head rosy and seeping. I touch him very lightly, petting him with the tips of my fingers, and watch the muscle in his jaw clench and flutter.
I can feel the blood rushing in my veins. I can feel every deep breath he exhales on my skin, and every sound he swallows, his shoulders shaking a little as I continue to stroke and tease him. It's a raw, hungry feeling, this desire I have to see him sweating and straining for my touch. He is so beautiful, so totally attuned to me and my hands on his body. I want to test him, to see how badly I can make him need me.
Raising my fingers to his lips, I command him softly, "Suck."
My fingers slide into the wet heat of his mouth, watching his cheeks hollow as he sucks, running his tongue up and down. Very enticing, but that's not what I want, Duncan, I want inside you, now. I give him no warning, my two fingers pull out of his mouth and are thrusting between the cheeks of his ass before he can tense up, thrusting deeply into his body.
He groans as I enter him, my fingers twisting, stroking the delicate walls, reaching for his prostate. "Oh god..."
"No," I bite his lower lip, hard, my teeth sinking into his tender flesh as he pants softly around my mouth. "No talking."
His adam's apple bobs in his throat. He shudders, his hips rocking forward as I force my way into his body, pushing up steadily. He whimpers softly in protest, his lips reaching for me blindly when I pull away from his mouth. It's making me so hungry, touching him this way, having the power to control him from the inside. My cock is painfully hard, straining against the prison of his jeans, but I don't want to stop long enough to take them off. He's getting much too close, though, I can tell. His cock is leaking continuously, his hips rocking back and forth on my hand. Oh no, not yet Duncan, not anytime soon. I have you now, love, and I don't want to let you come. I like you just like this, trying so hard to hold still for me and wanting me so badly it hurts more than anything I could do to you. Bending down I take a hard nipple between my teeth, threatening him, biting down only a little.
He grinds his teeth, drops of sweat standing out on his forehead, but his hips slow down, until he is standing perfectly still for me once more, the muscles of his abdomen fluttering as my fingers thrust inside him.
"You're getting a little too close, I think we have to do something to ensure your restraint," I tell him, my voice deeper than normal. "Don't move. I'm not going anywhere, keep your eyes closed," I murmur, pulling my fingers out of his body gently.
His cotton gi are next to us on the floor. Picking them up, I pull the drawstring out of the waistband. Drawing the soft cord slowly over his cock, he trembles, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. So intensely erotic, the knowledge that at this moment I control him completely. Wrapping the cord twice around the base of his cock, just tight enough to make him gasp, I cross it under his balls, wrapping it once around the sac, and then around the base of his cock again, tying a quick slip knot with the end. My makeshift truss holds his balls suspended by the weight of his cock, the pressure of the cord wrapped around him ensuring his erection and preventing orgasm simultaneously.
"Now you'll be quiet, won't you, my captive?" my fingertips touch the slick head lightly, fluttering over the swollen skin.
He nods slowly, his teeth tearing into his bruised lip. Beautiful, perfect. Oh yes, you'll let me do anything I want now, won't you Mac?
"Open your eyes, Duncan."
He blinks rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the light. His eyes plead with me, begging for more than just this light grazing of my fingertips over his head. His whole body is shaking now, a constant tremor that starts in his shoulders and goes to his knees.
"Please," his lips form the word, but no sound escapes.
"Do you have any idea how appealing you are like this?" I whisper in his ear, my tongue scraping delicately along the swirled cartilage. Pumping his cock a little, and then returning to the swelled head, flicking the sensitized skin lightly. His erection is painful now, I know, distended and enlarged by the cord that holds back his pleasure. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his hips jerking away from my hand reflexively.
"Do you know, Duncan? Do you know what it does to me to have you like this?" he is so beautiful, I wish I could find the words to tell him.
He pants back at me, his eyes wide open and expressive. Telling me how badly he wants to be able to do this for me, and how hard it is to stand still, to continue to obey me when all he wants is to throw me to the floor and fuck me senseless.
I step back, letting him watch me as I undress. His sweater comes off slowly. I touch myself, rubbing my palm across the aching hard-on in my jeans, making him watch me, knowing it's what he wants to do, and can't. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white, but his stays still, watching me with smoldering eyes.
Taking pity on us both, I push the button through the frayed hole, dragging the zipper down as I push them off my hips. He inhales sharply, a short, high pitched sound of anxiety and frustration escaping. He closes his eyes, and the noise stops.
Standing behind him, I press myself against his hot skin. Ah, Duncan, you feel so good, I don't know how much longer I can make either of us wait. But you're so good, so hot, I don't want this to end. I wrap my arms around him tightly, he's trembling, swaying on his feet. I nibble the back of his neck, letting him feel the edge of my teeth, but not biting yet. His breath comes in ragged gasps.
"Shh, I know, I know. You're so hard, it hurts so much, and you can't, you know you can't, I won't let you... I want to devour you, Duncan, I want to consume you. I want you to be nothing but what I give you, what I make you feel."
"Mmm," he moans piteously, my hand has strayed to his cock again, stroking the swollen testicles i've tied up so neatly.
"Do you remember the word that will set you free?" I whisper in his ear, grasping his sac firmly and tugging down.
"Ahhh! Yes..." he hisses, tossing his head from side to side. I wait patiently, but he's not going to say my name. He's far too gone to think about wanting to stop, he's flying ahead of me, rushing on the pain.
"Do you belong to me, Duncan?" I have to know.
"I belong to you," he gasps softly, pushing back against me urgently.
I grab his hips, holding him still, pressing the head of my cock into him slowly. He shudders, trying to twist away from me, but I hold him still, my fingers digging savagely into his hips. I leave bruises, on his hips and then his thighs, pinching and twisting the soft flesh. He bows his neck, bending his head down to his chest and grinding his teeth, but he doesn't move away from my hands.
The heat of his body is shocking, the intensity of the pleasure takes my breath away and I have to stop, squeezing his cock gently and panting. He's whimpering through clenched teeth, struggling in my arms. I listen carefully, but he doesn't make a sound that is anything like my name.
"Shh... Easy, breath. This is what you want," I'm stroking his back, arched away from my body, all his muscles tense. "Let it happen, let me in, that's it, just relax," I croon in his ear, pressing slowly into the tight heat.
Ah, god, he's going to kill me. I'm going to melt inside him. So tight, so exquisite, I'm not sure I can make this last much longer, he feels too good.My hands move up to his chest, pulling him back against me so that I can bite him, holding him still with my teeth closed carefully over the vein that pulses at the side of his throat.
He hums softly as I begin to pull him back and forth on my cock, one hand guiding his hip, the other arm wrapped tightly around him, my palm splayed out on his chest. Oh yes, nice and easy, just like that, heaven, to sink slowly into his center, feeling him pulse and throb around me.
Give me just a little more, Duncan, I need it. I need to know that you will give up on the thought of release, and still submit to me. I pull almost all the way out of his body, holding him open with the head of my cock. My right hand moves from his hip to his aching, trapped erection. He cries out when I close my fist around him, squeezing a little too hard, making him twist anxiously in my arms.
"This is mine, I'll do anything I like with it," I hiss in his ear, dragging my fingernails up the length of his cock, scraping the sensitive skin.
He sobs once, his upper body shaking violently in my arms, and then he relaxes against me, letting me take his weight against my chest, and my cock sinks deeply home in him body. He's panting, pressing back to meet me as I thrust deep inside him, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
He's arched back against me, his head thrown back over my shoulder, and I am whispering in his ear, telling him I know not what... That I love him, that he is good, very good, and beautiful and brave and strong, and that this will never stop, no matter how much he begs me to end it. My hand pumps his cock slowly, feeling him pulse and shudder against my palm. It's only the cotton cord, tied tightly in a figure eight around his cock and balls, that's preventing him from coming now.
He's going to collapse soon, I pitch him forward, letting him brace himself with his hands on the desk. I'm thrusting into him savagely, bracing his hips with my hands so that I can drive deeply into his body. He's gasping for air, his nails scratching on the edge on the desk.
"Please... Please, please, please," he sobs brokenly, fighting my grip on his hips, bucking back against me.
"I love you," I whisper in his ear, reaching down to pull the slip knot of the cord that binds him. The blood rushes to his groin as I unwind the wrap, and he cries out in pain and ecstasy, collapsing in my arms. His voice is all I need. I hold him up with one arm locked around his chest, moving faster and faster, pushing us both over the edge into oblivion.
He climaxes forever, spurting thick streams of come over my hand, shuddering and moaning in my arms as I pump the last of my orgasm into his body. He is so beautiful, I love him so much more than I ever dreamed I could love anyone. I hope he knows what a priceless gift he has given me.
I pull him back against me before he can fall, pulling out of him slowly and lowering us to the floor in utter exhaustion.
"Methos," he whispers my name, smiling.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him with his back pressed tightly to my chest, my body curling protectively around him.
"I love you, Duncan."
He rolls over in my arms to smile up at me. His eyes are still glazed, the pupils dilated to black pools.
I grin back at him, still a little out of breath, "Yes?"
He just whispers my name, "Methos."
Oh Duncan, you are so beautiful, so sweet. I adore you. I'd like to keep you like this for a dozen years, at least.
He kisses me ardently, pouring his happiness into my mouth. His lips are so soft, pliant, yielding at the first touch of my tongue. I pull him against me hungrily, and he melts into my arms. I should drag us both to bed.
"I love you."
"Shh, I know. Come curl up in bed with me, the floor is getting harder by the minute."
He smiles, looking somewhat disoriented. I think he just realized we're on the floor. I'll take that as a compliment. Getting up, I drag him to his feet, pushing him gently in the direction of the stairs and following him to bed.
He curls up against me, his cheek pressed to the center of my chest. The damage I did to his neck has healed, but I can still see the faint mark where my teeth broke the skin. It's already fading, in an hour it will be gone. I wish I could make it last a little longer. He's quiet, probably thinking about what we've done, and how he reacted to me. Don't be embarrassed, Duncan. You are so beautiful when you give yourself to me, I have never seen anything that excites me as much as you do.
"Did I please you?" he whispers, not raising his head from my chest to look at me.
"Oh yes," I hold him closer, feeling a fine tremor go through him.
"You devastate me."
"It's mutual, Highlander. I love you."
"What you do to me, Methos... I can't even explain, it's..."
"I know," I tell him softly, stroking his hair.
"You do, don't you?" he looks up at me, strong fingers tracing my jaw. His expressive eyes are a combination of awe and contentment.
"Oh yes. But you are exceptional. What you give me is like no other. It's intoxicating, life affirming, liberating, beautiful."
"Yes. Exactly," he smiles, kissing me softly.
I think a nap is in order, I've exhausted us both. I pull the covers up, gathering him in my arms.
"Sleep, Highlander," I lean down to press my lips to his cheek, and he smiles, settling against me.
This is home. Anywhere that I can be with him is home.
Moving stranger, does it really matter?
As long as you're not afraid to feel
Touch me, hold me, how my open arms ache
Try to fall for me
How I'm moved, how you move me
With your beauty's potency
You give me life, please don't let me go
You crush the lily in my soul
Moving liquid, yes, you are just as water
you flow around all that comes in your way
don't think it over, it always takes you over
and sets your spirit dancing.
Lyrics borrowed without permission from Kate Bush