*************************************************************************

By the time he arrived at the remote mountain retreat, he had already worked through most of his anger over the Jacob Galati affair. The icy stone floors, the drafts of cold air whistling through the corridors, and the spartan menu at the monastery had been even less appealing than he had remembered. You can't go home again he thought wryly.

Instead of renewed peace, his brief stay in the retreat brought him only more confusion. Methos had been, quite honestly, running away when he had left Paris. Running from the Watchers, from Adam Pierson, from the memory of Jacob Galati, and from Duncan MacLeod.

He had intended to use the time to review recent events and to decide whether or not it was time for *Adam Pierson* to disappear. Instead, he had found it impossible to stop thinking and worrying about Duncan.

Since the day of their first meeting, Methos knew that Duncan had become increasingly important to him. He remembered that first meeting clearly.

 ****

Leaning back against the edge of the bed, Methos regarded the pages he had written with satisfaction. Methos' Watcher, updating the Methos Chronicles. He chuckled to himself at the joke. The fact that this was a private journal and that his fellow Watchers would never see it only added to the fun.

The smile left his lips as the thought of the Watchers brought Joe Dawson's phone call to mind. Joe had been frantic to warm *Adam* that an immortal was hunting for the legendary Methos. And, that that Immortal was now aware of the Watchers and, perhaps, the existence of a researcher named Pierson.

Joe had also wanted a favor. His assignment, Duncan MacLeod, was in Paris and Joe had given him Adam's name. mistaking Adam's silence at the news for disapproval, or fear Joe had hastened to explain that MacLeod was "Adam's" best defense against Kalas and that MacLeod himself was no danger to a Watcher.

Agreeing to talk with the Highlander if he appeared, Methos ended the phone call abruptly. He needed time to think, even though he honestly looked forward to the opportunity to meet Duncan MacLeod. From all reports, the Highlander was a prime candidate to win The Game. Methos liked to keep tabs on the good ones.

In addition, he admitted to himself that MacLeod's dark good looks, amply chronicled in the Watcher's reports, had stirred some interest of a different kind. In any case, he had only a few minutes to decide who should meet the Highlander when he arrived -- the legendary Methos, or a young and frightened Immortal by the name of Adam Pierson. Bending over his journal he settled down to record these latest developments while part of his mind continued to wrestle with the question.

In the end, the decision was made for him. Feeling the Presence of another Immortal, Methos hastily finished up his final journal entry and looked up to see the Highlander staring at him from the bedroom door.  

"Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod," he said wonderingly, thinking that photos didn't do MacLeaod justice. To cover his thoughts, he threw the other man a cold beer. "Mi casa es su casa."

Duncan looked unbelievingly at the cold beer in his hand and Methos took advantage of his distraction to run his eyes over the firm, muscular body. He allowed himself a moment of speculation and gazed directly into MacLeod's eyes with a barely hidden invitation. Nothing in the photos he had seen had given him any sense of the sheer force of Duncan's personality.

Even at that moment, frozen in shock at his own discovery, MacLeod had an aura of strength and sex appeal that generated an answering warmth in Methos.

Before Methos recovered from his own shock, he found himself admitting his true identity to this dark stranger. For an instant, gazing into those warm, dark eyes, he thought he saw an answering response. To his disappointment, MacLeod was too consumed by the search for Kalas, and his shock at having stumbled upon a legend, for Methos to pursue the thought.

For the time being the opportunity was lost but Methos was good at waiting. As events turned out, Kalas did not die under his or Duncan's blade that time. Discretion advised Methos to disappear and he filed the thought of Duncan away under "unfinished business," promising himself another chance.

Disappearing into the darkness, he regretted the lost opportunity. Some day...

****

Between Amanda and Christine Salzer, "some day" arrived sooner than he had anticipated. Despite his very real sorrow over Don's death, Methos knew that he had jumped at the chance to contact Joe Dawson for help in handling the grieving widow. Getting Joe to Paris was easy. Arranging for the two of them to visit MacLeod was even easier. It was unthinkable to Joe to be that close to Duncan and not take advantage of the opportunity to visit his friend.

Methos remembered that night clearly. As the two men approached the barge, he held back, letting Joe approach alone at first, as they had agreed. No point in losing my head over this guy Anticipation tightened his stomach as Joe disappeared through the open door. He was, he realized, a little nervous.

In a few seconds, he followed Joe through the door. Allowing himself a quick glance around the barge, he memorized the layout for future reference. His eyes didn't miss the invitingly large bed against the far wall. Finally allowing himself to look directly at MacLeod, he felt the by-now familiar twinge of pleasure. Drinking in the alert stance, the sword in his hand, and the look of surprise on Duncan's face, Methos smiled in anticipation. MacLeod was everything he had remembered. This time he promised himself, he would find a way to stay and explore what Duncan had to offer.

Neither Methos nor Joe missed Duncan's unusually tense, almost unwelcoming behavior during the conversation that followed. Then Duncan dropped Kalas' name into the discussion and everyone's plans changed.

Methos didn't like to remember the days that had followed. It was true that he had taken pleasure in watching Duncan demonstrate that he was worthy of every glowing report his Watchers had filed on him over the years. All the same, knowing how close he had come to losing the other Immortal, Methos preferred not to dwell on those memories. It was enough that MacLeod defeated Kalas in the end. That lifted the cloud of impending exposure from both the atchers and the Immortals. Only Amanda's presence at that time prevented Methos from pursuing Duncan.

****

Stretching out comfortably on MacLeod's bed, Methos smiled at the memories now. His interest in Duncan had grown as the two men became better acquainted. Over the months, Methos casually took advantage of every opportunity to insinuate himself into MacLeod's life. The courtship had been slow and careful. After 5,000 years, he had learned to savor these initial stages of a relationship. With MacLeod, the process was proving more than usually protracted, and more than usually rewarding.  

Methos enjoyed pushing MacLeod's buttons, teasing and tormenting him, pushing him to the edge of distraction. Inch by inch he was winning him over, whether Duncan was aware of it or not. As MacLeod began to accept Methos' presence in his life, MacLeod grew to trust and respect him, offering him a depth of friendship Methos hadn't shared with anyone in a long time.

****

Having been unable to get Duncan out of his thoughts, Methos had finally given up the struggle and followed him to Seacouver.

Now, looking around the loft, he wondered where his quarry was. Probably out saving the world from evil he thought sarcastically. It was always *something* with MacLeod.

Stretching out on the firm bed, he noticed for the first time that the loft and the barge in Paris had the same floor plan. Through the door past the kitchen past the living roomto the bedroom. Idly he wondered what Sigmund Freud would have had to say about such an arrangement. If the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, Duncan's home indicated that, for him, the journey was a short, straight line. Pulling off his worn boots, Methos stretched comfortably and flipped on the stereo. It was something to consider.

Some time later he heard the noisy rumbling of the elevator and felt the buzz that signalled the approach of another Immortal. Methos was content to remain on the bed. Maybe MacLeod would be surprised enough by his unexpected appearance to give Methos a clue to his feelings.

As Duncan entered the room, his expression was an interesting mix of pleasure and something else. As he stalked across the floor toward the bed, Methos' stomach tightened in anticipation. Duncan's sarcastic attack took him completely by surprise.

Once he understood the source of MacLeod's anger, Methos knew that once again his private agenda would have to wait. If Richie had met the Other Methos and fallen for his line, Duncan wasn't going to be in the mood for seduction until the situation was resolved. Climbing off of the bed, he grabbed his boots and walked away from Duncan. The depth of his frustration surprised him.

Feeling Duncan follow him into the kitchen, Methos knew he regretted his outburst, but he wasn't ready to kiss and make up. Besides, his sensuous mood had been spoiled by MacLeod's news. He knew Duncan well enough to know that Duncan would expect Methos to resolve this new problem for him. He was also aware of how persuasive Duncan could be when he wanted something. This time Duncan was going to have to work for it. The last time he had talked Methos into getting involved in someone else's business had been the Galati disaster and Methos wasn't ready to jump back into a similar situation.

Stubbornly, he refused to cooperate with MacLeod, making it clear that he had no intention of interfering with the impostor.

"Even if it costs him his life?" Duncan asked in disbelief.

"Even then." Methos was definite.

Duncan's eyes narrowed and he started toward Methos who edged nervously around the back of the chair. In one of his boy scout moods, there was no telling how MacLeod would react to such blatant provocation.

Finally, reluctantly, Methos allowed himself to be convinced to approach Richie. All of his earlier pleasure in contemplating the leisurely progress of his relationship with MacLeod had disappeared. Whether or not Duncan was doing it consciously, he was succeeding in using Methos' emotions to manipulate his behavior. As of right now Methos decided, the next move is up to MacLeod. If Duncan didn't choose to pursue the attraction between them, so be it.

As always, Duncan's appearance in the loft a few minutes before had taken Methos' breath away. The challenge in Duncan's eyes had awakened a hopeful response in Methos and his subsequent discovery that MacLeod was *not* happy to see him had soured his mood and his day.

*****

A few days later, his mood hadn't improved. As he and Joe sat with MacLeod in his office, Methos watched MacLeod worrying over the fate of his student.

He wondered if, after all, it might not have been simpler to dispatch the impersonator during their meeting and take a chance on being able to convince Duncan that it had been a wise move. While this might have solve part of Richie's problem, Methos still preferred the other man alive, playing lightning rod for Immortals searching for "Methos."

While Methos didn't necessarily want any harm to come to the boy, he did wish that Richie would leave town or something. Anything but hang around here and distract Duncan from what was, in Methos' opinion, a more important subject.

After racking his brain, Methos came up with the story of the Inquisition to offer MacLeod, giving Duncan the excuse he wanted to go after Richie. If he arrives in time Methos thought I'm going to advise him to send that young man off on his own.

****

He had good reason later to congratulate himself on the success of his maneuver. Duncan MacLeod, with no crisis in his life for once, was showing an encouraging willingness to spend his days with Methos.

The two men had been spending most of their waking hours together, eating, talking, and even at sword practice. Methos had volunteered to teach MacLeod some of the more obscure tricks he had learned over the centuries in exchange for lessons on some of the newer techniques Duncan knew.

Both men were enjoying the lessons. Duncan, to his surprise and Methos' satisfaction, had found himself flat on his back more than once today, having fallen victim to some unorthodox and unexpected move from Methos.

Today MacLeod decided to argue. Picking himself up from the floor, he brushed off his clothes and glared at Methos. "These tricks aren't honorable! No warrior would use tricks like those in a fight!"

Methos' response was tart. "Nothing in your precious rulebook defines which fighting techniques are and are not acceptable Highlander! Honor has very little to do with survival." With a devious blow, he knocked MacLeod on his ass again and held his blade against the younger man's throat. "What will it be, MacLeod? Your honor or your life?"

Duncan tensed beneath him, glaring up at Methos defiantly. Then, deliberately, he laid his head back against the wooden floor, offering his exposed neck to his opponent's blade. "I will not choose." Duncan's refusal was clear. Smiling challengingly up at Methos, he invited, "You choose, my friend. My honor or my life?"

The look in the dark eyes invited the response Methos was most willing to give. Planting the tip of his sword against the hard oak flooring, he moved to kneel down beside Duncan.

Gazing down at the smokey eyes and the soft, full lips, he made a promise. "You don't have to choose for me MacLeod. You can keep them both."

The speculative smile on MacLeod's face turned inviting. At that critical moment, the telephone in the dojo office shrilled a demand for attention.

After a moment, Duncan climbed to his feet and went to silence the insistent machine. Listening to one end of the conversation, Methos heard him promising someone he would "take care of it right away."

Methos suppressed a sigh of frustration. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the floor and busied himself cleaning his sword. Close by, he heard the soft ring that signalled the phone receiver dropping, and the sound of Duncan's footsteps as he re-entered the room. Methos refused to look up, not wanting the younger man to see the disappointment in his eyes.

There was a short, awkward silence. Methos kept his gaze stubbornly on the sword in his hands. What had almost happened had been as much Duncan's idea as his own and Methos regretted only the interruption that had come before he was able to verify Duncan's invitation.

Duncan broke the silence himself. "I have to run an errand. We can finish the practice a little later, can't we?"

Pulling himself together, Methos looked up and smiled casually at the other man. "Of course. Tomorrow or any time."

Duncan hesitated, then offered, "I'll be gone for a while. Go ahead and use the loft if you want to clean up." Turning, he crossed the room to pick up both his sword and the concealing coat he habitually wore. Waving casually, he left the room.

Finishing the cleaning on his sword a short time later, Methos stood and stretched, wincing slightly as out-of-practice muscles complained. A shower sounded like a good idea. Grabbing his bag, he rode the elevator up to the deserted loft.

In the bathroom, Methos pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and turned on the shower. Testing the water, and adding more hot, he pulled off the rest of his clothing and stepped gratefully into the steaming water, letting it pour over his head and cascade down his overheated body. After a second, he reached for the faucet and adjusted the temperature until the water felt cold on his skin. He knew that he had to get his overactive imagination under control before MacLeod returned. That was, if he decided to stay around.

Downstairs, Duncan re-entered the deserted dojo. Halfway to his destination, he had decided the errand would wait. Something important had been happening before the phone call interrupted and Duncan had a feeling it needed to be resolved.

In the shower, rubbing the soap over his chest, Methos' hands dropped below his waist and brushed against his erection. For a moment he considered going ahead and taking care of the arousal that was the result of his recent encounter with MacLeod.

The strength of his response to the scene in the dojo surprised him slightly, and he knew that if he wasn't successful in establishing a relationship with MacLeod soon, it would be better if *Adam* disappeared.

Taking the stairs in preference to the noisy elevator, Duncan was greeted with the sound of the shower running when he entered the loft. Duncan had intended to force the discussion on Methos without wasting any more time. Now, it looked as though he would have to wait for a few more minutes.

He could hardly burst into the bathroom and demand an explanation of the other man's behavior. His soft laugh died away as he suddenly pictured Methos under a fountain of steaming water, thinking of those long fingers working soap into a creamy lather and spreading it over his body, across his chest and down between his legs.

The buzz in his head alerted Methos to the approach of another Immortal. Tensely he decided it was too soon for MacLeod to have finished his errand and returned. Damn he swore to himself. Just his luck, to lose his head in the shower. His sword was in the living room where he had dropped his bag next to the couch.

In the other room, Duncan was still picturing Methos in the shower and wondering if he had the nerve to walk in on the other Immortal without warning when he heard the water shut off.

****

Duncan looked up as the bathroom door opened. "It's about time," he complained, keeping his tone light with an effort. "I suppose there's no hot water left."

With a sigh of relief, Methos realized that the Presence he had felt had been Duncan. His contingency plan to survive the journey to where he had left his sword wouldn't be needed. "You scared the hell out of me, MacLeod. What brings you back so soon?"

Duncan laughed as he realized what must have been going through the other man's mind. "Afraid you were going to lose your head with your pants off?"

The joke was wasted on Methos. "I wasn't expecting the pleasure of your company again so soon. What happened to your errand?"

Now that the moment had arrived, Duncan realized he had no idea how to begin this conversation. "I'll tell you in a minute. Why don't you have a beer and wait for me."

As the bathroom door closed behind MacLeod, Methos walked into the kitchen and pulled a cold bottle of beer out of the refrigerator. Wandering casually around the loft, he stopped to gaze out at the uninspiring view. In a few seconds he heard the water running in the shower. Odd he frowned. Duncan certainly had been working out, but surely he hadn't returned to the dojo so soon just to take a shower.

In the other room, Duncan leaned against the wall. What the hell are you going to do now? He was panicked. Moving to the shower stall, Duncan turned on the water and began stripping off his sweaty clothes. Taking a shower would buy him some time to decide how to handle this situation.

Although he was determined to discuss his feelings with Methos, Duncan was beginning to realize how difficult it was going to be for him. For one thing, he didn't know how to start.

What was he supposed to say? Hi, I'm back, want to climb in the sack? It was easier with a woman, there were rules. He supposed there were rules for this situation also, but he hadn't done this often enough to know them.

Stepping into the shower, he yelped as the cold stream of water hit him full-on. Knowing Methos' passion for steaming hot showers, it hadn't occurred to Duncan to test the temperature. Well, he thought wryly, that solves part of the problem! His arousal had certainly disappeared and, as he adjusted the water temperature and reached for the soap, he had to admit he was relieved. The thought of making love with Methos was rapidly becoming an obsession with him.

From his position by the window, Methos heard the yell as the cold water hit Duncan. Grinning to himself, he remembered that he had forgotten to reset the shower temperature. That will teach him, he thought.

Methos stretched out on the couch and let his tight muscles start to unwind. The shower, while it had washed off the accumulated sweat and dirt from the day, had actually done very little to relax his overstimulated body. The rush of adrenaline MacLeod's unexpected entrance into the loft had caused hadn't helped. Waiting for MacLeod to finish his shower, Methos let his eyes drift shut and his thoughts wander.

Duncan, leaving the bathroom some time later was struck by the sight of Methos reclining on the couch, apparently sound asleep and without a care in the world. Clearing his throat loudly, he watched in amusement as Methos started abruptly. "Have a nice nap?" MacLeod asked him sweetly.

"I wasn't asleep, I was thinking. So, what brought you back so quickly?"

Still stalling for time, Duncan got a cold beer for himself and returned to the couch. Pushing Methos' legs onto the floor, Duncan dropped next to him and leaned back against the firm cushions. He could feel the warmth from Methos' body next to his.

Watching him closely, Methos was suddenly alert. Something was bothering MacLeod, something he was finding it difficult to discuss. Not another moral crisis he despaired. Duncan attracted lost causes like a magnet.

"Well, what is it? A damsel in distress or an old friend passing through town who just happens to have a problem only the great Duncan MacLeod can solve?

"It's nothing like that." Duncan brushed a hand through the long hair drying against his shoulders. "It's more of a personal problem."

"Anything I can help with?" Under his flippant tone, Methos was serious about the offer.

This was his opportunity. Duncan frowned slightly at the beer bottle. Finally he came to a decision.

"Yeah, I think maybe you can help, if you're serious."

Methos' reply was cautious. He had had ample experience with Duncan's "causes" and wasn't eager to get into another one. On the other hand, he *had* said that it was a personal problem.

"Of course I'm serious, I offered, didn't I?"

"It's about what happened this afternoon." Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the bottle in his hand, Duncan took the plunge. "Actually, it's about a lot of things, but it's also about that."

Methos felt his body tense. So, this was it. "Yeah, I guess we should talk about it." He didn't say anything else, waiting to take his cue from MacLeod.

Damn thought Duncan. He had hoped that Methos' reaction to his statement would give him an idea of which direction to go.

The silence stretched from long, to uncomfortable, to absurd, neither man willing to take the next chance.

"Well, I guess we've covered that pretty well. Do you want to get something to eat?" Methos finally broke the silence with his customary sarcasm.

Glancing up, he caught Duncan's eye and saw the involuntary grin. Seeing the humor in the situation, both men began to laugh. Suddenly the air was clear of the invisible tension that had been building.

As their laughter died, both men relaxed. Leaning back Duncan felt his shoulder brush the other man's. To his pleasure, Methos didn't move away from the contact.

Feeling MacLeod relax beside him, Methos leaned back against the sofa and let his arm brush against Duncan's. When the younger Immortal didn't pull away from the contact, he reached out gently and slid his fingers into the other's hand. For a moment, both men held this position, enjoying the moment.

Leaning forward, Methos sat his empty beer bottle on a nearby table. Moving to face the younger man, he slid over to close the few inches space that separated them. Untangling his fingers gently, he wrapped that arm around the back of Duncan's shoulders, pulling the other man to him.

Feeling Duncan's unmistakeable response, Methos wrapped both arms firmly around Duncan and kissed him passionately.

Eventually Duncan broke the kiss, trying to control his reaction. Smiling into his eyes, Methos teased him gently. "Is this the help you needed with your personal problem?"

"Not quite, but you're getting warmer," MacLeod grinned at him invitingly. "I'll let you know when you get hot."

"When *I* get hot or when *you* get hot? Because I think you're already there" Methos grinned wickedly as MacLeod's body stiffened in response to the exploring hand against the bulge in his pants.

Stroking gently at the straining fabric, Methos bent his head and stole another kiss. Watching Duncan's reactions carefully, he rubbed at the susceptible flesh, hearing the other man gasp as the soft material scraped against his sensitive skin.

Pulling his hand away, he slid away from Duncan and kneeled beside the couch. Grabbing the other man's shirt, he worked it over his head and threw it aside.

For a moment, he resumed the tantalizing stroking gesture, enjoying the sight of MacLeod squirming responsively under his hands. He reached out and ran his hands gently over his chest, his fingers pausing to tweak gently at the nipples and smiling at the soft gasp from Duncan.

Continuing his exploration, Methos ran his hand down to Duncan's navel, one finger pausing to explore the tiny indentation before he slipped his hand teasingly a few inches inside the elastic band of the sweat pants.

"Yes" The word slipped involuntarily from Duncan's lips, an agreement and an invitation. Satisfied, Methos slid his fingers down to grasp the throbbing organ, catching MacLeod's erection in both hands, one hand still rubbing against the fabric.

Duncan pushed eagerly against the too-gentle stroking. The next time Methos reached for the waistband of his pants, Duncan leaned back on his elbows and lifted his hips, letting Methos pull the soft fabric off of his legs. Taking advantage of Duncan's position, Methos ran his fingers down the fabric covering the erection.

"Methos!" Duncan gasped. Hearing the demanding note in Duncan's voice, Methos smiled to himself and reached for the briefs. He knew how badly Duncan wanted to be touched, but he didn't intend to rush through this. Moving carefully he pulled off the interfering garment and threw it aside. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the nude figure that lay in front of him, his eyes fastened on the bursting erection nodding from a thick mass of dark, curled hair.

As Methos paused to run his gaze slowly over the perfect body, Duncan grew tired of waiting. Swearing softly, he rolled over and pounced on Methos. Trapping Methos against the couch, Duncan knelt over him, one knee on each side of his thighs.

"I'm not a bloody statue!" he snarled, glaring down at him. Suddenly Duncan wanted to pull Methos' head down to his lap and force him to deliver what his hands and mouth had been promising.

Before he could act on the idea, Methos took advantage of the inviting picture in front of him. Sliding his hands up Duncan's thighs, he captured his slick erection in a firm grip. Feeling the throb of response in the swollen organ, he began to rub teasingly up and down the moist flesh. Freeing one hand, he slipped it between Duncan's legs and petted the sensitive skin there with a feather-light touch. After allowing a few seconds for Duncan to enjoy this new stimulation, his hands stopped moving, continuing to touch the sensitive area lightly.

"Hmmm...feels like marble from here."

 Pausing to catch his breath, Duncan opened his eyes and stared at Methos' teasing smile in disbelief.

Abruptly, he slid out of Methos' grasp and rolled to one side on the floor, pulling Methos after him and cradling his weight against his chest. Closing his eyes for a moment, Duncan felt the weight of Methos' thigh between his legs and, after a moment, the fabric-clad flesh began rubbing gently against him, promising another kind of satisfaction. After a moment, he pushed Methos onto his back and began to strip off what remained of the other man's clothing. Shoving the pile of fabric aside, he lowered his full weight onto the length of Methos' naked body, pinning the other man's arms over his head and sighing in satisfaction as he felt Methos' erection pressing against his own.

For a few seconds, he rubbed himself against the slender body under his, enjoying the feeling of being in control, knowing the other man was responding, defenseless against this sudden erotic assault. "This!" he whispered in Methos' ear, "This is what I wanted." Lowering his head, he began kissing Methos' neck, nipping gently at the skin under the ear and licking the taste of salt and sweat and soap from the damp skin. Working his way slowly around to the other ear, Duncan breathed into it softly, "You shouldn't be such a tease. Look where it gets you."

Under him, Methos gasped and pressed his hips up strongly against the firm stomach. The rougher feel of the tightly curled hair was almost more stimulation than he could handle. Fighting for breath, he gasped, "I'm not complaining. Yet."

Duncan pulled his head back slightly and looked at him in surprise. "Yet?" he questioned.

"Well, since you mention it, there *is* something that might improve things." With a smile, Methos took advantage of his momentary distraction to flip Duncan over on his back. Holding Duncan's arms, he lowered his head and mimicked the slow, teasing assault on the sensitive nerves in his neck. Nibbling the silken skin, he worked his way down to the taut nubs on Duncan's chest. Flicking each of them with his tongue, he smiled mentally at the unmistakable response in the hard body under his. Working his way further down the sweat-slicked skin, his hands and mouth rubbed and tasted every inch of exposed flesh.

As Methos' hands approached his straining erection, stroking gently through the tightly curled hair at the base and sliding over his flesh, Duncan forgot all about the mock battle for supremacy. Pushing against the other's hands, he begged silently for that exploring mouth to center its attention on his erection.

Methos responded, letting his lips slide along the soft skin and sucking gently as his lips touched the head. Pausing at the tip, Methos licked sensuously at the moisture gathered there, enjoying the taste and the shiver of reaction in Duncan's body.

"More" Duncan demanded softly, shaking with the need to bury himself in that hot, wet mouth.

Bending his head, Methos took as much of Duncan into his mouth as he could. He slid his hand toward the base of the bursting organ, combing his fingers teasingly through the dark, damp hair. Wrapping his hand firmly around the base of Duncan's erection, he let MacLeod's body establish the rhythm he preferred. Putting aside his own desire, with difficulty, he concentrated on the squirming body beneath him.

Feeling Duncan's climax overtaking him, Methos slid one hand down between Duncan's legs and stroked the sensitive skin, letting his fingers close gently around the hot sac. This final touch drove MacLeod over the edge. Arching his back, Duncan cried out sharply and came blissfully against the pressure of Methos' hands and mouth.

Methos slid up the length of Duncan's body until the two men lay side by side. Watching Duncan's still-heaving chest and his closed eyes, Methos wondered, briefly, how this had happened. Whatever, it was a gift from the gods and he didn't intend to waste the opportunity.

Reaching across Duncan, he grasped Duncan's shoulder and pulled the other man over on his side to face him. Duncan opened his eyes and smiled a sweet, satisfied look that echoed a promise in Methos' own body.

"Hmmm?" The younger man was still floating in a sea of pleasure.

Grinning slightly, Methos reached across the inches that separated their lips and kissed him. Duncan responded, his tongue teasing and tangling against Methos'.

Methos no longer tried to control his own urgent response. Moving quickly, he pressed his hips against Duncan's. Wrapping one arm around the other man, he pulled their bodies together firmly.

At the movement, Duncan's eyes opened and he smiled invitingly into Methos' eyes. "Seems like you have a personal problem you need some help with?" His voice was a teasing rumble that rasped down the other man's spine, centering itself in his erection. Methos smiled back, his eyes closing slightly as he rocked against the hard body next to his, soaking in the sparks of pleasure the movement generated.

Duncan watched Methos' face for a moment, enjoying the sight. Reaching down, he slipped his arm between them and pushed the other man's body a few inches away.

Methos groaned and opened his eyes, staring at Duncan with a dismay that dissolved into pleasure as MacLeod's strong, fingers found his sensitive organ and began brushing along the damp skin.

"I think we can do better than that," Duncan breathed into the other man's ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. Rubbing gently, hard enough to please but softly enough to prevent the pleasure from growing too quickly, Duncan watched the reaction in the responsive face next to his. Every sensation that raced through Methos' body was instantly reflected in his face, a sight that Duncan enjoyed thoroughly. Pulling gently, he let the sensitive skin slip through his fingers slowly.

Methos was past the point of objecting to any stimulation Duncan wanted to offer. He accepted the gentle stroking, moaning softly deep in his throat as the strong fingers found and caressed all the most sensitive nerves. Throwing his arm around Duncan's shoulders, he struggled to push against those muscular hips, to rub against that silken skin and feed the pressure building inside him.

Tensing his arm, Duncan prevented the move, pushing back against Methos until he was sprawled on his back beside Duncan. Moving his hand back to the throbbing cock, Duncan listened to the satisfied sigh and watched the beautiful, responsive body with pleasure. Under his teasing, the slender hips responded with growing excitement, rubbing with abandon against the pressure of his hand. Lowering his head, he stole a last lingering kiss before letting his lips work their way down to join his stroking fingers.

Methos luxuriated in the feel of Duncan's mouth sliding down his chest, nibbling and licking the skin until he reached the the throbbing erection. As the strong lips closed around him, Methos felt the tip of Duncan's tongue probing the tiny opening where the moisture was spilling out. Tangling both hands in the dark hair, Methos rubbed the head of his erection against the rough tongue. With every stroke the sensations exploded inside of him and pulled him closer to the fulfillment he needed.

Feeling the response in the body next to his, Duncan knew that Methos couldn't wait much longer. Under his coaxing, rubbing fingers the other man began to lose control, his hands tightening in Duncan's hair and his entire body concentrated on the sensations flooding through him. One final movement and the exquisite pressure building inside of Methos erupted. Everything in his body exploded under the tidal wave of feeling that crashed through him.

As Methos' frantic movements slowed and stopped, Duncan relaxed and let his head rest on the flat, firm stomach muscles heaving beneath him, he smiled in satisfaction. A very promising beginning. he thought.

****

As the dark velvet afterglow receded, Methos stretched his arm out and wrapped his fingers in the long, silky hair tangled invitingly over his stomach. Tugging gently, he pulled Duncan up to lie next to him. Wrapping their arms around each other, the two men were content to lie quietly, enjoying the echoes of pleasure tingling along the nerves of their sweat-slicked bodies.

After a few minutes, Duncan turned his head and smiled down at Methos, amused suddenly by the smug, satisfied smile. Pulling the other man close, he kissed him thoroughly.

As the kiss ended, Methos began to laugh softly.

"What?" Duncan looked at him curiously.

"Do you know, MacLeod, that this is the first time I've ever actually *enjoyed* helping you solve one of your many problems?"

For a moment Duncan looked offended. "I don't ask you for favors that often. Anyhow, when a friend needs help, I don't know how you expect me to..."

Methos silenced the lecture with another quick kiss. "I don't want to argue about your moral dilemmas right now, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"Do you know," Duncan said thoughtfully, "that that is the first thing you ever said to me? You called me Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"That's the way you introduce yourself," Methos pointed out.

"How did *you* know that?" Duncan was surprised. "The Watchers Chronicles can't be *that* detailed!"

"They aren't," Methos admitted. "At least not for all Immortals. You're a special case."

"I am?" Duncan looked flattered and cautious.

"It wasn't mean as a compliment, Highlander." Methos deflated MacLeod's ego in a hurry. "It's just that there aren't that many immortals who have been saying exactly the same thing to every person they've met for 400 years. It makes you conspicuous."

Duncan groaned. "I'm beginning to think this is your new assignment from the Watchers!"

"What is?" Methos looked startled.

"Making sure I don't get too high an opinion of myself. You've been putting me in my place since the day we met."

"Oh." Methos grinned. "For a minute, I thought you meant "this."

A second later Duncan felt Methos' hand wandering onto now-familiar and very sensitive territory.

"I have an idea," Methos whispered into his ear. Raising an inquiring eyebrow, Duncan looked at him expectantly. "Let's go to bed."

Duncan hesitated. Part of MacLeod, hell, most of him, wanted to skip the conversation now that his most urgent questions had been answered. Duncan hadn't doubted Methos' ability to enjoy sex with another man, just his willingness to accept MacLeod in that role. Now, before he got distracted again he was determined to get some of the other answers he had been looking for. Instead of taking Methos up on his invitation, Duncan started the conversation they should have had before.

"You didn't *have* to take a cold shower earlier. Why didn't you say something to me before?"

"I haven't said anything yet," Methos pointed out. Duncan grinned but refused to be distracted. "We're going to talk it to death now, aren't we?" Methos looked resigned. "Okay. I didn't say anything because I didn't think Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod would be thrilled to have his best friend make a pass at him."

Duncan thought about it. "I don't believe you. You knew I was interested. You *had* to have known."

"Why did *I* have to know?" Now Methos sounded exasperated. "If you were interested, why didn't *you* say something?"

Duncan didn't have an answer to this question.

"That's what I thought." Methos' voice was gentle now. "You weren't sure enough of what you wanted to ask for it. Why did you expect me to do it for you?"

Abruptly Duncan was sorry he had started this. It wasn't going at all the way he had anticipated.

"Am I your best friend?" He moved the conversation onto new territory. The look on Methos' face told him that the previous conversation would have to be finished some time but Methos went along with the abrupt change of subject.

"Yeah, I suppose you are." Now it was Methos who sounded reluctant to pursue the conversation. "It's not that big an honor. I don't have a lot of close friends."

Hearing the self-mockery in his friend's voice, Duncan pulled the other man to him in a reassuring hug. "You don't need a *lot* of close friends. Just a few good ones."

Methos nodded slightly.

Duncan sensed his reluctance to continue this very personal conversation. Taking a chance, he pushed a little harder. "What does this mean?" He tightened his grip on the other man meaningfully.

"What do you want it to mean?" Methos sounded wary.

"No," Duncan insisted. "This changes things, it has to. What does it mean to you?"

"You know what, MacLeod? You talk too much." Methos covered Duncan's mouth with his own in a lingering kiss.

After a second, Duncan responded eagerly, willing to let the rest of the uncomfortable conversation wait for a later time.

Pressing closer, Methos shifted his weight until he could feel every inch of Duncan's body against his own. By the time the kiss ended, Duncan was breathing heavily and the signs of his returning arousal were unmistakable.

A few seconds later, Duncan pulled away slightly and suggested, "I have an idea. Let's go to bed."

Above him, Methos chuckled slightly. Holding Duncan this way, feeling every response and every movement, Methos found he didn't want the sensation to end. On second thought he decided this is too good to stop. He eyed the flushed, excited face next to his for a moment, then resumed the slow rubbing of his hips against Duncan's.

Arching his back slightly Duncan pressed himself against Methos' body, feeling with pleasure the growing erection that rubbed against his own. Their two bodies shifted for a few moments before settling into a rhythm satisfying for both men.

Slipping his arm around Duncan's waist, Methos pulled the strong body closer to his own. After a few seconds, he allowed his hand to slide around and explore the firmly rounded backside feeling the muscles flex as the hips pushed against him. Testing Duncan's response, Methos slid his fingers into the valley between the cheeks, brushing one finger against the closely-guarded entrance. He was rewarded by a gentle return pressure. That was the response Methos had been hoping for. The rest of his fantasies were about to come true.

Turning his head, Duncan kissed Methos deeply, his body still responding to the memory of those probing fingers. Methos returned the caress then pulled away firmly, separating their bodies. "If we're going to move to the bed, we'd better go *now*" he said shakily. "In about thirty seconds it's going to be too late."

Duncan scrambled to his feet, hauling Methos with him. "It's about time. I was beginning to think you had a thing for this carpet!"

Reaching out to him, Methos slid his arms around Duncan's waist, able for the first time to fill both hands with the temptingly curved hips. Squeezing and rubbing the pliant flesh firmly, he pulled the younger man to him for a long, thorough kiss. After a moment, he felt Duncan's arms wrap around his shoulders and Duncan pressed their bodies firmly together.

As the kiss ended, Methos didn't move to release the younger man. Those firm, rounded cheeks felt *so* tempting in his hands and the feel of their two bodies rubbing together was giving him new ideas. Using one knee, he pressed against Duncan's thighs, forcing them slightly apart. That gave his searching fingers room to explore the sensitive nerve endings that had brought such an interesting response before. Pressing his finger gently against the opening again, he let the sound of the other man's breathing fill his ears. After a few seconds he let one hand slide around between their bodies to grasp Duncan's hardening erection, petting it softly and feeling the response.

Duncan was overwhelmed, trying to respond to the flood of stimulation. Methos deliberately kept him off-balance, applying pressure on both sensitive areas at the same time and keeping Duncan from settling into a pattern. Under his hands Duncan began to squirm enticingly as he struggled for a rhythm that would let him focus on the sensations. Leaning in, Methos captured his mouth in another passionate kiss.

As the embrace lengthened and Methos' busy hands refused to deliver the satisfaction he needed, Duncan's mouth and body grew demanding. Moving forward, he began thrusting hard against Methos' teasing fingers, forcing his erection against the rough flesh.

For a few seconds, Methos let Duncan stimulate himself against his hand, knowing that he could take back control at any time. Although the promise in the muscled body was inviting, he intended to claim the other's body with his own first.

Eventually he pulled his hand away from the hard erection, ignoring Duncan's frustrated groan. Cupping that hand around the younger man's hip, he increased the pressure of his other hand against the sensitive flesh. Carefully he forced the tip of one finger inside the hidden passage and massaged the hot skin.

Under his hands, he felt Duncan's weight shift as Duncan spread his legs slightly to allow the intrusion.

For a second, Methos imagined what it was going to feel like when he buried his throbbing erection inside MacLeod. He stopped suddenly. This was both too much and not enough. "Now or never," Grabbing his arm, he pulled the willing body toward the bed.

Pushing MacLeod down onto his back, Methos knelt over the other man and pressed a hurried kiss against his lips. The feel of MacLeod's hips twisting under his hands and the satin skin rubbing eagerly against his own erection had pushed Methos almost to the edge again.

Sliding down the other man's body, he teased the throbbing erection with his lips, lapping the beads of sweat from the surrounding skin and smoothing his tongue across the swollen tip.

Duncan's breath above him grew ragged and gasping as he abandoned himself to the caresses. Voluptuously, Methos gave himself up to pleasuring Duncan, sucking and nibbling every inch of the swollen erection. The sound of Duncan's gasps echoed through him, feeding his desire to take ownership of the trembling body. He pushed one hand between the hard thighs to fondle the sensitive sac and was rewarded with a low moan from Duncan.

All too soon, Methos was satisfied that Duncan was too close to the edge to deny him what he wanted. Although the other man's earlier enthusiastic reaction had been encouraging, Methos wanted to be certain nothing would interrupt what happened next.

Methos' own erection throbbed in anticipation of his next move. Reluctantly he freed his lips from the straining erection. The response raging through Duncan's body under his mouth was almost too good to lose.

Slipping his hand free, he slid up next to the other man and pushed Duncan over on his side facing the other way. Moving up behind him, he pushed the unresisting legs apart and whispered again. "This is what I want, Duncan."

Looking around, Methos took a guess and pulled open the drawer of the small table by the bed. As he had suspected, a tube of lubricating gel lay in with other miscellaneous items. Pushing Duncan gently onto his stomach. He opened the lubricant and spread a generous amount over his own erection, taking care to work one slick finger back up inside MacLeod. Under the touch, MacLeod shivered and Methos knew that Duncan was on the verge of pulling away. He knew that only the trust Duncan felt for him was holding the younger man in place.

"Are you okay with this, MacLeod?" Methos had no desire to stop this close to his goal, but he wanted Duncan's willing participation. The younger man didn't answer. "Duncan?" Methos insisted on a response. "Have you done this before?"

"Yes," Duncan's voice was quiet. "Once." Under the influence of this memory, Duncan's body suddenly relaxed. Privately Methos wondered who this very special friend had been. He would find out later. In the meantime, sensing his partner's renewed commitment, he moved back to his original agenda.

Replacing his probing fingers with the head of his bursting erection, Methos pushed carefully into the slick opening. Pausing for a moment, he let his own body adjust to this overwhelming sensation, then began thrusting against the now-responsive hips, pushing himself deeper into Duncan with every stroke.

Finally he was almost buried in the other man, his body moving against the slick skin. He forced himself to pause for a moment allowing Duncan's body time to adjust to the burden.

"MacLeod?" Methos gave the other man one last chance to stop him. Feeling the response in the hot, tight muscles squeezing against him, Methos almost lost control.

Catching his breath, he grasped Duncan's hips and began working himself against the willing body. As his desire grew his movements became rougher and faster. Finally, he bent over and locked his arms around Duncan' body, rocking his hips wildly against the squirming flesh. As he lost control, he heard Duncan give a cry of pain or pleasure that was the last thing he needed to push himself over the edge. Pulling back one last time, he buried himself inside of Duncan with a hard thrust and let his orgasm flood out of him. This time, the pleasure went on and on and he held onto the younger man's body as the sensations poured through him.

Duncan was motionless beneath him as Methos' weight collapsed against the other man's back. When his pleasure-fogged brain cleared, Methos placed a satisfied kiss against the firm neck.

Against his chest, he could feel Duncan trembling. Brushing a soft kiss against the nearby shoulder, Methos pulled the other man's body back against his at an angle that allowed him an uninterrupted view of all of the more interesting parts. He was very pleased to see the signs of Duncan's continued arousal. Leaning on his elbow, he contemplated what he could see of the younger man's face.

"Well?" The question was soft, but the voice demanded a reply. With his free hand, he pulled Duncan's head around and looked him in the eyes. "Your turn." Sliding his hand down, he reached for the bursting erection.

"Wait." Duncan's eyes watched him closely.

Methos looked back at him questioningly.

Duncan licked his lips and rolled toward Methos, reaching for him. Catching his arm, Methos suggested, "Let me get you ready."

Closing his eyes and swallowing hard, Duncan replied, "I am ready. And I don't think I can take it if you touch me again."

"I'll be very, very gentle," Methos promised.

Knowing what that would feel like in his current state of arousal, Duncan moaned. "No, for god's sake don't."

Slipping down to face Duncan's erection, Methos reached out with his tongue and licked very lightly against the hot flesh.

Above him, Duncan moaned in response and his hips bucked against the pressure. Shifting his arms, Methos held the squirming hips steady and concentrated the feel of Duncan's bursting erection against his exploring tongue.

True to his promise, he kept the greedy sucking gentle, driving Duncan to the edge of madness by the barely felt pressure of the rasping tongue. Reaching for the lubricant, he spread the slick gel over every inch of skin, covering Duncan's erection slowly and thoroughly. Methos only stopped when he was certain that Duncan could take no more.

Moving back up next to the other man, he grabbed the tangled hair and pressed a passionate kiss against the panting lips.

Methos' teasing shoved Duncan over the edge of restraint. With a muffled growl, he pushed Methos over on his stomach and climbed between the invitingly spread thighs. Barely pausing to move into position, he grabbed Methos' hips and shoved the head of his slick erection slowly into the tight opening. Moaning at the intensity of the feeling, he pushed harder, forcing the other man to take all of him at the first stroke. Under his hands, Methos pushed back responsively, inviting the pressure.

Bucking frantically, Duncan forgot everything except the climax building inside of him, gathering power and strength with every stroke. Thrusting into Methos, he barely heard the other man's gasps through the passion driving him. The only thing he could feel was the friction of the responsive hips shoving against him and giving him more pleasure than he would have believed possible. As he remembered whose body was beneath his, the world around him suddenly exploded and his body dragged him over the edge into an endless climax.

Beneath him, Methos shoved back strongly against the final thrust of MacLeod's hips and heard the younger man's cry as the storm of passion claimed him.

******

Eons later, Duncan felt coherent thought returning as his stunned body recovered from the overwhelming experience. Somehow, Methos had managed to roll over under him and was now holding Duncan's limp body in his arms. As his mind cleared, Duncan felt the gentle pressure of Methos' exploring hands.

Feebly, he tried to push the other man away. "No more, Methos. Are you trying to kill me?"

Under his ear, he heard the rumble of the other man's laughter and the roving hands pressed more firmly.

"You'd be surprised what you can do when you try, MacLeod." Methos chuckled again at Duncan's despairing groan. "However, I can see that you're out of practice. I think you need another shower."

Duncan's reply was definite. "I don't think I'd survive a shower with you. You go first, I'll shower by myself."

Methos pressed a teasing kiss against the soft lips. "I'll be very gentle. I promise."

Pushing him away slightly, Duncan smiled into Methos' eyes. "I've already had one experience with you being gentle. I'm not ready for that much consideration again."

Disappointed, but not surprised, Methos pulled himself free and climbed off of the rumpled bed. "Okay, coward. If that's the way you want it."

Laughing after him, Duncan called out, "It's your own fault, Methos."

"Very funny, MacLeod," Methos answered, before disappearing into the bathroom for the second time that day. "Since you don't want to join me, I'll spend the time thinking of a suitable revenge."

Inside the tiny room, Methos climbed into the shower and washed himself quickly. Finishing his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and returned to the other room. Calling to MacLeod, he insisted that the other man pull himself off the bed and get cleaned up. As he had suspected, the lazy response sounded more than half-asleep.

Returning to the bed, Methos spoke to the reclining figure in a stern voice. "Get up and take your shower Highlander, or take the consequences."

"Consequences?" The question sounded more alert and there was definitely a gleam of returning interest in the dark eyes.

"If I have to drag you in there, Highlander, you're going to get the coldest shower you ever took in your life!" Methos intended to threaten the reclining figure although he couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

Grumbling, Duncan climbed off of the warm bed and took himself off toward the bathroom. Along the way, he stopped to claim a kiss from Methos. "Want to come and help me wash my back?" MacLeod ran one hand teasingly down to the towel fastened around the other man's waist.

Methos pushed the exploring hand away. "You didn't help me, I'm not helping you. Get in there."

Duncan headed for the shower, not really disappointed to be alone. He really didn't think he had the energy for any more company right now. Besides, he needed a few seconds alone to think. As the steaming water cascaded over his head for the second time that day, his thoughts were with the man in the other room.

In spite of Methos' reluctance, Duncan needed to talk about what was happening here and how it was going to affect their friendship. At other times, and in other places, Duncan had had friendships strong enough to lead to sex. These were usually women, but he didn't have the innate prejudices of his time and sometimes the friends had been men. On a couple of occasions, these friendships had followed this same path. Those friends were the ones he never stopped missing.

Duncan cared too much about Methos to risk their current friendship by pushing Methos too far on emotional issues. He could only imagine how hard it must be to open up once again, after 5,000 years of loving and losing people. And yet, he wanted to explain his feelings, if he could find the words. And he wanted to explain his own reluctance to risk making an offer that might be rejected. An offer that might drive Methos away, leaving MacLeod with only regrets to fill the void.

As Duncan disappeared into the other room, Methos pulled back the rumpled blankets and crawled into the bed. Propping some of the pillows against his back, he took advantage of his temporary solitude to think back on the conversation Duncan had initiated, or tried to initiate earlier.

Now that the subject had been raised between them, Methos knew that they had to talk about it. He had to come up with an honest answer to Duncan's questions. In addition, and he smiled grimly to himself, Duncan was going to have to admit why he had been so reluctant to be the first one to initiate this new relationship.

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and let scattered images of other beds and other bodies parade across his memories.

Some of them had been important, others less so. Most of them had also wanted the same human reassurance that he would be there when they reached for him in the morning. Sometimes he was there. Other times he was far away by dawn. There were a few, like Duncan MacLeod, he had taken into his bed out of a friendship so strong he didn't know any other way to express it.

As the memories danced across his mind, he suddenly became aware that he was no longer alone in the bed. Opening his eyes, he saw Duncan sitting next to him, watching him closely. Looking at Duncan, the feelings inside of Methos suddenly became clear and he opened his mouth to explain.

Duncan, watching Methos, saw the answers he had hoped for in the expressive eyes. Leaning over, he stopped the unvoiced explanation with a kiss. "I know," he said softly. "Me, too."

****

The End