Hi guys,
first of all I have to sadyl state that the lovely men do not belong to me but to whoever wrote them up first :-(
Also, this story is slightly on the slashy side. So if that bothers you, please go away!
This little stories was inspired by the song Die Katze by Annett Louisan, which I believe describes Methos perfectly.
And now enjoy. Also reviews are always welcome:-)
Feline Grace
Duncan never could figure out the strange relationship between himself and Methos. Hell, if he is honest with himself he could never figure out the relationship Methos had with anyone. He always seemed to appear when he was most needed just to vanish the second the trouble was over. The old man claimed to care for no-one but himself and yet he was willing to lay down his life to help Duncan beat Kalas. Methos is a walking contradiction, the Highlander concluded and resigned himself to the fact that Methos will continue to walk in and out of his life as he pleased, in a rhythm only he could ever see.
That is until one night, when the memories of Kronos once more threatened to overwhelm him. Duncan experienced these nightmares ever so often. It seems the former Horseman just did not want to settle down quietly but took perverse pleasure in showing Duncan in great detail all the monstrous things the four riders and especially Death did. But on said night the dream/memory was different.
Methos was sprawled on the cushions surrounding the temple the Horsemen had just invaded. While his brothers Caspian and Silas were busy slaying the last survivors and fighting over the lovely scared priestesses, Methos lounged about as if he owned the place. Which in a way he did, Kronos decided. Everything in a way belonged to him, to the Master of Death. The torchlight highlighted his graceful features, the long limbs deceptively spread to portray laziness and contentment. Hooded eyes and a small secretive smile followed the escapades of his brothers. Kronos was reminded of the Sphinx. Ageless beauty and mystery. The changeable eyes found his and the smile grew a bit more inviting. Yet the Horseman leader knew without a doubt that the creature beckoning him could just as well receive him with a kiss as with a dagger. Which he would choose today remained to be seen. Slowly Kronos advanced careful not to miss any change in the body displayed before him. But the smile stayed, just turned into a seduction while the hands started a lazy pattern across the chest. Kronos was hard long before he reached his companion. When he sank down to finally kiss that lush mouth, Methos jumped up and with a laugh and a peck to the cheek was gone. Aroused and amused Kronos followed.
Inspired by the sight presented to him by Kronos Duncan observed the ancient Immortal sprawling on his sofa even more closely. The only conclusion he could draw was that for once he had to agree with the murderer whose quickening he took: Methos was just like big cat. He may allow you to touch and pet him but he would never be Kronos said Death has no Master but himself. And Death is still there deep within Methos, maybe sleeping maybe watching. But just like a wild cat you never knew when he would strike next.