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Title: Bede

Author: chelle

Author's email:

Author's URL:

Fandom: Highlander

Category: Slash

Pairing: Duncan/Methos

Archive: Ask first

Rating: NC-17

AN: Killa, Lys, and Kamil all had a hand in betaing this. Without their help, especially Killa's, it would be not of the good, as Kamil would say. Thank you, ladies. This is what comes of reading manga with Emu.

Duncan groaned. Methos liked to hear him, and with Methos' tongue pressing inside him Duncan needed to groan. Soft and warm, moving over skin that became more sensitive with each touch, Methos' tongue could reduce Duncan to a creature of pure, wanton need faster than anything else Duncan had ever known.

Methos pulled slightly away, and Duncan sighed with relief. "I have a surprise for you."

Duncan was on his knees, resting on his forearms; he ignored the slight flutter of uncertainty that passed through him. "Will I like it?"

Methos pressed a quick kiss to Duncan's buttock. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Telling would spoil the surprise. Close your eyes."

Inhaling deeply, Duncan closed his eyes. He felt the bed shift and heard Methos open the nightstand drawer. The bed shifted again, and then Methos' tongue was back, licking quickly at the edges of his entrance, wetting his skin. The warm tongue was withdrawn and replaced with something cool and round and hard. Duncan wanted to look back, to see what it was, but he kept his eyes closed.

"Open for me." Methos' voice was sensual but insistent.

Before Duncan could respond, the object- whatever it was- was sliding across wet skin and into him, all the way in. He gasped in surprise as his body closed around it. "Methos?"

"Don't worry, I can get it out again." Methos sounded faintly amused, but there was enough lust in his voice to send a shiver through Duncan. Methos did something and the object inside him moved. A string.


"Yes, do you like them?"

"I don't know yet."

"Then we should find out."

Duncan bit his lip to keep from groaning, not at the words but at the voice. Methos didn't just caress with his hands and skin and mouth. Oh no, not Methos, he used that outrageously sensual voice of his to make all sorts of promises, to make Duncan shiver with anticipation.

This time the bead wasn't a surprise, and Duncan welcomed the contact when Methos pressed it against his skin. The beads were pleasant, but Duncan was more excited by the idea of Methos behind him, carefully inserting one after the other.

Methos' tongue passed over his entrance in a broad swipe. Duncan inhaled sharply. The first time Methos had rimmed him he'd pulled away after a few minutes, rolled onto his back and asked Methos to fuck him. He'd reacted the same way the second time and the third until Methos had given up trying to make it anything other than foreplay. Duncan started to panic. He couldn't roll away and ask Methos to fuck him while stuffed half full with beads. Methos would just have to take them out.

Quick, light, almost not there touches to his opening were followed by a long, slow swipe between his cheeks.

It was Methos' concentration, his focused attention, which undid Duncan. To have someone, to have Methos, doing this to him, lavishing his most intimate places with such gentle, attentive caresses was too much. He wanted to pull away, but he didn't. Because as much as he wanted to pull away, he wanted Methos more.

Methos withdrew his tongue and Duncan let out a long, shuddering breath. The plastic wasn't cool when it touched his skin, but Duncan welcomed its hardness, such a contrast to Methos' soft, decadent tongue. The ends of Methos' fingers slipped into him along with the bead and Duncan pushed back, wanting more of that familiar touch, but Methos took his fingers away.

Methos' tongue returned. The touches were so light Duncan might have thought Methos was asking permission, except Methos never asked permission. Methos simply took command of Duncan's body and Duncan couldn't stop him no matter how much his mind screamed that he should.

Inside, Methos' tongue went inside him, all at once. Duncan felt one of the beads move as Methos pushed against it. Methos slowly drew his tongue back, and then returned it just as slowly. Methos was fucking him.

Duncan heard the sound that escaped him, felt himself rock back on his knees, seeking more.

Methos' hands were clasping the front of Duncan's thighs for some reason; Duncan was aware of that.

But the only thing he knew for sure was that he was rocking, rocking back onto Methos' tongue, his face, anything. Anything to get more.

Then it was gone, the warmth, the softness, Methos. Gone. No sigh of relief this time, just a frustrated groan. Another bead, but Duncan didn't welcome it. He tried to squirm away, but it was sliding into him, pushed by something warm and soft, and Duncan pushed backward, needing that warmth to stay. Needing Methos to stay and lick him and fuck him and it didn't matter that he was out of control. All that mattered was getting Methos not to stop. "Please, please, Methos, please."

Methos' hands clasped his buttocks, his thumbs pulling Duncan open, and then the licking resumed. Hot, Methos' tongue was so hot, and it was everywhere. Duncan was held tight in Methos' hands, unable to move, unable to get that tongue where he needed it. He needed it at his center, moving into him. "Please." Duncan had never begged before, not with Methos.

It worked. Methos resumed his slow in and out movements, releasing Duncan's hips so Duncan could move with him. The almost frantic need eased as they moved together. The beads shifted at unexpected moments, a counterpoint to the steady rocking of Duncan's hips and the strokes of Methos' tongue.

Duncan's hands tightened in the sheets and he shoved his hips back. As good as this felt, it wasn't enough. He wanted to be touched deep inside.

Methos must've known what he needed because the tongue disappeared and before he could react Duncan felt the familiar touch of Methos' fingers. He responded greedily, pressing back into the touch. Groaning when they slid inside.

Methos pushed on one of the beads, pressing it against Duncan's prostate. Duncan's hips bucked as pleasure shot through him.

He began to move the bead back and forth. There wasn't much room, and Duncan knew the movements were small, but they felt huge. The sensation of the bead moving across his prostate was overwhelming. Duncan almost sobbed as the pleasure opened him up, made him Methos'.

The strange caress continued; Methos didn't change the pace or the pressure, but the pleasure grew stronger. It was concentrated deep inside, but it made Duncan feel like he was reaching out in all directions at once, stretching or being stretched. And Methos was there. Duncan could feel him, feel the solid presence of him, the warmth of his hand where it rested on Duncan's back. Methos grounded him, while at the same time being the reason Duncan needed grounding.

Duncan wasn't rocking anymore. He was still. Poised at the brink and so aroused that even breathing was erotic. The small movements of Methos' fingers inside him were the only touch he wanted.

He lifted his head as the tension grew tighter, pulling in on itself, becoming a tiny focused point before letting go. Every muscle in his body contracted when he came. Short, sharp bursts of rapture against a background of deep intimate pleasure.

Duncan was still trembling when he collapsed against the bed. He was dimly aware of Methos' fingers being withdrawn and then Methos was there beside him, offering his strength. Duncan reached for it, curling into his lover. Methos' arms closed around him and warm kisses were pressed against his cheek.

Methos. He was safe with Methos.