Memories from Caspian

Emilia Smith

R-NC17 story

M/C, M/DM slash

Methos voluntary hurt

Duncan searches through caspians memories after Bordeaux and finds methos.

After the fight at the base in Bordeaux Duncan helped a still weeping Methos up and helped him out side and away from the most likely coming authorities soon to be arriving on the seen. He brought them to the hotel where he and Cassandra had been staying, figuring that she would be long gone by now. Which she was thankfully.

Duncan was confused as to how to go about treating Methos now. They had been lovers only a few months but he was very attached to him, he cherished him, wanted to protect him desperately.

What he had not known was that Methos was more than capable of fighting his own battles, that he was a more than competent swordsman, in fact much better than he had ever let on. Duncan hadn't noticed him holding back in their sparing, Methos always stayed with in his supposed skill level while fighting, even the challenges Duncan had seen him fight. At least he hadn't noticed until he saw his fight with Silas earlier. He'd seen him fight a giant of a man who's weapon of choice happened to a humungous ax, and from what he'd glanced, Methos had been more than capable to fight him. Duncan had doubts about how he would have fared in Methos's place.

It wasn't until late that night that Duncan had the chance to clear his mind, to try to assimilate the energies still coursing through his body. He was laying in bed with Methos in the nondescript hotel with the covers pulled up tight around them both. His lover was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and that was when his mind started to wander. Slowing down his breathing, allowing the thoughts and images to run freely in his mind, the ones that needed acknowledgment before settling inside him.

Carefully he called Caspian to the forefront, he'd felt him rattling around the whole impossibly long day. In him he had felt madness, cruelty, and a twisted sort of passion that was the man's own. Now he let Caspian wash over him, bombarded with images of many many many deaths that he'd caused, reveled in, taken pleasure from, over the course of his amazingly long life, along with the sweet screams of his victims as they were tortured, broken, sometimes eaten afterwords or pieces during. Duncan would forever know the weight of a man's still beating heart as it was ripped effortlessly from a still screaming body.

The other horsemen were there as well, living in tents in the desert, feelings of safety and contentment, brotherhood flowed over him accompanying the images. Fighting with Silas, playing with his pets, the mans outrage at finding them tortured and bleeding, or just dead. Taunting him, but in a good natured way. Watching Kronos and Methos seclude themselves in their tent, especially after a raid.

Then there were the treasured nights when Kronos busied him self with a new toy, leaving Methos alone. They would sit by the fire, the only noise that of terrified screams from the object of Kronos's temporary affection, leaving him intensely aroused. Methos would usually be good and drunk by then, and Caspian knew what a whore he was when drunk.

Finally Caspian smiled a knowing smile at the man next to him, eyes connecting, before slowly making his way to his own tent. He didn't have to glance behind him, he knew, as he always did, that Methos had followed. That he would willingly allow any torment Caspian could imagine, and that he would love it... eventually. He always did. His body was known well to him, it was his mind that left him guessing, he was even more fucked up than himself, and that thought had always comforted him somewhat.

Then suddenly the memories were in present day. Of practicing with his sword till he was well worn out, but still wound tight. He saw Methos in the doorway watching him intently. The man was obviously drunk, body leaning up against the door way. Because of the loose and overly seductive manner in his stance he held it was very clear to Caspian. Also Methos was holding the handle of a vodka bottle that was mostly empty.

They watched one another carefully, exchanging meaningless harsh words, suddenly the bottle was thrown towards Caspians head, but Methos was drunk and he was faster, easily moving out of the way laughing somewhat. 'Oh the man had claimed hed changed, and maybe he had, but that was his mind, and the mind was insignificant.' Caspian thought.

A few more carefully venomous words and Methos was rushing at him with a dagger pulled from thin air it seemed. Caspian deflected the movement, hand closing tight on his neck, throwing him hard into the mirror that covered the walls of the fencing salon.

The feeling of Methos in his control again was unbelievably satisfying. How he pleaded to be left alone, but didn't struggle as their mouths touched one another, and Caspian bit him hard, drawing blood before Methos turned his head away from him.

Caspian chuckled picking up a shard from the shattered mirror, showing it to the man beneath him, watching as the eyes got wide and the mouth opened to protest, but stilled as he made the first cut, slicing deep into his chest. He watched as the wide eyes became nothing but pupil.

Now Methos was moaning breathlessly as the cuts continued, quickening sparks rolling over his body. Mouths meeting again, this time with unbridled passion. Eventually hands tried to push him away but Caspian captured them easily lifting them over Methos's head against the wall, pinning them by driving knives right through his hands up to the hilt flush against the wall.

Then Methos relaxed under Caspian, grinding his hips into him, and Caspian could feel the proof of his actions. He put his hands beneath their body's undoing Methos's pants, reaching in to free his hard leaking cock. Bringing him quickly to orgasm, freeing the hands from the mirror and throwing him on his hands and knees, getting behind him, between Methos's spread thighs, and thrust his cock in deep. Fucking him hard and fast as he came, so did Methos, again.

Then they collapsed to a boneless pile on the wood floor, then Caspian almost gently, removed the many glass shards embedded in Methos's skin, even massaging his hand as the quickening repaired the damage he'd inflicted.

Duncan came in to the present suddenly breathing unevenly, sitting up, pulling the covers off Methos in the process, waking him at the feeling of coldness where there had been a warm body next to him. He watched the man stretch contently before sitting up and pulling the covers back over them both.

Methos sensed something was wrong, looking over at his lover, who was tense, staring straight ahead blankly. Finally he touched his shoulder in a comforting gesture but Duncan threw off his touch, flying off the bed, and moved away from him. The still man in the bed just looked surprised and concerned. He decided to wait and let Duncan speak first, when ever he was ready, not knowing how to help him was horrible to him. When, after a bit, he still hadn't spoken... Methos finally asked what was wrong, he told him that what ever it was he would be there to help in any way he could, that he loved him.

Duncan's eyes finally met his, and he shivered at what he saw, pain, revoltion, disbelief, and anger. Duncan then began telling him about how he'd tried to assimilate Caspian's quickening, that it had refused to settle, so he'd just let the images run free.

On the bed Methos was watching quietly, wondering where this was going. 'What wouldn't settle was Caspian's memories of you', Duncan told him.

'oh'. Was the only reply he got.

'Methos did you know how much he cherished those moments with you, when Kronos would leave you alone in the camp? 'Then there was, what, 2 days ago?...'

Methos paled, wishing he could be any where but there. 'You aloud him... you enjoyed it for fucks sake!' Duncan said rather forcefully and spiteful.

Methos got up and started dressing, gathering his things around the room, put on his coat, and left with out a word. Once he'd gotten out of the door and into the elevator he broke down, tears streaming down his face, shaking, feeling the loss of the love he and Duncan had shared. Knowing with out a doubt things would never ever be the same again between them, that this would always lie there. That what Duncan had experienced he could never unexperience. He would always have those images of him. Of him and Caspian of all people. His most disturbed of his brothers by far.

Almost mechanically he hailed a cab and went home.

Duncan remained in the room staring at the door his lover had just walked out of, his mind in turmoil, trying desperately to make sense of things. He snapped out of it hearing the phone ringing, remembering he was supposed to have met up with Joe at the bar, and picked it up. Somehow he managed words of assurance, told him he would be there shortly and hung up. Dressed and ready he left the room.

He stood out side the bar just looking at it for a while before finally entering. It was still a bit before it opened, so thankfully it was empty, all but the man who'd called him there, seated in a booth towards the back.

His watcher looked worried, it wasn't like Duncan to be late for anything. Getting a look at Duncan close to him he saw a detached coldness, his muscles were tense.

'Hey wheres Methos? Hes ok isn't he?...' Joe asked. When he got no response he asked again looking scared.

'He's fine Joe.'

'Well thank goodness. Had me worried there for a min. So whats wrong, you two have a fight or something?' Joe said to him.

Duncan replied softly, 'or something', sitting down next to him, taking the offered glass of scotch, downing it in one gulp, pouring another, then another until some of the tension left his body.

'So you gonna tell me whats wrong or what?' Joe said.

'This cant go in the chronicles, or your own personal journals Joe'.

'Sure Duncan, of course, now whats wrong? Is it about Methos?' Joe said to him.

'Well you could say that...ummm... last night, or I guess early this morning, I still hadn't fallen asleep. I could feel Caspian rattling around in me as I watched Methos sleeping peacefully next to me. I ended up calming my self, allowing Caspian's memories to flow over me. And well needless to say he was a sick bastard. That I had been prepared for. What I hadn't taken in to account was his feelings towards Methos. Any moments they'd shared were treated like precious gifts, treasured above all'. Duncan stopped and filled his glass again then refilled it, finally starting to feel the wanted effects.

Joe looked confused, obviously wanting to hear what ever it was Duncan wasn't telling him.

'Caspian longed for the occurrence when Kronos would occasionally get distracted leaving Methos alone. They would hang out around the fire, drinking, listening to the screams coming from Kronos's tent. Eventually they would stop arguing with one another. Then Methos would follow Caspian into his tent, willingly. Needless to say it wasn't pretty... and I was feeling what Caspian had felt. Ok, It gets better... he'd gotten to play around with Methos, my Methos, again, and only 2 days ago... Methos may have told Caspian over and over that he'd changed, but Caspian knew, knew that Methos's body would always betray him. Sure Methos struggled briefly, halfheartedly, as Caspian started torturing him, before giving in to him, offering himself... how can my tender, annoying, bookish... almost insecure lover... how Joe? How can he have what he had with Caspian and be the person I though he was. While he can't Joe, he isn't that person at all. I was freaked out this morning, told him I'd been looking thru Caspian's memories, and he left. Thousands of years ago I could maybe understand, not really but maybe, recently? So recently? How do I reconcile that with the man I thought id known enough to let in to my life, my bed. That's something you cant fake, cant pretend, I mean its torture, and he was screaming cause he liked it, cause he wanted it it was something to do with the strength of their quickenings, they healed almost as fast as they got hurt, and to them anyways it was transmuted into a type of pleasure, the blue sparks crackling between them the more Methos body had to heal. I mean on some level I knew he would have had to have done things while he was with them, that he would have had to be convincing. I've never seen him look like that Joe, a look of transcendence, of a higher platue, of pure bliss. What do I say to him, I don't even know if I can look at him. Knowing that some where not to far below the surface lies that... I'm going back home, if you see him let me know, maybe he'll talk to you'.

Then Joe was left sitting alone in the bar, just staring into space. He had no idea what to make of this situation, had no advice to give his friends, this was way over his head, over Duncan's head even. The workings of a mind as old as Methos's he couldn't even begin to unravel.

So he focused on his work, on opening the bar, the every day tasks he could absorb him self in.