Author's note: Does Joe know what's going on between Methos and Richie? Stay tuned to see how Duncan reacts. Oh and please review and tell me what you like/ don't like, or even what you think should happen. Thanks
Methos waited outside the door, listening intently. He knew Joe was watching him, that the man had picked up on his protective behavior. The man was too good a Watcher not to have noticed, but so far Joe hadn't said anything about it. Maybe he's learned to mind his own business, Methos thought. Not bloody likely.
It had been silent in the living room for several minutes, which Methos took as his cue to interrupt. He didn't think they needed to spend too much time together this first meeting. He was surprised but pleased by the sight of Richie huddled in MacLeod's lap.
Nodding briefly to Richie, Methos stepped back out into the hallway again. "Looks like the reunion's going better than expected. I hope the good feelings last." He told Joe. Methos knew what Richie needed from MacLeod before his young lover had told him.
The ancient immortal had himself been angling for something along the same lines from the Highlander. Methos had sacrificed himself over and over for the man, but the great Duncan MacLeod hadn't seemed to care, like when Methos had gotten those files on Warren Cochrane and Mac had thrown them in the snow.
All of them, Methos, Joe, Richie, hell even Amanda, had done nothing but try to save and protect the self-righteous Scot, and more often than not MacLeod had bitched and moaned about it, because they had done things that he wouldn't have done. Well guess what Mac? They weren't him, not even Richie, and there was room in the world for all different opinions.
Methos hoped that MacLeod had really learned his lesson this time, learned not to take Richie, or any of his friends for granted. Hopefully he would give Richie more affection, more trust, more of his time. But if MacLeod hurt Richie again, no matter the reason, Methos would take his head any way he could.
With that cheerful thought, Richie emerged from the room with red eyes and tense posture. The younger immortal was silent on the trip home and Methos did not try to fill that silence. He simply waited.
From the moment they entered their apartment, Richie tried to get as close as possible to Methos, stripping off their clothes and throwing them away as he pushed his older partner into the bedroom. Methos met Richie's caresses but did not really respond, not yet. He waited.
Richie pressed the lanky form into the mattress and nipped Methos's long neck in barely restrained urgency. But this wasn't forceful in the passionate way that they sometimes played with, Richie's urgency was that of a person hoping that in orgasm there would be a release from overwhelming emotions. Not that Richie was violent. When his fingers slid deep into Methos, it was in that overly gentle way that people use when they're fighting against being too rough, like drunks trying to set their glasses down gently.
Once inside, Richie pounded into Methos, drilling the slender body into the mattress beneath them in a fruitless attempt to obliterate his frustration. Methos didn't mind, for a time, the ancient man was lost in simple sensation. Richie was considerate, his thrusts angled so that they didn't slam painfully into Methos's prostate but close enough that the ancient man saw stars behind his eyelids. A few touches of Richie's hand and Methos's orgasm was like a tidal wave crashing over him.
But when his mind cleared, Methos was unsurprised that Richie was still hard inside him. Richie leaned over Methos, holding himself up on his elbows, his heaving chest brushing Methos's tantalizingly. The redhead's face was turned away, into Methos's shoulder.
This had happened before. Every time that Richie had confessed some new torment from his past, he would try to lose himself in physical desire. But the redhead never came that way. With a word and a tilt of his head, Methos signaled Richie to sit up on his heels, lifting Methos with him so that the dark haired man was sitting in his lap. The change in angle drew a groan from both sets of lips.
Methos kissed Richie tenderly, because that's what was needed. Richie's pain couldn't be driven out with violence but it could be assuaged with tenderness. They rocked together slowly, Richie clutching the pale form that now shone with sweat while long fingers skimmed lovingly over fine features and through damp curls. When Richie came it was only with a low moan and a shudder but the smile he turned up to Methos was content.
