Obeisance
I don't own Duncan, Methos, or the concepts of Immortality, and no one at Rysher,
Panzer/Davis told me that I could play with their toys. Rated R for male/male
homoerotic sexual content, with D/s themes added in for variety. If this isn't your
thing, don't annoy me, or yourself, simply go away.
Author's Note: Many thanks to Robin Serrano for unflagging support while I was
writing this. Also, a big thank you to Suze for her invaluable advice, and wisdom
regarding fingers, etc. Duncan owes her one as well. Any and all good points
are due entirely to their support and influence; the goofs and problems belong solely
to me.
Addendum: I've put this back up on the web because Melina insisted-if you enjoy it,
you have her to thank as well. Speaking of which...thanks, Melina! I really
appreciate the lovely things you said.
Duncan stirred restlessly in his sleep; something was teasing and
twitching at him. Some noise, some unknown sensation was running
coaxing fingers along his awareness, pulling him out of his wonderful
haze. Duncan reached out for Methos' body; he wanted to snuggle back
into Methos' warmth and slide into delicious unconsciousness. Sleep-
fogged, Duncan reluctantly dragged his way towards the land of the living.
"Methos? Where'd you go?"
"What makes you think I went somewhere, Highlander?" Methos' lazy
voice reassured Duncan, a soothing caress along his senses...
Duncan made an effort to stay aware long enough to retrieve Methos; he
wanted that sleek warmth pressed tight alongside his own body.
"Come're," he grumbled, "I'm getting cold."
The silky laugh greeting Duncan's request didn't do a single thing to
soothe his rest -- but it went a long ways towards waking him up. Duncan
had known Methos for almost four-hundred years, and after all this time
he knew Methos' moods better than he knew his own. Apparently Methos
wanted to play. Sweet fire slid through Duncan's body, curling inside him,
settling low in his belly. Fingers of sensation stretched low and wound
around Duncan's cock, twining themselves to tease around his balls.
Blinking his eyes open to the seductive, sensual laughter bouncing softly
off of the walls, Duncan saw Methos sitting cross-legged on the end of
their bed, lazily smoothing a few strips of well-used, oiled leather with his
long elegant fingers. Duncan's cock tightened even further as he
considered the various possibilities, applications and implications.
"Why, MacLeod," Methos' wickedly teasing voice traced fire along his
nerves, stirring anticipation. "You look like you have a few ideas of your
own." Cocking an elegant eyebrow Methos idly murmured, "I wonder if
they match up with mine?"
Suddenly Methos was right there -- on top of him, pressing him into the
sheets. A heavy, unbelievably solid presence holding Duncan immobile.
Amazingly graceful, deceptively strong hands tightened beyond any
possibility of easy escape on his shoulders, shoving his upper body deep
into the soft bed. Methos' eyes were alive and glittering, it seemed like his
entire body was lit from within. His face shone, and his tender mouth,
which seemed to go through life begging for Duncan to claim it as his
own, was opened just a bit, his tongue extended, slipping delicately over
his lips, slicking them and making them shine.
Methos smirked annoyingly at Duncan, putting a new twist on Duncan's
lustful contemplations. "I promised you that you'd be paying for that little
stunt of yours this afternoon. But I'll bet you weren't planning on paying
up just quite yet, were you?"
Absolutely aware of what Methos was thinking, Duncan pushed up against
the restraining hands; he needed to see if Methos was as serious as he
thought he was. The fierce shove driving him immediately back into the
mattress told him all that he needed to know -- Methos was in full-out
alpha mode. And he'd be really disappointed, and more than just a little
pissed if Duncan didn't play along with his game. Not a problem, Duncan
thought, we'll just see who wins when all is said and done. Duncan
casually slid down onto the soft mattress, easing his body into seeming
acceptance.
Methos studied Duncan from behind the dusty shadows of his long lashes.
"You aren't quitting now, are you? Come on, Highlander, I'll be crushed if
you let me win this early in the game." Methos leaned over, grinning
wickedly, and determinedly attached his teeth to the line of Duncan's jaw.
"Ow!" Duncan's aggrieved complaint slid smoothly into a contented
grumble. Duncan's throat suddenly came alive; the sting of razor-sharp
nips were being followed by smooth swipes of Methos' moist tongue,
wringing sensation from Duncan's skin. The warm velvet of Methos'
tongue seemed somehow to slide over Duncan's cock, even as Methos
smoothed it over Duncan's throat. Methos' mouth was a hot and lively
thing, tracing the muscular line of Duncan's throat, demanding and
needy, pulling warmth, blood, and lust to the surface.
Duncan surged out of his passivity, obeying the sudden imperative that
demanded that he wrench himself free -- force Methos to submit to the
needs of his hungry mouth. Methos followed him easily, tracking Duncan
with soft chuckles against the moist skin of his throat. Grinning, Methos
stepped up his assault, nipping harder, and sucking more deeply, a deep
growl escaping when Duncan slid out of reach for a moment.
Duncan forced calm onto his anxious body, biding his time. Methos
hooked an ankle around Duncan's calf, pushing his muscular leg between
Duncan's sweaty thighs. Duncan shivered. Methos shoved Duncan's legs
apart, rubbing softly against him, never moving his mouth from its damp
explorations of Duncan's neck. Licking carefully, over and over, on the
throbbing pulse point, Methos scraped reddened skin off with his teeth,
then soothed the newly raw area with the moist slickness of his tongue.
Feeling another delicate shiver of sensation sliding through his body,
Duncan pushed his trembling body up into Methos, knowing there was no
way that he could avoid feeling the blazing heat of the throbbing steel sex
pressed tightly against his own.
Moving his mouth from Duncan's throat, Methos groaned deeply in his
chest, helplessly in his reaction to the delightful sensation. Immediately
recognizing his opportunity, Duncan struck. He reversed the leg-lock in a
heart-beat, doing his best to use the momentum he'd gained, along with
his greater weight and mass to flip Methos over and pin the heaving wet
body underneath him.
The following struggle didn't appear to be easy, punctuated as it was with
bitten off curses and low grunts of effort, and it certainly wasn't over
quickly, but Methos retained his position of supremacy; millennia of
instinctual reflexes, of times when he'd subdued other struggling bodies,
came to his rescue and allowed him to remain in control. Methos drove
Duncan's twisting body right back, deep into the warm bed he'd just tried
to vacate. Undiscouraged and undeterred, Duncan smiled dangerously
when he saw and felt the effect of the contrary irritated noise that slid its
way up and out of his throat.
So far, so good.
Duncan squirmed restlessly on the mattress, his mind flashing with
anticipation (and a really annoying measure of concern), over the details
of his intended role in Methos' little wake-up scenario. Glancing up, his
mind busily plotting his counter to Methos' next move, Duncan found his
gaze captured instantly and held fast by the passionate intensity sparkling
in Methos' eyes. An immediate thrill of purely anticipatory desire raced
throughout Duncan's body, tightening his cock even further, tingling in
his balls, tracing soft, liquid fire deep in his belly. Groaning, Duncan sank
back into the cool mattress, swallowing convulsively and determined to
give Methos what he wanted.
What they both wanted apparently.
All personal worries and desires aside (and how could they possibly be
one and the same?), there was no way that Duncan could simply lie there
and give in. He had been the responsible one for both of them for
seemingly forever, Duncan wasn't at all sure that he could let that role go
now-- even for a moment. On the other hand, someplace deep within
Duncan yearned for Methos to take over, to assume the responsibilities
that Duncan had been so weighed down with over the past year. Duncan
exhaled on a gusty sigh and relaxed again in Methos' firm grip; hopefully
together he and Methos could find a way to satisfy all of their varied
yearnings.
Duncan knew as well that his seeming capitulation pleased, amused, and
aroused Methos, and he also knew that Methos didn't trust his surrender
for a minute. Oh well, that was going to be half the fun. If Methos wanted
a hard, dominant fuck then Duncan would do his best to see that that was
just what Methos got. And any ridiculous worries -- well...fears, if Duncan
was going to be honest with himself, would be dismissed out of hand.
Methos needed him, badly: therefore, Duncan was going to do his
damnedest not to let him down.
With Duncan's cock throbbing in counterpoint to their rapidly quickening
breaths, he remembered all the days, nights, and years -- all of the
centuries, that he and Methos had spent devoted to the single-minded
goal of learning all there was to know about fulfilling the other's deepest
cravings and desires. Understanding Methos' passion and needs and wants
as he did, Duncan understood that this went far, far beyond Methos
simply wanting to be on top during this encounter. Methos desperately
needed -- craved really, the chance to exercise the control that had been
so obviously absent from his life of late.
The effects of the temporal displacement wave had ripped all of Methos'
choices from him, rendered him helpless in a way that Methos had
thought was behind him forever. Duncan couldn't remove the scars of
Methos' past, but he could offer himself willingly and freely and hope that
the gift of his body might numb some of the lingering pain.
His spirit was more than willing, and his body certainly seemed brazenly
enthusiastic, if his throbbing erection was any indication -- if a bit hesitant
about being restrained to the degree Duncan thought that Methos would
probably demand of him. Duncan tossed his head in annoyance, and
commanded that his doubts and worries stop this instant. Methos needed
something only Duncan could give; so it was up to him to ensure Methos'
needs were satisfied. All of them.
Leaning hard on Duncan's hands, Methos pressed them further down into
the soft mattress. Using that point of contact as a brace to support
himself, Methos maneuvered further up the bed until he was straddling
Duncan's chest. Once there he sat back on his heels, satisfied for the
moment. Pressing inward Methos used the power in his muscular thighs to
help secure Duncan's obedience. Watching Duncan warily, Methos reached
back, quickly snagging his restraints, managing to somehow keep his
position when Duncan suddenly surged to life beneath him, exploding into
a hard bundle of determined energy.
"I'm not that easy, MacLeod." Methos' smile became even more self-
satisfied if possible. He resettled himself over Duncan's chest, pressing his
thighs even tighter, his Cheshire cat grin showing just how pleased he
was with himself for having successfully ridden out Duncan's brief but
volatile surge.
Fine. Duncan glared at Methos through narrowed eyes, conceding the
moment. For the moment. However the stubborn look Duncan aimed at
his annoying lover was intended to make it perfectly clear that he hadn't
given up yet. For a multitude of reasons, he didn't dare. In this mood,
God alone knew what Methos would do to him if he failed to offer up the
expected performance.
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, considering his situation. The throbbing
arousal surging through his body demanded attention now. His desire to
please and be possessed by Methos was almost overwhelming as well.
Also, there was his warriors voice, nattering on in the back of his mind.
Quietly, but firmly, it was demanding to know just what in the hell he
thought he was doing allowing himself to be trussed up like a sheep about
to be slaughtered, on a starship full of Immortals, no less. Even if they
were all his friends.
Glowering at Methos from beneath narrowed eyes Duncan grumbled
under his breath, even as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of
Methos' nimble fingers as they expertly wound the leather straps around
his wrists. Methos stretched Duncan's arms over his head, crossing his
wrists and binding them together. Methos took care that the restraints
would be snug, but not so tight that they would become painful. Just taut
enough to keep Duncan securely bound without causing him unnecessary
pain.
Considering just how to trap Methos in the circle of his arms, Duncan
jerked, then groaned deep in his chest, the feeling starting from
somewhere low in his belly when Methos leaned over him, a heavy,
molten weight on his chest. Methos' body was all damp silk sliding over
hot steel and very, very enticing. Methos' erection was poking Duncan in
the belly, glancing up against his own throbbing heat from time to time,
and Duncan was becoming quite sure that he wasn't going to be able to
maintain any pretense at presence of mind for much longer. While
Duncan panted quietly, thoughts of what to do next skittering around in
his over-heated brain, Methos snagged another tie, this one already
attached to the framework of their bed.
Smirking annoyingly at Duncan, his grin stretching even further over his
face when Duncan decided to growl in frustration at him, Methos tied
Duncan's wrists to the bed, snugging them down firmly. Methos tugged
upwards on Duncan's bound wrists once or twice, making sure, testing his
work.
Finding everything to his satisfaction Methos released Duncan's arms
altogether and moved back a bit, coming to rest over Duncan's hips.
Apparently oblivious to the pressure and heat of Duncan's rigid sex poking
him in the butt, Methos leaned forward. Knotting his fingers in Duncan's
hair he used the thick silk to tug Duncan's mouth up to his. Methos
assaulted Duncan with deep, open-mouthed kisses and soft, licking tastes
for a long dizzy time. Methos held on tightly, not uncurling his fingers
from Duncan's hair until after he'd rendered Duncan breathless and
witless. Finally Methos pulled away and sat up, gilt eyes full of arousal
staring enchantedly at Duncan's wet mouth.
Slowly, deliberately sliding his tongue over his hot, swollen lips, Duncan
savored Methos' ancient, spicy flavor. Smiling at Methos' pained look,
Duncan considered his small victory. He knew full well the addiction
Methos had for his mouth. For as long as Duncan could remember, Methos
had obsessed over his lips and his mouth. Quite useful knowledge that
Duncan had never once hesitated to turn to his advantage.
As smitten as always Methos lowered a hand, carefully stroking his fingers
over the moistness, dragging his nails around the edges. Duncan felt a
finger pressing against his lips, seeking entry, and he opened obediently,
drawing it in, curling his tongue around it, sucking gently.
Methos' head fell back, his eyes sliding shut, a breathy, shuddery moan
fighting its way free from somewhere deep within him. He brought his
free hand up and began lazily playing with the loose strands of Duncan's
hair. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now, Duncan." Methos informed him
quietly, almost reverently.
Shivering with anticipation, Duncan raptly watched Methos crawl up over
his body as he heaved and struggled against his restraints. Straddling his
chest, leaning down over him, Methos pressed the head of his flushed
cock against Duncan's lips; Duncan slipped his tongue out, licking all
around the swollen crown, thrusting his pointed tongue as deeply as
possible into the sensitive opening.
Duncan writhed harder, longing for control, for the use of his hands. He
desperately wanted to grab Methos' ass and shove that white-hot steel
and silk hardness deep into his eager mouth. He craved losing himself to
the mindless pleasure of Methos sliding in and out, sinking ever deeper
into his throat. But Duncan was unable to do that; he was being forced to
just lie there and take only as much as Methos was willing to give him,
helpless to do more as Methos slid his wet, enticing cockhead around his
lips. Methos permitted him teasing tastes, but no more. His thoroughly
aggravating lover invariably pulled back before Duncan could get down to
serious business.
Suddenly annoyed beyond bearing, Duncan snarled; he raised his head up
as far as he was able, reaching...straining--he had to get his mouth
around that slick, salty heat or die in the attempt.
Methos grinned at his frustrated actions and sat even further back on his
heels, tormenting Duncan even more. "You're such a slut; you know that,
MacLeod?" Methos' voice was low and lust warmed, affectionate and
depraved all at once. "I think I'll tie you up like this and fuck you stupid a
lot more often."
Such delicious cruelty. Duncan yanked as hard as he could on his
bindings. Surely if he made up his mind, determined to win free, he could
break loose? Of course he could. And then, well then Methos would think
twice before trying this ill-considered trick again. Duncan MacLeod would
teach his wanton, arrogant lover a few lessons about just what true
possession entailed. Beginning right now.
Duncan turned his head until he was able to capture Methos' eyes,
holding them locked in an intimate, demanding contact. Duncan had
every intention of beginning his gleeful gloating, his chest swelling with
the pride of his accomplishment.
Shit.
Duncan felt like kicking himself. Of course he should have realized that
Methos was already aware of every thought passing through his lust-
addled brain. Duncan himself could usually read Methos' plans and actions
like a book; he surely ought to expect that Methos could do the same for
him. Obviously they were each able to keep certain secrets, but in these
more intimate moments, when both men let their guards down -- well, then
it was especially difficult to hide something from the other. Especially
something that one of them wanted as badly as Duncan wanted Methos
right at this moment. Which didn't mean that Duncan had to be happy
about Methos' knowledge though...
The amused, confident cast of Methos' features acted as a trigger, jacking
up Duncan's ire even further. Methos' calm confidence solidified Duncan's
roller coaster emotional state, turning all the passion and lust and fury
coursing through his body into complex anger and he wasted a few
additional moments expressing his displeasure, straining for all he was
worth, ultimately uselessly against his bindings.
Obviously intrigued, Methos studied Duncan's thrashings for a bit, before
tightly grabbing Duncan's upper arms. Forcefully, he drove him back.
"Enough, MacLeod," Methos said. "Enough. Now open up. As fascinating it
is to watch you pretend you don't love losing control, I'm ready for your
mouth. And I'm not in the mood to be kept waiting."
Furious, Duncan clenched his jaw tightly shut. How dare Methos say those
things to him - order him about like that? If he could just get free
he'd -- grab Methos' ass and shove Methos' dick straight down his throat
himself. Duncan flushed, remembering the reason he'd begun fighting for
his freedom in the first place. Damn Methos all the way to hell and back
anyway.
Grudgingly acknowledging the undeniable lust that was overwhelming
him, but still aggravated with the over-all situation, Duncan squirmed
restlessly in his bindings. Obviously as long as he'd been with Methos
they'd played almost every possible game, sexual or otherwise, and with
all manner of accessories; but never with seven other Immortals within
hailing...or beheading distance, dammit!
There was something -- distinctly unsettling about being rendered so
vulnerable and yet feeling so desperate and needy under these
conditions. Duncan ground his teeth together a few moments longer, then
sighed and gave it up. Sliding his eyes closed, he sighed, acquiescing
when Methos pressed insistently on his lips, graceful fingers demanding
access. Abandoning himself to his fate, Duncan opened his lips and
welcomed Methos in.
Methos slid two fingers in sideways and separated them a bit. "Wider,
MacLeod," Methos scolded. "Come on, open up." The look on his face when
Duncan did as he asked was its own reward. "Hold that thought,
MacLeod," Methos murmured, pulling his fingers out and slipping himself
in. Moving closer, Methos pushed deeply into Duncan, gliding forward, not
stopping until his pelvic bone bumped up against Duncan's nose. "Ummm,
just perfect," he purred, satisfaction resonating through his voice. "Don't
move, Highlander," he commanded, gripping Duncan's sweaty face tightly
in his strong hands. "I'll do all the work; you just lay there and be a good
little whore."
Despite the harsh sounding words, Methos' pleasure and desire and
obvious affection were evident in the velvet-soft caress of his voice. And if
that wasn't enough, all Duncan had to do was to look at the blissful
adoration shining on Methos' face. Methos' pale skin and lips were
flushed, glowing with desire. His gilded green eyes gleamed with lust,
desire and love.
Methos fit his fingers firmly around Duncan's face and neck, finding a
comfortable and secure place to hold Duncan's head still. Once he was
satisfied with his grip Methos began thrusting in and out, his eyes focused
unswervingly on the sight of his ruddy, tumid erection, watching himself
sliding in and out of Duncan's wet lips; he cocked his head, listening,
apparently fascinated by the lovely liquid noises.
"Oh, God, so hot...fuck, MacLeod - you feel so...good." Methos gasped and
groaned his pleasure as he pressed in and out of the slick, hot mouth and
throat that welcomed his eager thrusts. Almost lying on top of Duncan,
Methos flexed in and out, shoving deeper รท and even deeper with each
increasingly desperate push.
Duncan's eyes drifted slowly shut, and he allowed his mind to drift free.
He let himself hear the small grunts and louder moans that Methos
couldn't seem to hold back. He drew air in deeply through his nostrils,
staving off suffocation and savoring the deep musky scent of Methos'
passion. He swallowed the bitter-sweet, salty tang filling his mouth and he
filled his sight with Methos, lost in passion and arousal. Duncan focused
his hungry gaze on the place where Methos drove himself to meet him,
pushing them together until any separation was lost, until they seemed to
merge in Duncan's tear-damped sight, truly becoming one flesh.
Methos shoved into his mouth for what seemed to Duncan to be a very
long time - then abruptly, he withdrew, leaving Duncan gasping for air,
and feeling as bereft as if he'd suddenly lost his shadow. Duncan strained
up again, reaching, seeking for the solid reality that had been so rudely
taken from him, but Methos would have none of it.
Methos sat back on his heels, bracing his hands on his thighs, sucking in
oxygen, panting while he tried to regain some measure of his equilibrium.
"I want more than your mouth, Duncan, sweet as it is. And now you're
going to spread your legs and give it to me, aren't you?" Methos gasped
out, some of the intended abruptness lost to his desperate gulps for air.
Duncan, long since abandoned to his desire to have Methos buried deeply
in him, in his ass if he couldn't have him sheltered in his mouth, simply
nodded his agreement, unable and unwilling to offer any resistance.
Capturing Methos' gaze, Duncan drew his legs up so that his feet were flat
on the bed. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of Methos'
fascinated look, Duncan slid his feet up towards his body, separating his
thighs as he went, offering Methos the clearest possible view. Duncan
flexed his back and arched his hips towards Methos. "This what you had in
mind, humm?" Duncan asked quietly. At Methos' nod, Duncan said, "Come
take me then."
Methos shook his head, as if to clear it, then slid down to kneel between
Duncan's legs. Grasping a trembling thigh in each hand, he pressed
Duncan's legs as far apart as possible, lowering his head to nip and lick
along the area where Duncan's hips joined onto his body. Duncan
shivered in anticipation as Methos ran his hot tongue along the seam of
his thigh and hip, nudging his balls carelessly out of his way with his
nose.
Duncan groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, arching his hips
even higher, offering himself to Methos. The liquid fire of Methos' lips and
tongue sliding over his tender flesh felt so good, so right. Methos' tongue
pushed its way into him, setting his nerve endings alight, igniting a
craving for penetration of another sort. But not just yet. Duncan wasn't
ready to lose the gentle suction of Methos' mouth, the playful nips from
his teeth, and the - oh dear God, the wet thrusts of Methos' tongue.
Too soon, Methos pulled his head away. He smiled at Duncan and raised
his hand, brushing the back of his fingers in a soothing caress over
Duncan's cheek. Pushing Duncan's hair away from his eyes, Methos
soothed, "Just a minute, we're almost there." Reaching for the lube
Methos slicked himself, then slid his fingers into Duncan, smoothing the
slippery substance into him. Methos grinned, then nudged his fingers
against that part of Duncan's body that made him groan aloud, arching his
entire body up off the mattress.
"Oh, God, Methos," Duncan moaned. "Please."
"Please, what, Duncan?" Methos smirked; looking far too pleased with
himself, he pushed against that place again, and then again. "Is this what
you want?" Not waiting for a coherent answer, Methos spread Duncan's
legs further apart and with one stroke, shoved himself all the way into
Duncan's desperate body.
Duncan sucked in a shocked breath. Methos' heat seemed to fill his entire
body; it radiated out from his ass to warm him everywhere. Methos
paused for only the briefest of moments, then he was riding him hard,
pistoning in and out, his pace increasing with each stroke. The edges of
Duncan's vision started to go dark and blurry, the shocks of pleasure
rocketing through him at an unbearable rate. Methos had him angled so
that each thrust hit up against the place in him that sent glittering
sparkles of wanton pleasure and carnal feeling shooting through his entire
body.
Duncan forced his eyes open, drinking in the vision of Methos lost to their
pleasure. Somehow, Methos had never appeared more beautiful to
Duncan than he did in this singular focused moment of need, desire, and
possession. Duncan's throat tightened as he stared, entranced, at the
precious lover he'd thought lost to him forever. He needed more, had to
have more; he wanted to melt into Methos and never be parted again.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face because Methos
slid a hand off of his thigh, wrapping it around the focus of Duncan's
throbbing, aching desire. Methos squeezed Duncan hard, and his eyes
rolled shut. He forced them open again, desperate with his need to see
Methos, to reassure himself that Methos was the one making love to him -
pouring himself into him until their separate identities were lost forever.
Consumed by the fire, he lost himself, lost his mind, his identity and his
separateness to Methos. Gave them all over freely and willingly.
The world tilted and blurred, then darkened and faded toward the light at
the center of his vision; there was nothing left but Methos. Nothing but
this one eternal moment, this one perfect instant of fulfillment, this one
love. Duncan sank into the vital essence, the necessity of his connection
with Methos.
Releasing, freely giving everything, Duncan surrendered all that he was,
offered all he had ever been, promised all that he ever would be, and laid
it at Methos' feet.
Duncan craved the ability to tell Methos - share his feelings with words,
but he was almost unconscious. So he reminded himself that they had
forever -- again, and settled for wrapping his newly released arms around
Methos as tightly as possible. Snuggling into the protection of
Methos' strong body, Duncan tucked his head in tight under Methos' chin,
and sighed in total contentment. Duncan allowed himself to drown in the
blissful, incomparable feeling of a warm, totally sated, drowsy Methos as
he gradually relaxed on his chest. Drifting away, the heartbeat and
presence of the love of his life soothed and grounded him, holding him
safely through the night.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
finis
I don't own Duncan, Methos, or the concepts of Immortality, and no one at Rysher,
Panzer/Davis told me that I could play with their toys. Rated R for male/male
homoerotic sexual content, with D/s themes added in for variety. If this isn't your
thing, don't annoy me, or yourself, simply go away.
Author's Note: Many thanks to Robin Serrano for unflagging support while I was
writing this. Also, a big thank you to Suze for her invaluable advice, and wisdom
regarding fingers, etc. Duncan owes her one as well. Any and all good points
are due entirely to their support and influence; the goofs and problems belong solely
to me.
Addendum: I've put this back up on the web because Melina insisted-if you enjoy it,
you have her to thank as well. Speaking of which...thanks, Melina! I really
appreciate the lovely things you said.
Duncan stirred restlessly in his sleep; something was teasing and
twitching at him. Some noise, some unknown sensation was running
coaxing fingers along his awareness, pulling him out of his wonderful
haze. Duncan reached out for Methos' body; he wanted to snuggle back
into Methos' warmth and slide into delicious unconsciousness. Sleep-
fogged, Duncan reluctantly dragged his way towards the land of the living.
"Methos? Where'd you go?"
"What makes you think I went somewhere, Highlander?" Methos' lazy
voice reassured Duncan, a soothing caress along his senses...
Duncan made an effort to stay aware long enough to retrieve Methos; he
wanted that sleek warmth pressed tight alongside his own body.
"Come're," he grumbled, "I'm getting cold."
The silky laugh greeting Duncan's request didn't do a single thing to
soothe his rest -- but it went a long ways towards waking him up. Duncan
had known Methos for almost four-hundred years, and after all this time
he knew Methos' moods better than he knew his own. Apparently Methos
wanted to play. Sweet fire slid through Duncan's body, curling inside him,
settling low in his belly. Fingers of sensation stretched low and wound
around Duncan's cock, twining themselves to tease around his balls.
Blinking his eyes open to the seductive, sensual laughter bouncing softly
off of the walls, Duncan saw Methos sitting cross-legged on the end of
their bed, lazily smoothing a few strips of well-used, oiled leather with his
long elegant fingers. Duncan's cock tightened even further as he
considered the various possibilities, applications and implications.
"Why, MacLeod," Methos' wickedly teasing voice traced fire along his
nerves, stirring anticipation. "You look like you have a few ideas of your
own." Cocking an elegant eyebrow Methos idly murmured, "I wonder if
they match up with mine?"
Suddenly Methos was right there -- on top of him, pressing him into the
sheets. A heavy, unbelievably solid presence holding Duncan immobile.
Amazingly graceful, deceptively strong hands tightened beyond any
possibility of easy escape on his shoulders, shoving his upper body deep
into the soft bed. Methos' eyes were alive and glittering, it seemed like his
entire body was lit from within. His face shone, and his tender mouth,
which seemed to go through life begging for Duncan to claim it as his
own, was opened just a bit, his tongue extended, slipping delicately over
his lips, slicking them and making them shine.
Methos smirked annoyingly at Duncan, putting a new twist on Duncan's
lustful contemplations. "I promised you that you'd be paying for that little
stunt of yours this afternoon. But I'll bet you weren't planning on paying
up just quite yet, were you?"
Absolutely aware of what Methos was thinking, Duncan pushed up against
the restraining hands; he needed to see if Methos was as serious as he
thought he was. The fierce shove driving him immediately back into the
mattress told him all that he needed to know -- Methos was in full-out
alpha mode. And he'd be really disappointed, and more than just a little
pissed if Duncan didn't play along with his game. Not a problem, Duncan
thought, we'll just see who wins when all is said and done. Duncan
casually slid down onto the soft mattress, easing his body into seeming
acceptance.
Methos studied Duncan from behind the dusty shadows of his long lashes.
"You aren't quitting now, are you? Come on, Highlander, I'll be crushed if
you let me win this early in the game." Methos leaned over, grinning
wickedly, and determinedly attached his teeth to the line of Duncan's jaw.
"Ow!" Duncan's aggrieved complaint slid smoothly into a contented
grumble. Duncan's throat suddenly came alive; the sting of razor-sharp
nips were being followed by smooth swipes of Methos' moist tongue,
wringing sensation from Duncan's skin. The warm velvet of Methos'
tongue seemed somehow to slide over Duncan's cock, even as Methos
smoothed it over Duncan's throat. Methos' mouth was a hot and lively
thing, tracing the muscular line of Duncan's throat, demanding and
needy, pulling warmth, blood, and lust to the surface.
Duncan surged out of his passivity, obeying the sudden imperative that
demanded that he wrench himself free -- force Methos to submit to the
needs of his hungry mouth. Methos followed him easily, tracking Duncan
with soft chuckles against the moist skin of his throat. Grinning, Methos
stepped up his assault, nipping harder, and sucking more deeply, a deep
growl escaping when Duncan slid out of reach for a moment.
Duncan forced calm onto his anxious body, biding his time. Methos
hooked an ankle around Duncan's calf, pushing his muscular leg between
Duncan's sweaty thighs. Duncan shivered. Methos shoved Duncan's legs
apart, rubbing softly against him, never moving his mouth from its damp
explorations of Duncan's neck. Licking carefully, over and over, on the
throbbing pulse point, Methos scraped reddened skin off with his teeth,
then soothed the newly raw area with the moist slickness of his tongue.
Feeling another delicate shiver of sensation sliding through his body,
Duncan pushed his trembling body up into Methos, knowing there was no
way that he could avoid feeling the blazing heat of the throbbing steel sex
pressed tightly against his own.
Moving his mouth from Duncan's throat, Methos groaned deeply in his
chest, helplessly in his reaction to the delightful sensation. Immediately
recognizing his opportunity, Duncan struck. He reversed the leg-lock in a
heart-beat, doing his best to use the momentum he'd gained, along with
his greater weight and mass to flip Methos over and pin the heaving wet
body underneath him.
The following struggle didn't appear to be easy, punctuated as it was with
bitten off curses and low grunts of effort, and it certainly wasn't over
quickly, but Methos retained his position of supremacy; millennia of
instinctual reflexes, of times when he'd subdued other struggling bodies,
came to his rescue and allowed him to remain in control. Methos drove
Duncan's twisting body right back, deep into the warm bed he'd just tried
to vacate. Undiscouraged and undeterred, Duncan smiled dangerously
when he saw and felt the effect of the contrary irritated noise that slid its
way up and out of his throat.
So far, so good.
Duncan squirmed restlessly on the mattress, his mind flashing with
anticipation (and a really annoying measure of concern), over the details
of his intended role in Methos' little wake-up scenario. Glancing up, his
mind busily plotting his counter to Methos' next move, Duncan found his
gaze captured instantly and held fast by the passionate intensity sparkling
in Methos' eyes. An immediate thrill of purely anticipatory desire raced
throughout Duncan's body, tightening his cock even further, tingling in
his balls, tracing soft, liquid fire deep in his belly. Groaning, Duncan sank
back into the cool mattress, swallowing convulsively and determined to
give Methos what he wanted.
What they both wanted apparently.
All personal worries and desires aside (and how could they possibly be
one and the same?), there was no way that Duncan could simply lie there
and give in. He had been the responsible one for both of them for
seemingly forever, Duncan wasn't at all sure that he could let that role go
now-- even for a moment. On the other hand, someplace deep within
Duncan yearned for Methos to take over, to assume the responsibilities
that Duncan had been so weighed down with over the past year. Duncan
exhaled on a gusty sigh and relaxed again in Methos' firm grip; hopefully
together he and Methos could find a way to satisfy all of their varied
yearnings.
Duncan knew as well that his seeming capitulation pleased, amused, and
aroused Methos, and he also knew that Methos didn't trust his surrender
for a minute. Oh well, that was going to be half the fun. If Methos wanted
a hard, dominant fuck then Duncan would do his best to see that that was
just what Methos got. And any ridiculous worries -- well...fears, if Duncan
was going to be honest with himself, would be dismissed out of hand.
Methos needed him, badly: therefore, Duncan was going to do his
damnedest not to let him down.
With Duncan's cock throbbing in counterpoint to their rapidly quickening
breaths, he remembered all the days, nights, and years -- all of the
centuries, that he and Methos had spent devoted to the single-minded
goal of learning all there was to know about fulfilling the other's deepest
cravings and desires. Understanding Methos' passion and needs and wants
as he did, Duncan understood that this went far, far beyond Methos
simply wanting to be on top during this encounter. Methos desperately
needed -- craved really, the chance to exercise the control that had been
so obviously absent from his life of late.
The effects of the temporal displacement wave had ripped all of Methos'
choices from him, rendered him helpless in a way that Methos had
thought was behind him forever. Duncan couldn't remove the scars of
Methos' past, but he could offer himself willingly and freely and hope that
the gift of his body might numb some of the lingering pain.
His spirit was more than willing, and his body certainly seemed brazenly
enthusiastic, if his throbbing erection was any indication -- if a bit hesitant
about being restrained to the degree Duncan thought that Methos would
probably demand of him. Duncan tossed his head in annoyance, and
commanded that his doubts and worries stop this instant. Methos needed
something only Duncan could give; so it was up to him to ensure Methos'
needs were satisfied. All of them.
Leaning hard on Duncan's hands, Methos pressed them further down into
the soft mattress. Using that point of contact as a brace to support
himself, Methos maneuvered further up the bed until he was straddling
Duncan's chest. Once there he sat back on his heels, satisfied for the
moment. Pressing inward Methos used the power in his muscular thighs to
help secure Duncan's obedience. Watching Duncan warily, Methos reached
back, quickly snagging his restraints, managing to somehow keep his
position when Duncan suddenly surged to life beneath him, exploding into
a hard bundle of determined energy.
"I'm not that easy, MacLeod." Methos' smile became even more self-
satisfied if possible. He resettled himself over Duncan's chest, pressing his
thighs even tighter, his Cheshire cat grin showing just how pleased he
was with himself for having successfully ridden out Duncan's brief but
volatile surge.
Fine. Duncan glared at Methos through narrowed eyes, conceding the
moment. For the moment. However the stubborn look Duncan aimed at
his annoying lover was intended to make it perfectly clear that he hadn't
given up yet. For a multitude of reasons, he didn't dare. In this mood,
God alone knew what Methos would do to him if he failed to offer up the
expected performance.
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, considering his situation. The throbbing
arousal surging through his body demanded attention now. His desire to
please and be possessed by Methos was almost overwhelming as well.
Also, there was his warriors voice, nattering on in the back of his mind.
Quietly, but firmly, it was demanding to know just what in the hell he
thought he was doing allowing himself to be trussed up like a sheep about
to be slaughtered, on a starship full of Immortals, no less. Even if they
were all his friends.
Glowering at Methos from beneath narrowed eyes Duncan grumbled
under his breath, even as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of
Methos' nimble fingers as they expertly wound the leather straps around
his wrists. Methos stretched Duncan's arms over his head, crossing his
wrists and binding them together. Methos took care that the restraints
would be snug, but not so tight that they would become painful. Just taut
enough to keep Duncan securely bound without causing him unnecessary
pain.
Considering just how to trap Methos in the circle of his arms, Duncan
jerked, then groaned deep in his chest, the feeling starting from
somewhere low in his belly when Methos leaned over him, a heavy,
molten weight on his chest. Methos' body was all damp silk sliding over
hot steel and very, very enticing. Methos' erection was poking Duncan in
the belly, glancing up against his own throbbing heat from time to time,
and Duncan was becoming quite sure that he wasn't going to be able to
maintain any pretense at presence of mind for much longer. While
Duncan panted quietly, thoughts of what to do next skittering around in
his over-heated brain, Methos snagged another tie, this one already
attached to the framework of their bed.
Smirking annoyingly at Duncan, his grin stretching even further over his
face when Duncan decided to growl in frustration at him, Methos tied
Duncan's wrists to the bed, snugging them down firmly. Methos tugged
upwards on Duncan's bound wrists once or twice, making sure, testing his
work.
Finding everything to his satisfaction Methos released Duncan's arms
altogether and moved back a bit, coming to rest over Duncan's hips.
Apparently oblivious to the pressure and heat of Duncan's rigid sex poking
him in the butt, Methos leaned forward. Knotting his fingers in Duncan's
hair he used the thick silk to tug Duncan's mouth up to his. Methos
assaulted Duncan with deep, open-mouthed kisses and soft, licking tastes
for a long dizzy time. Methos held on tightly, not uncurling his fingers
from Duncan's hair until after he'd rendered Duncan breathless and
witless. Finally Methos pulled away and sat up, gilt eyes full of arousal
staring enchantedly at Duncan's wet mouth.
Slowly, deliberately sliding his tongue over his hot, swollen lips, Duncan
savored Methos' ancient, spicy flavor. Smiling at Methos' pained look,
Duncan considered his small victory. He knew full well the addiction
Methos had for his mouth. For as long as Duncan could remember, Methos
had obsessed over his lips and his mouth. Quite useful knowledge that
Duncan had never once hesitated to turn to his advantage.
As smitten as always Methos lowered a hand, carefully stroking his fingers
over the moistness, dragging his nails around the edges. Duncan felt a
finger pressing against his lips, seeking entry, and he opened obediently,
drawing it in, curling his tongue around it, sucking gently.
Methos' head fell back, his eyes sliding shut, a breathy, shuddery moan
fighting its way free from somewhere deep within him. He brought his
free hand up and began lazily playing with the loose strands of Duncan's
hair. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now, Duncan." Methos informed him
quietly, almost reverently.
Shivering with anticipation, Duncan raptly watched Methos crawl up over
his body as he heaved and struggled against his restraints. Straddling his
chest, leaning down over him, Methos pressed the head of his flushed
cock against Duncan's lips; Duncan slipped his tongue out, licking all
around the swollen crown, thrusting his pointed tongue as deeply as
possible into the sensitive opening.
Duncan writhed harder, longing for control, for the use of his hands. He
desperately wanted to grab Methos' ass and shove that white-hot steel
and silk hardness deep into his eager mouth. He craved losing himself to
the mindless pleasure of Methos sliding in and out, sinking ever deeper
into his throat. But Duncan was unable to do that; he was being forced to
just lie there and take only as much as Methos was willing to give him,
helpless to do more as Methos slid his wet, enticing cockhead around his
lips. Methos permitted him teasing tastes, but no more. His thoroughly
aggravating lover invariably pulled back before Duncan could get down to
serious business.
Suddenly annoyed beyond bearing, Duncan snarled; he raised his head up
as far as he was able, reaching...straining--he had to get his mouth
around that slick, salty heat or die in the attempt.
Methos grinned at his frustrated actions and sat even further back on his
heels, tormenting Duncan even more. "You're such a slut; you know that,
MacLeod?" Methos' voice was low and lust warmed, affectionate and
depraved all at once. "I think I'll tie you up like this and fuck you stupid a
lot more often."
Such delicious cruelty. Duncan yanked as hard as he could on his
bindings. Surely if he made up his mind, determined to win free, he could
break loose? Of course he could. And then, well then Methos would think
twice before trying this ill-considered trick again. Duncan MacLeod would
teach his wanton, arrogant lover a few lessons about just what true
possession entailed. Beginning right now.
Duncan turned his head until he was able to capture Methos' eyes,
holding them locked in an intimate, demanding contact. Duncan had
every intention of beginning his gleeful gloating, his chest swelling with
the pride of his accomplishment.
Shit.
Duncan felt like kicking himself. Of course he should have realized that
Methos was already aware of every thought passing through his lust-
addled brain. Duncan himself could usually read Methos' plans and actions
like a book; he surely ought to expect that Methos could do the same for
him. Obviously they were each able to keep certain secrets, but in these
more intimate moments, when both men let their guards down -- well, then
it was especially difficult to hide something from the other. Especially
something that one of them wanted as badly as Duncan wanted Methos
right at this moment. Which didn't mean that Duncan had to be happy
about Methos' knowledge though...
The amused, confident cast of Methos' features acted as a trigger, jacking
up Duncan's ire even further. Methos' calm confidence solidified Duncan's
roller coaster emotional state, turning all the passion and lust and fury
coursing through his body into complex anger and he wasted a few
additional moments expressing his displeasure, straining for all he was
worth, ultimately uselessly against his bindings.
Obviously intrigued, Methos studied Duncan's thrashings for a bit, before
tightly grabbing Duncan's upper arms. Forcefully, he drove him back.
"Enough, MacLeod," Methos said. "Enough. Now open up. As fascinating it
is to watch you pretend you don't love losing control, I'm ready for your
mouth. And I'm not in the mood to be kept waiting."
Furious, Duncan clenched his jaw tightly shut. How dare Methos say those
things to him - order him about like that? If he could just get free
he'd -- grab Methos' ass and shove Methos' dick straight down his throat
himself. Duncan flushed, remembering the reason he'd begun fighting for
his freedom in the first place. Damn Methos all the way to hell and back
anyway.
Grudgingly acknowledging the undeniable lust that was overwhelming
him, but still aggravated with the over-all situation, Duncan squirmed
restlessly in his bindings. Obviously as long as he'd been with Methos
they'd played almost every possible game, sexual or otherwise, and with
all manner of accessories; but never with seven other Immortals within
hailing...or beheading distance, dammit!
There was something -- distinctly unsettling about being rendered so
vulnerable and yet feeling so desperate and needy under these
conditions. Duncan ground his teeth together a few moments longer, then
sighed and gave it up. Sliding his eyes closed, he sighed, acquiescing
when Methos pressed insistently on his lips, graceful fingers demanding
access. Abandoning himself to his fate, Duncan opened his lips and
welcomed Methos in.
Methos slid two fingers in sideways and separated them a bit. "Wider,
MacLeod," Methos scolded. "Come on, open up." The look on his face when
Duncan did as he asked was its own reward. "Hold that thought,
MacLeod," Methos murmured, pulling his fingers out and slipping himself
in. Moving closer, Methos pushed deeply into Duncan, gliding forward, not
stopping until his pelvic bone bumped up against Duncan's nose. "Ummm,
just perfect," he purred, satisfaction resonating through his voice. "Don't
move, Highlander," he commanded, gripping Duncan's sweaty face tightly
in his strong hands. "I'll do all the work; you just lay there and be a good
little whore."
Despite the harsh sounding words, Methos' pleasure and desire and
obvious affection were evident in the velvet-soft caress of his voice. And if
that wasn't enough, all Duncan had to do was to look at the blissful
adoration shining on Methos' face. Methos' pale skin and lips were
flushed, glowing with desire. His gilded green eyes gleamed with lust,
desire and love.
Methos fit his fingers firmly around Duncan's face and neck, finding a
comfortable and secure place to hold Duncan's head still. Once he was
satisfied with his grip Methos began thrusting in and out, his eyes focused
unswervingly on the sight of his ruddy, tumid erection, watching himself
sliding in and out of Duncan's wet lips; he cocked his head, listening,
apparently fascinated by the lovely liquid noises.
"Oh, God, so hot...fuck, MacLeod - you feel so...good." Methos gasped and
groaned his pleasure as he pressed in and out of the slick, hot mouth and
throat that welcomed his eager thrusts. Almost lying on top of Duncan,
Methos flexed in and out, shoving deeper รท and even deeper with each
increasingly desperate push.
Duncan's eyes drifted slowly shut, and he allowed his mind to drift free.
He let himself hear the small grunts and louder moans that Methos
couldn't seem to hold back. He drew air in deeply through his nostrils,
staving off suffocation and savoring the deep musky scent of Methos'
passion. He swallowed the bitter-sweet, salty tang filling his mouth and he
filled his sight with Methos, lost in passion and arousal. Duncan focused
his hungry gaze on the place where Methos drove himself to meet him,
pushing them together until any separation was lost, until they seemed to
merge in Duncan's tear-damped sight, truly becoming one flesh.
Methos shoved into his mouth for what seemed to Duncan to be a very
long time - then abruptly, he withdrew, leaving Duncan gasping for air,
and feeling as bereft as if he'd suddenly lost his shadow. Duncan strained
up again, reaching, seeking for the solid reality that had been so rudely
taken from him, but Methos would have none of it.
Methos sat back on his heels, bracing his hands on his thighs, sucking in
oxygen, panting while he tried to regain some measure of his equilibrium.
"I want more than your mouth, Duncan, sweet as it is. And now you're
going to spread your legs and give it to me, aren't you?" Methos gasped
out, some of the intended abruptness lost to his desperate gulps for air.
Duncan, long since abandoned to his desire to have Methos buried deeply
in him, in his ass if he couldn't have him sheltered in his mouth, simply
nodded his agreement, unable and unwilling to offer any resistance.
Capturing Methos' gaze, Duncan drew his legs up so that his feet were flat
on the bed. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of Methos'
fascinated look, Duncan slid his feet up towards his body, separating his
thighs as he went, offering Methos the clearest possible view. Duncan
flexed his back and arched his hips towards Methos. "This what you had in
mind, humm?" Duncan asked quietly. At Methos' nod, Duncan said, "Come
take me then."
Methos shook his head, as if to clear it, then slid down to kneel between
Duncan's legs. Grasping a trembling thigh in each hand, he pressed
Duncan's legs as far apart as possible, lowering his head to nip and lick
along the area where Duncan's hips joined onto his body. Duncan
shivered in anticipation as Methos ran his hot tongue along the seam of
his thigh and hip, nudging his balls carelessly out of his way with his
nose.
Duncan groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, arching his hips
even higher, offering himself to Methos. The liquid fire of Methos' lips and
tongue sliding over his tender flesh felt so good, so right. Methos' tongue
pushed its way into him, setting his nerve endings alight, igniting a
craving for penetration of another sort. But not just yet. Duncan wasn't
ready to lose the gentle suction of Methos' mouth, the playful nips from
his teeth, and the - oh dear God, the wet thrusts of Methos' tongue.
Too soon, Methos pulled his head away. He smiled at Duncan and raised
his hand, brushing the back of his fingers in a soothing caress over
Duncan's cheek. Pushing Duncan's hair away from his eyes, Methos
soothed, "Just a minute, we're almost there." Reaching for the lube
Methos slicked himself, then slid his fingers into Duncan, smoothing the
slippery substance into him. Methos grinned, then nudged his fingers
against that part of Duncan's body that made him groan aloud, arching his
entire body up off the mattress.
"Oh, God, Methos," Duncan moaned. "Please."
"Please, what, Duncan?" Methos smirked; looking far too pleased with
himself, he pushed against that place again, and then again. "Is this what
you want?" Not waiting for a coherent answer, Methos spread Duncan's
legs further apart and with one stroke, shoved himself all the way into
Duncan's desperate body.
Duncan sucked in a shocked breath. Methos' heat seemed to fill his entire
body; it radiated out from his ass to warm him everywhere. Methos
paused for only the briefest of moments, then he was riding him hard,
pistoning in and out, his pace increasing with each stroke. The edges of
Duncan's vision started to go dark and blurry, the shocks of pleasure
rocketing through him at an unbearable rate. Methos had him angled so
that each thrust hit up against the place in him that sent glittering
sparkles of wanton pleasure and carnal feeling shooting through his entire
body.
Duncan forced his eyes open, drinking in the vision of Methos lost to their
pleasure. Somehow, Methos had never appeared more beautiful to
Duncan than he did in this singular focused moment of need, desire, and
possession. Duncan's throat tightened as he stared, entranced, at the
precious lover he'd thought lost to him forever. He needed more, had to
have more; he wanted to melt into Methos and never be parted again.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face because Methos
slid a hand off of his thigh, wrapping it around the focus of Duncan's
throbbing, aching desire. Methos squeezed Duncan hard, and his eyes
rolled shut. He forced them open again, desperate with his need to see
Methos, to reassure himself that Methos was the one making love to him -
pouring himself into him until their separate identities were lost forever.
Consumed by the fire, he lost himself, lost his mind, his identity and his
separateness to Methos. Gave them all over freely and willingly.
The world tilted and blurred, then darkened and faded toward the light at
the center of his vision; there was nothing left but Methos. Nothing but
this one eternal moment, this one perfect instant of fulfillment, this one
love. Duncan sank into the vital essence, the necessity of his connection
with Methos.
Releasing, freely giving everything, Duncan surrendered all that he was,
offered all he had ever been, promised all that he ever would be, and laid
it at Methos' feet.
Duncan craved the ability to tell Methos - share his feelings with words,
but he was almost unconscious. So he reminded himself that they had
forever -- again, and settled for wrapping his newly released arms around
Methos as tightly as possible. Snuggling into the protection of
Methos' strong body, Duncan tucked his head in tight under Methos' chin,
and sighed in total contentment. Duncan allowed himself to drown in the
blissful, incomparable feeling of a warm, totally sated, drowsy Methos as
he gradually relaxed on his chest. Drifting away, the heartbeat and
presence of the love of his life soothed and grounded him, holding him
safely through the night.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
finis