chelle

Highlander

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Eyes Snippet 3

chelle

Title: Eyes Snippet 3

Author: chelle

Author's email: chelle@chelle.slashcity.org

Author's URL: http://chelle.slashcity.org/

Fandom: Highlander

Category: Slash

Pairing: Duncan/Methos

Archive: Ask first

Rating: NC-17

AN: This was a birthday present for Kamil. She's willing to share; she's generous that way. Happy Birthday, hon! Your friendship has become an invaluable part of my life over the last couple of years, and I can't thank you enough for that. So I guess you'll just have to settle for smut.

"You're obsessing about the wrong part, you know," Methos said.

They were lying on their backs, side by side, amidst disheveled and sticky bedding. "Am I?" Duncan asked.

"Yup."

"So what part should I obsess over?" Duncan was fairly certain he knew the answer.

"My mind."

Not quite the answer Duncan had been expecting. "How, exactly, would I do that? And why would I want to?"

"Because it's my mind that makes me unique, makes me who I am. Thighs, nipples, backs, arms, lots of people have nice parts. But no one else has a mind like mine."

Duncan chuckled, although he had to admit there was some truth in the statement, but he didn't have to admit it out loud.

"You think I'm joking," Methos accused.

Duncan's chuckle became an outright laugh at the fake hurt in Methos' voice.

"The mind is the most important sex organ," Methos said loftily. "And I can prove it."

Prove it? This was something Duncan had to see. "How?"

"I can make you come without even touching you," Methos said with absolute confidence.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Okay." Methos grinned.

Duncan wondered if perhaps he'd spoken too soon and his eyes narrowed as he suddenly had visions of remote control suction devices. "What'll you do?"

"I'll talk to you."

Talk. Methos talked all of the time. Nothing new there. "So, talk."

"All right." Methos turned onto his side, close enough that Duncan could feel his warmth. "I enter a candlelit room. There's a large bed in the center of it, and you're on it."

"Am I naked?"

Methos smiled gently, beguilingly. "As a matter of fact, you are. The candlelight is playing across your skin, creating shadows in the most interesting places."

"I'll bet." Duncan smirked, not quite ready to acknowledge how much he liked the idea of Methos imagining him by candlelight.

"If you interrupt after every sentence I'll never get to the good parts."

Duncan pressed his thumb and forefinger together and ran them across his lips, zipping them together.

"Good." Methos rested his hand on Duncan's abdomen for a moment and then removed it. "I tell you to come to me, and you do, rising gracefully from the bed and walking slowly toward me. I'm enjoying the view, and you know it."

Duncan didn't say anything, but it was an effort.

"You stop in front of me, and I look into your eyes. 'Undress me,' I say softly. You don't answer, but you do reach for the top button on my shirt. You undo the buttons slowly, watching your own hands. You pull my shirt free of my pants and open the last button, pushing the shirt from my shoulders. Your eyes skate over my chest, down to my waist. You unfasten my belt and pants, careful not to touch my erection. I look down. Your cock is standing out proudly, as hard as mine."

"You push my pants to the floor, going down on one knee to hold them while I step out of them. Taking hold of my leg you strip off my sock. You do the same on the other side, and I'm left with only my boxers. They're loose, and my erection is making them tent out in front. I can tell the sight amuses you. Your eyes on my face, you reach for my cock, but I shake my head. You take the waistband of my boxers in your hands instead and pull them down, carefully lifting them over my cock."

"You stand, and I can't resist the urge to kiss you. I keep it brief, just a taste, just enough to sharpen the appetite without coming anywhere near to fulfilling it."

Methos had kissed him precisely like that countless times, and Duncan found himself imagining the kiss, almost able to feel Methos' lips against his own.

"I tilt my head, exposing the side of my neck, and I tell you to kiss me there. You do. Light, teasing touches of your lips and tongue. I want sucking, and you know it, but I don't ask for it, denying us both. Your hands are at your sides, but the head of your cock is resting against me, and mine is against you."

"You reach the base of my neck and stop, lifting your head to look into my face. 'Will you do whatever I ask, Duncan?' My voice is low, almost a whisper. You nod. 'Only what I ask?' 'Yes.' Your answer sends a shiver through me."

"'Kiss me,' I say, unable to stay away from your luscious mouth any longer. You do. Slow and deep, in keeping with the mood."

Duncan held his breath. He could picture the scene in his mind, feel Methos' mouth opening beneath his, eager and wanton.

"After the kiss, I tell you to caress my ear. You know what I like and your mouth closes over the lobe, sending desire pulsing through me in time with your sucking."

"I raise my hand to your chest, touching you for the first time tonight. You stop. 'Suck my nipple,' I whisper. You lean down to do as I asked and your mouth closes over my flesh. I contain my gasp, but barely. The suction is sweet and it goes straight to my cock. The idea, the reality, of having you at my disposal, willing to do whatever I ask is making my head spin with possibilities. I want you spread out before me, that impossibly beautiful body mine to caress, to devour, to fuck. Another part of me wants to revel in what you can do to me, to make you pleasure me in every manner I can imagine."

Methos paused. "Any preference, which I choose?"

"Which do you think I'd prefer?" Duncan countered, not sure of the answer himself.

Methos smiled, but he didn't answer. "I take your head in my hands and I guide it to the other nipple. Your hands are on my waist and I lift one of them to the nipple you just abandoned. You're sucking so hard I think you could pull part of me free and into you, but your hand…" Methos closed his eyes. "Your hand touches me with such tenderness. The contrast between the two caresses makes them both more intense."

"You move back and forth between my nipples, caressing them to the point where they're starting to get sore. I know the awkward position must be uncomfortable for you, but you don't complain."

"Finally, I can't handle anymore, and I put my hands on your shoulders, pushing you to the floor. You're kneeling in front of me, gazing at me with expectant lust. 'Touch me,' I say, startled by the flash of disappointment in your eyes. You stroke my length with one hand, holding it close to your mouth. I can't resist. 'Lick it.' Your tongue darts out, retreating quickly. 'More.' You lick me again, more firmly. 'Swirl your tongue around the head.' You do, and the sight almost stops my heart."

"Good thing you're immortal," Duncan said, needing to lessen some of the intensity.

"No interruptions, unless you want me to stop and we can just go to sleep."

"I'll be good."

"Yes, you will." Methos grinned. "Now, where was I?"

"I was on my knees, swirling my tongue around the head of your cock."

"I knew you were paying attention," Methos said smugly.

"Oh, you've got my attention, all right," Duncan said, the lust in his voice only slightly exaggerated.

Methos looked down at Duncan's erect cock. "You can touch it, you know. I won't mind."

"Uh-huh, and then I'll have come without you touching me, precisely as you claimed I would."

"So, you're on your knees," Methos began again, completely ignoring Duncan's point.

In the interests of expedience, Duncan chose not to press it.

"And your tongue is playing about the head of my cock, skillful and enticing."

"Enticing?"

"Oh, yeah. After just a few minutes of your tongue, I tell you to suck and you do. You only take the head inside, but the rhythm…It's perfect. I put my hand on the back of your head and press gently. You take more of me inside, inching your way down my cock. When the head hits the back of your mouth, you slowly pull back. It's slower than I want, but I don't care."

"Why not?" Duncan wondered.

"Because it's you."

Duncan didn't mention what that answer did to him.

"We spend a long time like that, and even though you're the obedient one, the one on your knees, I feel like a supplicant, worshipping your mouth with my cock."

"I'm close to coming when I finally place a hand on your cheek, stopping you. I tell you to lay down the bed. You walk toward it, but I hold back, trying to regain control, which isn't easy when I'm watching you walk, naked, the muscles in your ass flexing so…" Methos paused.

"Beautifully?" Duncan suggested.

Methos smiled. "Not quite the word I was looking for, but it'll do. You're on your back in the middle of the bed, and I approach slowly, trying to decide what I'm going to do when I get there."

"I kneel over you. You smile up at me. It isn't the challenging grin I expected. Instead, it's warm, welcoming, and affectionate. I think I would do anything, forgive anything, just to see that smile."

"I kiss you, over and over again, unable to get enough. I haven't been able to figure out what it is about your kisses that makes them so addictive. The truth is I don't really care, as long as you keep kissing me."

Duncan found himself wanting to reassure, to tell Methos that he would always want him, that he couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't want to kiss Methos, but he kept silent.

"You pull away, arching your head back. I know what you want, and I give it to you, kissing your neck, nipping at the most sensitive places. I abandon your neck for a nipple, sucking it in fast and hard. I'm only there long enough to feel the hardened flesh beneath my tongue before I return to your mouth, plunging inside for a quick, harsh kiss."

"I'm working my way across your chest with my mouth, pressing my cock against your thigh, and you're squirming beneath me. Realizing I'm losing control, I pull back. You reach for me, and I let you hold me long enough for the lust to abate a bit."

"I kiss you again, slower this time. I want to taste your arousal, feel your desire in the brush of your tongue against mine."

"I'm lying on top of you, and you shift under me, spreading your legs, tilting your pelvis. A shiver goes through me. 'Ask me, Duncan. I want you to ask me,' I say quietly."

"You ask. You ask me to fuck you. I didn't think my cock could get any harder, but it does. All it takes is you saying, 'Fuck me, Methos, please,' in that rich lust-filled tone you know I can't resist, and I'm so hard it hurts. I grab for the lube, fumbling with it, pouring out too much in my haste. You take the bottle from me and set it on the nightstand. Then you take my hand and guide it to your opening, pressing my fingers inside. At that moment I can't imagine anything more erotic than you pushing my fingers into you."

Duncan couldn't either, just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He wondered if Methos had added that detail to the fantasy after Duncan had pushed Methos' fingers into him a few days before.

Methos had fallen silent, and Duncan prompted him. "What next?"

Methos grinned. "What do you think?"

"Describe it for me, Methos. Tell me how you fuck me."

"You pull your legs back, and I stretch out above you, guiding my cock to your opening. I push carefully forward, but your flesh readily gives way, as though you are eager to have me in you. It is hard to go slow when your body is so welcoming, but I do. I sink myself in you inch by careful inch, feeling your warmth slowly cover me, your flesh surround me."

"Once I'm fully inside, I keep still, drinking in each sensation, committing them to memory: your legs wrapped around me like a vise; the sound of your breathing rapid, but deep; your hands squeezing my biceps; and your eyes locked on mine, filled with pleasure and arousal and something else, something I'm afraid to name."

"Apparently, you think I've been still long enough. You clench the muscles in your ass, and I gasp at the unexpected pleasure."

"I answer you by pulling slowly back, almost all of the way out, and then I slide slowly back in. It's the only controlled thrust I manage. The one after it is faster, and the one after that faster still. The room is filled with the sounds of our fucking. Flesh meeting flesh, two men breathing hard, gasping out their shared pleasure and mutual need."

"Methos," Duncan said, his voice surprisingly loud after the gentle intimacy of Methos'.

Methos leaned down and whispered, "It gets better."

Duncan couldn't quite imagine how, but nevertheless he believed it would.

"I'm lost in you, Duncan," Methos continued. "All that matters is your body against mine, the indescribable pleasure of having you surround me and take me in, over and over again. I'm close to coming and I resist, because I don't want it to end. Not yet. Then I feel you beneath me, muscles contracting, your entire body arching as you come. That's the moment when resistance becomes futile, and I give in to the need to thrust into you, deep and hard, and just let go."

Methos stopped, and Duncan was released from the spell his words had created. Unconsciously, he slowed his stroking, soothing himself. Realizing what he'd been doing, he jerked his hand away from his cock.

Methos smiled. "Don't stop yet. There's more."

"We both just came," Duncan pointed out, a hint of belligerence in his voice as he tried to cover his embarrassment.

"Since when has once been enough for us?"

Duncan couldn't argue, considering that they'd spent the past couple of weeks pounding each other into the mattress at every opportunity, and they'd both made sure there were plenty of those.

"Spent, at least for the moment, I'm content to simply rest on top of you. My cock slides from you and I realize you might not be as comfortable as I am. Rising, I shift onto my knees and look down at you. I find you beautiful pretty much all of the time, except when you wear that light blue jacket. I don't know who told you look good in that color, but they were wrong."

"Methos!" Duncan protested.

"Sorry. Where was I?"

"You were saying I was beautiful."

"You are, especially when—"

"It the jacket really that bad?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I'm sorry I mentioned it now. Look, if it makes you feel better, you look fabulous in that white sweater, the one you swiped from me."

"It was my sweater. You borrowed it."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

Methos shrugged. "I never did have a lot of respect for the idea of private property."

"Get back to the story, Methos, before you ruin the mood."

"Wouldn't want that." Methos grinned, his eyes sparkling.

Duncan wanted to pull him down and kiss him, hard, until Methos forgot everything else, up to and including his own name.

"I look down at you."

"Am I beautiful?" Duncan had to ask; resistance was futile, after all.

Methos ignored him. "Your legs are spread, and one is slightly higher than the other. Your cock is flaccid, resting against your pelvis. Our cuddling was smeared the come on your chest, and in several places the hair is matted down, sticking to your skin. I look into your face, and you smile at me, relaxed and happy. It's the smile of a man who's feeling well-fucked. My cock responds, sending a tiny spark of lust through me. My heart responds, too, and I find myself smiling back. I know the smile's too broad, that it makes me look foolish, but I can't seem to soften it, even though I try."

"Your own smile deepens and you sit up. Placing a hand on the side of my face, you guide my lips to yours. It's a lovely kiss, affectionate."

"You lay back, still smiling, except there's more than a hint of self-satisfaction in it now. That, I simply cannot allow. Taking hold of the back of your legs, just above the knee, I push your legs back. 'Hold them,' I growl, and you do, reaching around to replace my hands with your own. I study you for a moment, liking what I see, you holding yourself open for me."

"I know you're wondering what I have planned, and I hate to torture you. I lean forward and lick playfully at your opening. You gasp. I smile. Settling in, I move my tongue slowly around the edge. The lube is tasteless, but there's a synthetic oiliness to it that's unpleasant. I don't care. I continue to lick you, enjoying the slight roughness of your skin. It's such a contrast to the smoothness inside you. I circle the outside again and again, waiting. At last you say it, my name. I slip my tongue just inside, licking lightly at the top. You gasp again. I pull my tongue back, and then I push forward, going just a little bit deeper. The taste of my own come catches me by surprise. It also brings me fully erect in the space of a heartbeat."

"I'm rubbing your ass cheeks with my hands, caressing them as my tongue probes deeper. You say me name again, and it's followed by more words, but I can't quite make them out. I pull my tongue out, and stroke between your cheeks with my thumbs. Holding you open, I slide my tongue back into you."

"You say something that sounds like please, but I can't tell because it's lost in a moan. You're almost beside yourself with pleasure, and it's as though I can feel it too, as though pleasure is traveling back into me, from your anus to my tongue and down to my cock and then back again. I'm grinding my hips into the bed, but I'm so focused on you that I don't even notice."

"There's a steady litany of sounds pouring from your mouth. The taste of my come is mixed with the earthier flavor of your flesh, and I'm dizzy with the thought that I can taste us, our passion for each other made tangible."

"You start to come, surprising me. I hadn't realized how close you were. I'm even more surprised to find myself coming with you."

"You lower your legs, and I rest my cheek against your thigh until you reach for me, pulling me up for a soft kiss, and then enfolding me in your arms."

Methos fell silent, and Duncan stared at him, his heart pounding. He was close to coming, so turned on all it would take would be the slightest touch, or maybe another sentence or two.

Methos was gazing expectantly at him, waiting for a comment, but Duncan didn't feel quite up to playing literary critic, or even smut critic. In one motion, he was off of his back and pushing Methos onto his. Then he was devouring that mouth. Methos gave as good as he got, evidently as turned on as Duncan was.

When Duncan broke the kiss, they were both panting. "Methos," Duncan said, shocked at the almost plaintive tone of his own voice. "I want…I need to fuck you."

"Yes."

Methos spread his legs, and Duncan reached between them. Methos was still loose, still wet from the last time. Duncan couldn't think about that, about Methos wet and loose and well-fucked, because if he did he'd come.

He pushed inside, rougher than usual, but Methos didn't seem to mind. There were no pauses, no gentle inching forward. Instead, he slid into Methos in one long, deep thrust. Methos' body closed around him, holding him tight. He drew his hips partway back and thrust back in, short and sharp.

"Yes," Methos groaned, his hands pressing on the backs of Duncan's shoulders.

Duncan couldn't have held out if he'd wanted to. A couple more thrusts and he was coming, pouring himself into his lover.

Methos hadn't come, and Duncan took him in hand, stroking roughly, demanding that Methos come too. He did. His back arched, and his mouth opened in a silent cry, and his cock jerked in Duncan's hand.

Satisfied, Duncan resumed thrusting, slower than before. The edge was off and he could settle into the nice, even rhythm he knew Methos loved.

Methos groaned at the renewed motion, his head turning to the side, away from Duncan.

"I'm sorry," Duncan murmured, kissing his lover's cheek. "I just…I'm so turned on…I can't get enough of you, of the way it feels to have you spread out beneath me, so willing and open, so fucking hot. And the way you feel inside. God, it's…I can't describe it. It's…It's you, Methos. It's you."

Methos was staring at him, eyes bright with emotion. Duncan kissed him just to escape the intensity of that look.

Wrapping his arms around his lover, Duncan shifted back onto his knees, bringing Methos with him. The movement sent him still deeper into his partner and they both cried out.

Methos' arms were around Duncan's shoulders and he rested his head on one. Duncan stroked his back and sides. After a few minutes, Methos began to rhythmically tighten the muscles around Duncan's cock.

Duncan moved his hips just a little, just enough to move him over Methos' prostate. Soon, they found a rhythm. Thrust, clench, thrust, clench.

Methos lifted his head and they kissed until the pleasure became too much and they were merely panting into one another's mouths.

A final, shuddering orgasm followed.

They held one another, not speaking, enjoying the relaxed intimacy. Unfortunately, with the intense pleasure subsiding the position was no longer comfortable. With what Duncan hoped was a reluctant sigh, Methos lifted himself off of Duncan's lap and fell back onto the bed.

Duncan lay down beside him and reached for his lover's hand. "The bed's a mess," he observed.

"Umm."

"You're a mess."

"And I probably slosh when I walk."

Duncan laughed.

"Go ahead and laugh. Just how many times did you come in me today, anyway?"

"I don't know. I lost count."

"I'm not sure if I should find that flattering or not."

"Be flattered." Duncan lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Methos'. "You should definitely be flattered."

"Get me some water, will you?"

"Sure." Duncan rose from the bed, but paused beside it. He grinned down at his lover. "Are you going to watch me walk across the room?"

"Probably. But my appreciation will be purely aesthetic."

"I'll try to walk beautifully for you then."

Methos laughed.

Duncan smiled to himself as he went to the sink. He liked making Methos laugh, and he'd discovered that Methos laughed more easily after sex. Duncan had even taken to telling him bad jokes. It was an unusual post-coital ritual, but it worked for them. He tried to think of a joke he hadn't already told Methos while he prepared two glasses of ice water.

Returning to the bed, he held out a glass.

Lifting himself onto his elbow, Methos accepted it, drinking half of it in one long swallow. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Duncan climbed back into the bed and began straightening the bed coverings. "Maybe we should change the bedding."

"It'll keep until morning."

Duncan took a long drink of water. "I think you should fuck me tomorrow."

"We're going to schedule it now, are we?"

"Maybe we should. Frottage on Wednesdays. Sixty-nines on Tuesdays."

"Have we actually done that?"

"Sixty-nine? Twice last week and the week before." Duncan tried to look insulted. "Don't you remember?"

Methos finished his water and reached across Duncan to set the empty glass on the nightstand. "Sure. I just needed my memory jogged."

Duncan leaned close to Methos. "Prove it. Describe it for me."

"No. Absolutely not." Methos settled his head onto the pillow and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. "I am going to sleep, and I am not having sex with you again until I've had at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep."

Duncan chuckled. He drained his own glass and put it beside Methos'. Turning out the light, he snuggled down into the bed. "'Night, Methos."

"Good night."

He waited. Methos' breathing was evening out, getting slower and deeper, but he wasn't asleep yet. "So, will you fuck me tomorrow?"

"Go To Sleep, Duncan."

Duncan smirked, thinking it was probably a good thing Methos couldn't see his expression in the dark. He waited. He knew Methos would say it, eventually.

"Yes."

The smirk softened into a smile. Tomorrow promised to be a good day. Methos was choosing to ignore the fact that he hadn't succeeded in making Duncan come without toughing him, but Duncan would be sure to remind him. Methos' mind, indeed. Duncan could think of far more obsession-worthy parts than that. Like Methos' ears, or maybe the soft skin on the insides of his joints, or even his cock, or his tongue. Oh, yeah, Methos' tongue. Now, there was an object worth obsessing over.