"He will not always say
What you would have him say
But now and then he'll say
The thoughtless things he'll do
Will hurt and worry you
Then all at once, he'll do
He has a thousand dreams
That won't come true
You know that he believes in them
And that enough for you.
You'll always go along
Defend him when he's wrong
And tell him when he's strong
He is wonderful.
He'll always need your love
And so he'll get your love
A man who needs your love
Can be wonderful."
The smoky words hung in the silent bar like a benediction before the wild applause started. Methos gripped his lover's hand tightly and swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat. Damn, she's good. It's the Highlander from beginning to end. Risking a sideways look at Duncan, he surprised a tremulous smile that wobbled a little around the edges.
MacLeod returned the grip and tried to clear his head. Gods. It's as if she knew Methos in all his many guises. Suddenly, all he wanted was to get the eldest into his arms, preferably in a horizontal position, sans clothes. The only sounds he wanted to hear were the moans and whispers of love.
More. Methos decided that he'd had enough of crowds and mass emotion. It was time for a little one on one. The touch of hot silken skin on skin. The taste of sweat beading in the hollow of Duncan's throat. The sound of breathy groans echoing above their comfortable bed. The heady smell of his lover's musk rising from his groin. The sight of those long silken strands spread over the damask pillowcase.
"Home. Now." Duncan rose and pulled Methos from their seats. His eyes were locked on the golden gaze that mesmerized him with a thousand promises. His hands were sure as he guided his lover to the back exit and on out the door. Then a pair of five thousand old lips took his mouth and he held his breath in wonder at how well they knew his every erogenous zone.
Gods, he tastes like the ambrosia of Olympus. Methos dipped in for another taste of scotch flavored MacLeod. He pushed the solid body against the brick wall by the door and plastered himself against every inch of warmth before proceeding to try and mate with the agile tongue against his.
He feels like life and every dream I ever had come true. Duncan breathed in the wonderful scent of aroused Immortal. Running both hands up underneath the leather jacket, he traced the long muscles of Methos' lean back down to the narrow hips that strained against his own. The pulsing hardness that throbbed in time to his own responded to the gentle thrusting of their combined movements.
Methos pulled his mouth away with a regretful sigh. "I am not making love to you in an alley outside a bar. Not even a wonderful bar like Joe's. How fast can we get home?"
"I'm willing to try and set a new land record." Duncan grinned and pulled him down the alley to where the Land Rover was waiting. Already plotting the most direct route to the barge, he started off before Methos even had his seatbelt on. He concentrated on the traffic so completely; it was a moment before he felt the sure hand that fondled him with such dexterity.
"Drive, MacLeod." Methos smiled knowingly when he heard his lover moan. "I have three days of deprivation to make up. I plan to leave us both dried up husks before we're through."
Duncan drove faster. His concentration divided between the tormenting fingers and the thankfully light traffic. Who says I can't do two things at once? But it was getting harder and harder to keep his mind on peripheral things, like stop signs and street names. His vision blurred for a moment when he realized that Methos' hand was inside his jeans, encircling his manhood with those long, teasing fingers that knew just where to press and stroke.
Methos kept one eye on the road, ready to take the wheel if Duncan lost it completely. The young one has great powers of concentration. But someday I'll make him lose complete and utter control. Just as he has done with me.
Duncan pulled the car to a complete stop and turned to his tormentor in time to watch Methos disappear up the ramp. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath then another before tucking himself back into the too tight jeans and making sure the doors were locked before he followed his errant lover. I'm going to wring his neck. Then I'm going to do a little tormenting of my own.
Methos poured in the bath salts he'd been dreaming of for three nights. The billowing steam curled up from the deep tub. Removing his clothes was the work of a moment, then he was sliding into slippery bliss. The green tinged water crept up the sides of the white porcelain tub and the smell of spruce wafted upwards every time he moved.
Duncan shoved open the bathroom door prepared to blast the oldest immortal with a blistering comment about teases but the sight before him sent his mind into overload. The green-gold eyes captured his with the light of a thousand ancient secrets. The slender hand beckoned him into paradise, drawing him closer with a single crooked finger.
"Take off your clothes, Duncan and join me. I promise you won't regret it." Methos purred quietly while sitting up to turn off the water before it over flowed. Watching the strip tease, tested his own control. The man is impossibly beautiful. Drawing up his legs, he steadied Duncan's entrance into their bath. Oh, yes.
Duncan suppressed a hiss at the heat of the water. Sliding his legs under Methos', he leaned forward to capture that sinfully artful mouth that quirked up at him. This kiss was sweeter than all the preceding ones because this time there would be no interruptions or distractions. Just the loving.
Methos' thoughts grew hazy and he slid his hands up the strong arms of his lover. Tonight would be slow and gentle. They had all the time in the world and he was going to show this man exactly how much he was cherished and loved. Even if it took the rest of his life.
"He'll always need your love
And so he'll get your love.
A man who needs your love
Can be wonderful."
The end for now