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Show and Tell MacLeod lifted the elevator gate with his right hand while struggling to maintain his grip on the over-full grocery bag in his left arm. A slightly crumpled Methos moved from his position by the sofa to offer help, but the Scot successfully manoeuvred his way to deposit the bag on one of the kitchen surfaces. He turned and looked more closely at his lover. Methos was looking decidedly more rumpled than when Duncan had left him an hour earlier to go shopping. "Has anything happened?" he asked moving towards the sofa. Methos licked apparently dry lips. "Happened? Nothing's happened." MacLeod looked suspiciously around the room as though expecting an ambush. "You look like a little boy who's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. What have you been up to?" "Nothing," Methos repeated, not quite meeting the Highlander's eye. MacLeod came near to the old Immortal. Close enough to see the slight dilation of Methos' pupils and the remnants of a flush on his cheeks. There was also the faint trace of a familiar scent. The Scot reached down and took hold of Methos' right hand, bringing it up so that he could sniff the palm. The musky scent was very familiar. MacLeod grinned in triumph at having caught his wily lover out at something. "Oh, so your hand hasn’t been in the cookie jar has it? We've been 'entertaining' ourselves while I was out, have we?" He made a descriptive gesture with his free hand. Methos met his amused look with one of his own. "So what if I have?" he asked and reclaimed his hand. He stepped away from the Highlander and grinned flirtatiously at him. "So?" he asked, archly. The Scot came close and wrapped muscular arms around him. He buried his face in Methos' neck for a moment. Then the scent of the old man and the familiar feel of him against his body made his cock twitch in arousal. Methos' ear was close to his lips, that delicate, sensitive, *edible* ear. He bent to nibble on it gently, hearing his lover sigh as he did so. An idea formed in his mind. "So - show me," he whispered. "What?" Methos asked. "Show me what you do when you pleasure yourself," MacLeod asked. "When I'm not here." He moved his lips away from Methos' earlobes and began to nibble on a certain favourite spot of his just behind Methos' ear. His lover squirmed under the treatment and pressed his body closer to MacLeod's. "Show me," the Highlander repeated. Methos pulled himself back from the path of arousal he was following. "You're not serious?" he asked, as though wondering where this path was going to take them. MacLeod nodded. "I want to watch you," he said, his hands starting to remove Methos' shirt. The prospect of watching Methos squirming in pleasure in front of him was exciting him more than he had thought possible. The old immortal looked into the dark eyes of his lover. Whatever he saw there amidst the desire and arousal reassured him, and he nodded. "OK, then." He pulled his shirt off and began to walk towards the bed, unbuttoning his fly as he did so. He paused to push down his jeans and shorts together and then step out of them. He stood naked before his lover. MacLeod, struck as always by the beauty of the pale, predator's body, stepped forward to touch the smooth skin so enticingly displayed before him. His lover forestalled him by grabbing each hand in his and holding them away from his body. He did, however, lean forward to engage lips and tongues in a sweet, questioning kiss. "Do you still want to watch?" he asked when the kiss had ended. MacLeod hesitated as his desire for Methos nearly overcame him, then he drew a controlling breath and nodded. "Yes," he said from a mouth dry with passion and anticipation. Methos smiled and let go of his lover's hands. He moved to the bed and quickly lay down on it. He lay on his back with his feet flat on the bed, his knees bent and apart so that he displayed himself fully to MacLeod, who came to stand at the foot of the bed. He started by trailing his fingers slowly down his body to his thighs. With just the tip of his fingers, he began to stroke up and down his inner thighs. MacLeod watched those fingers in fascination - he knew from experience how good that delicate tracing of fingers on skin could feel. It seemed that Methos agreed with him, for his cock started to slowly swell and stiffen. His hands moved higher, roaming up over his belly and chest, and then back down to torment his inner thighs again. The slow, fingertip stroking continued - Methos touched his legs, chest, and stomach with delicate strokes. Only his nipples and groin remained untouched. Gradually the angle of his hands changed so that it was his fingernails that trailed over his flesh. The touch was as gentle as before, but it left a network of little red lines on his skin that quickly faded. Finally, Methos let a finger stray over a nipple. He let out a breathy little sigh at the sensation. He did it again and then again. He bit his lip and rocked his hips slightly as he finally gave in and rubbed a nipple between finger and thumb. "Ah, Mac," he sighed. "What do you see?" MacLeod asked, fascinated by the erotic display in front of him. "You," Methos said in a soft voice, tightened by passion. "We're at the cabin. It's mid morning. You're up working and I'm still in a robe. You're chopping wood. I come out to the porch to watch you. It's hot and you're just in cut-off jeans. You're so beautiful. I can see your muscles move under that golden skin. I can see you're sweating. I want to touch you, taste you. You're so beautiful. You get me hard just looking at you. You don't see me. I just stand there, touching myself and looking at you." His hand imitated what was happening in his head and finally touched his neglected cock. Both men groaned as his long fingers gripped the shaft and started a slow journey up and down. MacLeod's own arousal was growing by the second. He shifted uncomfortably for a few moments and then gave in and opened his fly, uttering a little sigh of relief as his cock sprang free. Methos continued in his soft voice. "Then you look round and see me. See my cock. You drop the axe and walk towards me. I can see you're already half-hard through your tight cut-offs. Maybe you've been thinking about me." "Yes," MacLeod whispered. "You get close and I can't see anything but you. You grab me and push me back against the wall. I'm surrounded with hardness – the wall behind, your body against me, your cock against mine. You feel better than you look. Hard and hot and slick and just that bit of grittiness from the dust. I raise my lips for a kiss and then your mouth is on mine. You're hard and strong and you plunge your tongue into my mouth. I know what you want. You want to be deep in me. I want it too." Methos' hand was moving faster now, his hips starting to thrust his angry-looking cock into the harder grip. His other hand was pinching each nipple alternately, moving swiftly across the passion-flushed chest. "Then we're in the cabin. I've lost the robe and you push me face down on the sofa. I can feel your hot, slick body against me and then you're in me. You fill me so deep, so hot. You start to move just right; slow, deep. Gods! You haven't taken your shorts off, just unzipped the fly. I can feel the cloth and metal against my arse. It feels so good. You're getting faster. It's just what I need. Oh. Yes! Just like that. Hard. Fast. Deep. Hard. Fast. Deep." Methos gasped those three words as though they were some kind of mantra of sex as his strokes up and down his cock became frantic. His back was arched as he thrust his hips in time with his hand and his words. "Hard! Fast! Deep! MAC!" With that final shout he came, his essence spurting over his fingers and on to his chest and belly. Then he collapsed back on to the bed, breathing hard. He opened his eyes and looked towards his audience for a reaction. MacLeod's body was on fire with lust and passion. He could never have believed how erotic watching Methos' display was. But that intimate, hesitant look from Methos snapped his fragile grip on his self-control. He threw himself onto the bed beside his lover, aching to touch and be touched. The old immortal's lips were still parted as he gasped air in the aftermath of his orgasm. MacLeod's mouth fastened over them, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of his mouth. "Methos," he moaned when he broke the kiss. "What?" For an answer MacLeod grabbed Methos' hand and pulled it down to his weeping erection. The hand was still slick with essence and it grasped the rigid cock with an expertise that the Highlander knew well. His own hand came down to join in the pleasuring and he began to thrust hard and quickly into combined grip. It didn't take long. The combined sight and scent of Methos surrounded him, and the practised touch on his cock lifted him on to a new plane of urgency. He thrust and thrust and then he came, arching his back and shouting his pleasure as the release pulsed through him. He collapsed on the bed, gasping for air and then looked into the hazel eyes smiling into his. "How do you do it?" MacLeod asked. "Do what?" "Turn me on so much." Methos smiled, knowingly and a little smugly. "Practice," he said. "Show me," MacLeod asked. Methos cupped the Scot's handsome face with his free hand and let his thumb rub gently over the full lips. "Anytime," he promised. The End
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Freyja's Highlander Slash Fic |
