Methos
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by Sannah
still Methos isn't mine - what a pitty
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You will pick me up at 8 o'clock in the evening and you will give me your best 'Adam-Pierson-wouldn't-hurt-a-fly-look'. Of course, you will shake my hand - tenderly. You'll smile at me and your hazel eyes will bind me.
Besides you will present yourself as every time you're in public: your black hair will be kept short but wild and your clothing will be too casual on the occasion as well.
But you won't trick me. I won't be taken in by your innocent, still lovely appearance. I will know who you really are. I will know you're Methos, the oldest Immortal. And I will be aware of your unforgivable past.
I will see through your perfect deception.
You, as far as you're concerned, won't tell me what you've done, what I won't be supposed to be told. Only you won't be good enough to hide it from me.
You will give me a bouquet of white roses, though I will recognize them as truly black.
By the time we'll arrive at the restaurant - not the most expensive one, for you will pay - you will take my coat and lead me to the best table.
After two glasses of wine on my and at least three bottles of beer on your side you will start telling me.
First you will confess you're not of my kind and I will pretend to be surprised. Moreover you will inform me about your life: .that you're 5000 years old, maybe 100 years more or less (who cares), that you've been friends with Socrates, Cleopatra, Napoleon. But you won't let me know about you having been one of the Four Horsemen, who brought death and terror into the world.
Equally I won't tell you that I will already have accepted it as a part of you.
Later you will take me home and I will ask you to come in.
You will kiss me then with your soft lips and these beautiful, long- fingered hands will touch me. Your handsome looks will turn me on and not long and I will be able to feel every single muscle of your slender body - how they will contract in time with your moves.
And yet I will recognize that it's not me you'll long for. I will sense that it's him you want.
But I won't have this to stop. And finally I will convince myself that it's Adam I will be with, not Methos, so that I will give in the sensation.
by Sannah
still Methos isn't mine - what a pitty
----------
You will pick me up at 8 o'clock in the evening and you will give me your best 'Adam-Pierson-wouldn't-hurt-a-fly-look'. Of course, you will shake my hand - tenderly. You'll smile at me and your hazel eyes will bind me.
Besides you will present yourself as every time you're in public: your black hair will be kept short but wild and your clothing will be too casual on the occasion as well.
But you won't trick me. I won't be taken in by your innocent, still lovely appearance. I will know who you really are. I will know you're Methos, the oldest Immortal. And I will be aware of your unforgivable past.
I will see through your perfect deception.
You, as far as you're concerned, won't tell me what you've done, what I won't be supposed to be told. Only you won't be good enough to hide it from me.
You will give me a bouquet of white roses, though I will recognize them as truly black.
By the time we'll arrive at the restaurant - not the most expensive one, for you will pay - you will take my coat and lead me to the best table.
After two glasses of wine on my and at least three bottles of beer on your side you will start telling me.
First you will confess you're not of my kind and I will pretend to be surprised. Moreover you will inform me about your life: .that you're 5000 years old, maybe 100 years more or less (who cares), that you've been friends with Socrates, Cleopatra, Napoleon. But you won't let me know about you having been one of the Four Horsemen, who brought death and terror into the world.
Equally I won't tell you that I will already have accepted it as a part of you.
Later you will take me home and I will ask you to come in.
You will kiss me then with your soft lips and these beautiful, long- fingered hands will touch me. Your handsome looks will turn me on and not long and I will be able to feel every single muscle of your slender body - how they will contract in time with your moves.
And yet I will recognize that it's not me you'll long for. I will sense that it's him you want.
But I won't have this to stop. And finally I will convince myself that it's Adam I will be with, not Methos, so that I will give in the sensation.