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Benjamin Pierson's Beach House.
Bora Bora.
May 14, 2003.
Methos was out on the beach catching some sun while MacLeod was out running around the island. He found some amusement in the readings of Methana's Adams writings, that Joe had sent him from a recent watcher discovery. Of course he had them shipped to Methos because he needed some translation help. She had been his wife in the last few years before he met Kronos and then went on a killing spree as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Somehow the watchers in Greece had found her journal, she had not been immortal, and Methos loved her so much that he had preserved her writings as best he could.
He remembered how she used to sit and write poetry in the early evenings in the courtyard by the fountain. He remembered what she told him one day when he came upon her and asked her what brought her to that spot day after day, always in the early evening, she always seemed relaxed and at peace afterwards when she came back into his presence.
"It is my time during the day to meditate, unwind after the housework, and my duties. Do you not agree that I would be a better wife without it?"
He could never deny her a thing. She felt like it was a part of her duty as a woman and a wife to improve herself to be a better partner for Matthew Adams. She only called him Methos when they were in private. She believed he was a gift from God, he never aged and had the stamina of an ox. He thought she was a goddess. She was as tall as he, beautifully endowed, head to toe. Her hair was like spun chocolate, her face a little pale, she was just right. She had been the daughter of a king, the island was named after her… Methana. She never let him read a thing she wrote. Now in the present he felt as though he was getting to know her all over again.
A couple hours later Duncan snuck up on Methos and they went back to the house. He put Methana's writing away for safe keeping and went for a new beer while Duncan showered after his run. He looked outside and noticed the sky was moving and a tropical storm was on it's way in.
"Damn El Nino."
"Damn who," Duncan asked as he finished pulling down a sweater over his head.
"Nothing. There's a storm coming in."
"You want to go out and watch the sunset? We could go for a slow stroll and come back for dinner."
"Sure."
So Methos and Duncan went out for a stroll on the beach as he finished off his beer. At one point, Methos sought out Duncan's hand and captured it.
"Something the matter?"
"No," said Methos.
"You seem, happy, amused, and lost in your own thoughts at the same time. What's going on? Does it have anything to do with the package that came from Joe two days ago?"
"Nothing's going on and yes."
"Care to share?"
"No. It's personal. You're ruining the sunset. Come sit and just watch," Methos plopped down on the sand and pulled his knees up to his chest. Duncan moved in behind him and put his head on Methos' shoulder.
As the sun set the clouds became really dark. Just after the sun disappeared behind the clouds, Duncan kissed Methos on the nape of his neck.
"Mmm, feels good…" Methos moaned.
Suddenly he felt Duncan poking his back with something that wasn't his leg and Methos jumped up. He got on his knees without getting sand on his hands. He pushed Duncan back onto the sand and took what he wanted, in a passionate kiss..
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Duncan looked up at Methos. Deep, beautiful orbs met his gaze, drenched him in that warm feeling of possession. Their faces were centimeters apart, Methos' nose play sword fighting with the tip of Duncan's nose. Duncan breathed in as Methos breathed out; Methos breathed in as Duncan breathed out. They were a part of each other in every way. Methos moved in towards him this time, locked them together, feeding at Duncan's mouth like he hadn't eaten in years. Duncan lapped up that flavor and scent that was Methos, sandalwood, something else musky and masculine that Duncan had never quite been able to put his finger on, no matter how many times he sampled it. Duncan didn't know what he had done to deserve someone so perfect. His body melted into Methos', aligning with his cut form perfectly. He was the best he had ever had, and Methos thought just the same of him. Methos' warm hands traced faint circles on his bare back as Duncan's arms wrapped around his neck, bare chests pressed together.
Even though they were on a beach, they couldn't possibly be seen by anyone because it was a private island and beach. All Duncan wanted was to make every part of their bare skin touch. And he knew Methos had something along the same lines in mind as well. And, sure as Duncan had predicted, he soon felt Methos' hand slip down to his hip, and tug downwards lightly. He wrapped his arms around him again quickly, holding him close. He pulled back slightly and pressed one last firm kiss on Duncan's lips before moving down, planting soft butterfly kisses in a line across Duncan's jaw and down his neck. Nimble hands moved to Duncan's chest under his sweater, pausing at each nipple and tweaking lightly, sending Duncan arching off the sand. The thumbs continued to circle as the mouth moved down lower and lower, still kissing, licking, and every now and then nipping a path across Duncan's stomach.
One hand moved from Duncan's chest down to slip into the waistband of Duncan's black slacks. He could do nothing but pant and watch as they were slowly peeled off his form, freeing his already dripping arousal. Methos moved up his body once again, and caught Duncan's eyes in a stifling gaze, made sure Duncan knew what he was about to do as his warm mouth hovered tantalizingly over the head of his cock. Smirking devilishly, Methos sunk down, left Duncan helpless. The younger man's hands twitched and buried themselves in spiky dark hair. Methos drew up once more, sucked gently, and licked all the way, eliciting a pleasured moan from Duncan's lips. The captive glanced up, checking in the general direction of the night sky as it became darker as the storm moved in but his eyes snapped shut as Methos began to move, working harder.
Whimper after cry after moan was forced from Duncan's mouth. Methos sucked and swirled his tongue expertly, wrapping his hand around what wouldn't fit in his mouth and bracing himself by keeping his other hand planted firmly on Duncan's thigh. But now, he moved that hand down slightly to fondle with Duncan's balls, and then slip lower to find the boy's warm entrance. Methos reached into his pocket and brought out a small travel size lube. Duncan didn't even register the first; the lubricated intruder, he was too close. It was only with the arrival of Methos' third digit that he did realize momentary discomfort, but he was soon away again in a world of bliss… So close… Methos' fingers brushed lightly against that spot inside him and Duncan's body was once again wrenched away from the sand with a beseeching cry, just at the same instance as his soft lips left Duncan's cock.
Duncan whimpered as the cool night air taunted his arousal. Methos climbed up Duncan's chest, Duncan's hands still stroking his hair, and his fingers still wriggling inside Duncan. Methos leant forward and kissed his lover again, Duncan could taste himself on Methos' lips, bitter and salty.
"Ready," asked Methos and suddenly the sky opened up. Tropical rain began to soak the beach and their bodies, washing sand off of them.
Duncan could only bite his lip and nod enthusiastically. Methos smirked once again at his ability to drive this beauty wild. They truly did belong to each other. Methos finally withdrew his fingers and knelt between Duncan's outstretched legs, their eyes meeting once more. Duncan frowned as he just sat there looking at him and managed to pant out,
"For Christ's sake, just fuck me, Methos!"
He could never refuse a direct order and he plunged deep into that tight cavern of warmth that he loved so much, producing an impassioned cry of his own. Duncan clutched at Methos as he drove into him, a string of incoherent curses and pleas escaping his lips throughout it all. Methos smirked. He silenced his lovers' verbal incontinence by claiming his lips as he claimed his body, fancifully carving a rut in the sand with their movements. Duncan moaned into his mouth and as Methos drew back for breath he heard his own name escape the impassioned man's lips. Knowing his control wasn't going to last much longer, Methos' hand found Duncan's cock sandwiched between them and fingers roughly circled it, only having time to pump it once before Duncan's hands clenched at his back and he cried out in ecstasy. Duncan's hot essence shot out all over their chests, stomachs and Methos' hand. Methos matched his cries as Duncan's muscles convulsed around him, allowing one last thrust up into that lithe body before also bringing himself to release.
Methos lay atop Duncan, rain pounding into them, both panting, and waiting patiently for their heart rates to return to normal. Duncan was the first to open his eyes and kiss his lover tenderly, glancing around at the aftermath.
"Methos…" he whispered. The older man propped himself up on one elbow and looked at him questioningly. "Where are our clothes?"
"Who cares?"
MacLeod's Loft.
Seacouver, WA.
January, 3, 2004.
9:00 p.m.
"Duncan, I have a right to her quickening. She's more a part of my history than yours."
"No Methos, I promised her I wouldn't let you have her quickening. She made me, and by the way that is not a good enough excuse."
"And what if this person is too much for you to handle, have you thought about that? I won't be the one to watch you lose your head because you were hell bent on getting Cassandra's quickening."
"Vice versa Methos, what if this person is too much for you? I won't stake the head of a 5,000 year old man for one, no, two quickenings."
"I don't suppose you'd put aside your Highland honor and let me have her quickening."
"What's eating at you Methos… What are you not telling me," Duncan asked as he tried to read Methos' pensive movements.
"Plenty MacLeod, plenty. Would you believe me if I told you that Cassandra was my wife?"
"Your what?"
"My wife Duncan, you know female, walks on two legs, supposed to do housework, and keep their husbands happy…"
"You mean she was your slave. I know all about your history, she told me remember?"
"Did she tell you we were married a decade before you were born?"
"No. What happened?"
"Kronos found us living together. We were living in Wales, in the forests. He kidnapped me and she went to her hideout in Donnan Woods. We had been trying to heal our past and then he blew it all to pieces. She digressed and reverted to the hatred she had for the four horsemen and myself. I escaped Kronos again and found her in Donnan Woods. There I found out she had burned our home. She tossed my books at me and kicked me out saying we were divorced. My clothing went up in the fire. And…" Methos paused.
"And," asked Duncan as he poured another heavy round of drinks.
"That was the end of us. I still cared for her, but she was so filled with hate, there was no chance we could try again. I had forgotten about her until she showed up at your place. And the rest is history…"
"I will keep my promise Methos."
"Fine…" Methos said, but he already had plans to find the immortal that took his ex wife's head.
~~ Just don't get in my way MacLeod…~~ Methos thought.
MacLeod's Loft.
Seacouver, WA.
January, 4, 2004.
2:00 p.m.
Methos was still in Duncan's bed asleep after a night of comfort sex. Last night they had gotten a call from Joe… Cassandra was dead and he was doing everything within his power to find out who it was. Duncan was more shattered by the news than Methos. Methos had thought he had been helping Duncan start the grieving process, but they had gotten in an argument over who should kill whomever had her quickening… Then it became the who's not speaking to whom game. Duncan was down in the dojo, doing a kata, and working through the emotions of Cassandra's death. She had been with him most of his life in one way or another. Almost like the big sister he never had. Really it wasn't about each immortal finding the killer and who got his or her head, not even about Cassandra. It was about how their relationship had grown to more than just caring for each other. It was love. And deeper than either one wanted to admit to each other at the time.
Joe's Bar.
Seacouver, WA.
10:00 p.m.
Methos went out for dinner and ended up at Joe's for a nightcap.
"Hey Adam, what can I get you? Is Mac here with you," asked Joe. "I've got something for you in the back."
"No, Mac's not here. I'll take it home with me if you've got it."
Joe sensed the mild mannered watcher wasn't in a good mood and decided to stay out of it, "Yeah sure, I'll be back, Mike will take your order."
Methos ordered a double whiskey and drank half straight while he waited for Joe. Joe came back and handed him the sealed manila envelope. He drank up the rest of his drink and plopped down ten bucks for the drink.
"Thanks Joe. You can put the rest on my tab. I'll see you around."
"Bye Adam," Joe said as Adam left the bar. Joe thought something was up but he couldn't put his finger on it. He considered that it just might have been his way of dealing with Cassandra's death.
He sat in the parking lot long enough to find out who Cassandra's killer was. Kevin Kearney. Romania.
~~ She died in Romania… I wonder why she was there? Other than my home is there. ~~ Methos wondered. Had she come to ask for help or was she there to kill him? Duncan had said he wanted him alive and that he'd take her head if she killed him… ~~ Maybe she was there to make amends? ~~
Methos went to his 1 bedroom apartment he kept secret from Joe and Duncan, just for emergencies, really. He packed up the few things he had and left the IKEA furniture. He covered everything in the back of the Jimmy and parked it a block away from the dojo. He went up to the loft and used his key. Duncan was gone and so he just made himself a bed on the sofa. He fell asleep in his clothes under a blanket of Mac's. Duncan came home late from a staff meeting and felt Methos. He kept the lights out because the moon was bright enough to see, undressed, and slipped into bed in the dark.
MacLeod's Loft
Seacouver, WA.
January, 5, 2004
8:00 a.m.
Duncan was at Seacouver U beginning the new school year teaching a class on Scottish weapons and warfare of 1592 to present. Back at the loft Methos had his large military style duffel bag packed and he was finishing packing other little trinkets of his into a smaller backpack. He had every trace of him packed up and down in his Jimmy. He scribbled good bye, on a note pad near Duncan's bed. Methos felt hurt last night when Duncan was being hard about not letting him have Cassandra's head. She was gone, the least Duncan could have done was step aside, as a friend. Although he didn't show it, Methos felt betrayed on Cassandra's part that she made Duncan promise not to let him have her head. And then this morning when Duncan had gotten up and left like nothing happened the night before… Methos knew it was a low blow to pick on Duncan's character, but he had to try to keep Duncan from rushing into a battle like he always used to do and damn near get himself killed. Methos was in love with Duncan, but never let him get close enough just in case something did happen, and then he could keep his protective barrier intact.
He was too scared to verbally share his feelings because of his past. All his lovers in the past had ended up dead, i.e. Rebecca, Alexa, Kronos, Silas, Lord Byron… Most recently Cassandra, though not by his hand or Duncan's, but he still felt tied in somehow. He knew Duncan would be hurt that he didn't leave a clearer note and would run to Joe for help. Methos decided to call Joe later and let him know things were okay.
~~ I love him enough to let him go. ~~ Methos thought as he locked and closed the door behind him.
Adam Pierce the 3rd's Estate.
Bucharest, Romania.
January 7, 2004.
Methos arrived at his home in Romania and headed straight for his office to set up a base camp to find this Kevin Kearney. It only took him a few hours and talking to a few of the locals to find him. He was hiding out in Cluj-Napoca near the head of the Carpathian mountains. Within five days Methos caught Kevin and took his quickening and thus gained Cassandra's. On his journey back to Bucharest he began to become more emotional, because of the fact that Kevin was a relatively new upstart that had gotten lucky in taking Cassandra's head. Methos wondered if she had surrendered her head or had Kevin cheated with a faster weapon. He knew she could certainly defend herself, why had she allowed such a young immortal kill her. He started to consider that she knew in her death that either MacLeod or himself would come after whomever killed her. Possibly picking a fight to tear MacLeod and him apart from each other. Maybe kill one another to get her quickening?
Maybe that was why she made Duncan promise not to let him have her quickening, to start them fighting. Then Methos realized her plan almost worked. Yes, she had made them fight. Yes, they had split up. Bucharest and Seacouver. The prophecy was almost complete. But Methos knew they wouldn't kill each other over this. At least he hoped not. When he arrived back at his home and dropped his things off in his office. A courier came before he could sit down and call Joe. He went out to the gate and signed for the padded envelope. There was no return address, but he opened the envelope anyway. Methos was scribbled on the top of the cream colored envelope inside the padded envelope. He took the envelope back to his office and poured himself a strong one. He sat down at his desk and opened the cream envelope with his miniature Ivanhoe letter opener.
"Methos, I guess if you are reading this, I have died for the last time. I must admit I knew that you and Duncan would become an item and I thought by making him promise to take my quickening from the winner was my last effort to assure Duncan would be stronger when it came down to the last two. I wanted you two to separate from each other over me. I know in my foolish attempt, you have gone and stolen my quickening from Duncan, so I hate to admit it, but I want you to watch over him. Guard him with your life. I am not sorry your brothers are dead and that you are still alive. I know we really tried to make it work, but you know I still couldn't forgive you for giving me to them early in our past. After we parted at Bordeaux, I finally let you go and the anger, rage, and tried to move on but I couldn't. There was only one way to let you go, and that was forever. Now I shall make room, settle in you, and not cause anymore trouble. Good bye Methos. Cassandra."
Methos was on the verge of getting drunk and shedding tears. He chose both for a few days.
Joe's Bar.
Seacouver, WA.
January 14, 2004.
3:00 p.m.
"Joe's bar, Joe speaking."
"Joe it's me. Is MacLeod there?"
"Adam, where in the hell have you been and yes, he's here."
"Good, don't pass the phone. I just called to let you know that I'm ok."
"Where are you? Are you sure you're ok?"
"I can't say, and I'm getting better. Thanks for your help Joe."
"Your welcome. Mac's been pacing my floors every night after school since you left. He's worried Methos."
"Just tell him I'm fine. I'll send him word soon."
"You take care and watch your head. I know about Kevin. I haven't told Mac yet."
"Good, don't. Just tell him it's taken care of. Do you think he'll be mad?"
"Will do. He might. He's been brooding as well."
"Night Joe."
"Night Adam."
Methos sat down at the small writing desk from his Lord Byron days in his office and put the ink pen to paper to write a letter to Duncan. He paused and took a deep breath... It was all or nothing now. He was putting every emotion out on the table for MacLeod to read.
"Duncan... I have been blind. Unwilling to see the true love you're giving. I have ignored every blessing that you've brought into my life. I'm on my knees confessing..."
He paused for another beer and then continued...
"That I feel myself surrender each time I see your face. I am staggered by your beauty, your unassuming grace. And I feel my heart is turning, falling into place. I can't hide it any more Duncan. Now hear my confession..."
Methos didn't want to think about what MacLeod might think or feel when he read his words. He hoped at least that they would sink in deeply.
"I have been wrong about you. I thought I was strong without you, but you interrupt my thoughts daily. I think about how you are and what you are doing. For so long, nothing could move me. For so long, nothing could change me. I was my own man, a survivor and student of human nature. But you've moved this old man, sought to change me, and you've taught this old dog some new tricks. When you're a student everyone is your teacher, and Mac you've taught me much more than you'll ever know."
He paused again to grab another piece of paper because he was running out of room. He refilled his pen and continued to write.
"Now I feel myself surrender, each time I see your face in my dreams. I am captured by your beauty, your unassuming grace. And suddenly I feel my heart is turning. I am falling into place, your arms. You catch me and hold me. I can't hide this any more Duncan.
Now hear my confession..."
Methos stopped to wipe the edge of his eyes as he knew the gravity of the emotions he held in for so long, were now so raw and on the surface, he had to release them.
"You are the air that I breathe. You're the ground beneath my feet. When did I stop believing? You mean so much to me Duncan. I don't know what I have been doing without you like this for so long. I don't know how much longer I can go through being without you, cause I want to feel myself surrender, when I see your face again. I want to be staggered by your beauty, your unassuming grace."
Closed his eyes for a moment. He could see Duncan there in the room with him. He so wanted Duncan to cross the room in 3 strides, sweep him off of his feet and take him off to bed. Methos opened his eyes and tried to forget his silly heartsick fantasy.
"And I want feel my heart is falling into place, right inline with yours. I can't hide it much longer, now hear my confession MacLeod. I can't hide it any longer, now hear my confession."
Another piece of paper, he was about to finish up his heart felt letter, and then he changed his mind. This wasn't just a heart felt letter, this was a soul felt letter, the more he thought about it before he went on.
"Hear my confession. I feel my heart is already turning, waiting to fall into place. I love you Duncan. With all my heart and feelings, M."
He signed it M just because he didn't feel like using his whole name. Methos folded it all together and sealed it with wax. He dropped it off in his outside mail box and went back to his day. He worked out to warm up and practiced his moves in the nude in his private studio. Mirrors and dancer rails lined the walls. He worked out his anger over Cassandra's death, her letter, and how she expired. He worked out his anger towards Duncan, at how insensitive Duncan was to his feelings. His anger over the fight they had and how he just dropped the ball and ran.
What if Duncan couldn't find it in his heart to forgive him, what if it was really over? The ball was now in Duncan's court. All Methos had to do was wait for the return serve…
TBC...
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