Rated: NC-17 Explicit m/m sex
Interlude between Sweet Conflict: Part IV and V

Between the Raindrops
Jessica L. Blackstone


MacLeod stared at the drops of rain that glided down the pale angular face of the man sitting motionless on the roof. A flash of lightening in the distance caught his attention for a moment before his brown eyes returned to the still figure, once again wondering about Methos’ penchant for getting cold and wet.

He had asked him about it the first time he’d done it on the barge, during the short time they had lived together, but the maddening man had just given another cryptic response that made absolutely no sense and yet did.

‘It never changes.’ Duncan mentally snorted at the memory of the smooth clipped words. Typical Methos. His eyes once again narrowed in on the angular profile wondering what he’d see in the hazel gold eyes if he were to step out and join him in his vigil with the rain.

Irritation filled MacLeod. He didn’t know what could have upset Methos. Hell, he was the one who had spent one of the most miserable days he could remember today, being dragged about a mall looking for hiking boots that Methos had no intention of buying. None of the manufactured brands were up to the ancient immortal’s exacting standards. If anyone should be sulking, it should be him. Methos had enjoyed his discomfit entirely too much.

‘Is he going to stay out there all night.’ As if on cue, the tall man stood and gracefully sauntered towards him. Shadows hid whatever expression was on the handsome face as Methos blissfully passed him and continued down the stairs, leaving MacLeod to silently follow him.

His eyes caressed the long black strands that were dripping attractively over the high forehead. The thick black lashes shielding the eyes and the mysteries they held.

MacLeod absently pulled the down the cage, activating the elevator’s descent as he continued to circumspectly monitor the man whose body he was coming to know as well as his own, or had been before their…breakup? Blast! He didn’t even know if that’s what it could be called. His confusion colliding with the rising frustration at Methos’ present remoteness.

He glanced sidewise curiously. The wet black hair was just too damn tempting. Duncan reached out and gently brushed the soaking black strands back, caressing the chilled fair cheek as he did so. “Methos?” he whispered softly, not knowing what he was asking for exactly but gasping as the eyes met his at the breathed name.

Duncan felt himself flushing from the heat in the dark eyes. The hand still resting on the side of his lover’s face moving to cup the back of Methos’ head as he stepped closer and thrust inside the mouth he achingly remembered. He tenderly brushed his tongue against Methos’, moaning slightly as he felt the other immortal’s heartfelt response as he was pulled forward against the cold damp body that managed to enflame him even more.

His hands felt hot against the wet coat as he frenziedly pushed Methos against the back of the elevator, and stepped between the other immortal’s legs, pressing their groins together. Contact which seared him, and drove all thoughts save one from his head. To take what Methos had been tempting him with since he’d first walked into the loft and found the ancient immortal sprawled across his bed.

MacLeod shoved all thoughts of consequences aside. He didn’t care how long Methos was planning to stay. All he wanted was to be inside the missed heat that had been haunting his nights for months. His tongue danced around inside the moist mouth without a moment of respite for fear that if he did, Methos would kill the mood by saying something irritating.

No, he needed this and by god’s grace he was going to have it. Him. Methos.

The stopping of the elevator distracted him for a second before he adeptly turned Methos around while still maintaining the kiss. The cage was easily lifted one-handed. He stepped forward, gently backing up Methos into the loft. He pushed off the wet coat, which fell with a distinct clatter to the floor which they both ignored as they stepped over it.

He slowly slid back his tongue into his mouth inviting the other to follow. Duncan moaned as the talented tongue took him up on his invitation and thrust deep into his mouth. He drew his hands down the lean body feeling the muscles under the clothing which was only slightly damp. The sudden halt to their movement signaling that they had reached the couch. ‘Good enough!’ Duncan decided as he drew back and glided the shirt up and off of Methos. He instantly leaned forward to reclaim that mouth but was stopped by the hand suddenly on his chest.

“Bed,” the smooth low voice whispered against his lips before slipping away from him and towards the bed.

He watched mesmerized as Methos glided backwards while slowly undoing the fastening of his jeans while the green eyes steadily met his in a intense gaze.

Methos slipped off his loafers and pushed off the jeans as he sat at the foot of the bed, still meeting the brown eyes with his own.

MacLeod stepped forward unable and not wanting to resist the challenge in the glittering eyes. Lust filled him as Methos removed the last barrier of clothing and laid wantonly back almost in the exact position he had been when he had first seen him. One leg raised to open himself shamelessly to hot eyes.

He looked down into the passion filled eyes while he caressed the upraised leg. Mac suddenly realized he was still fully dressed and promptly pulled off his sweater and dropped it to the floor. The pants and briefs were quickly stepped out of and then he was kneeling between the long fair legs, pressing his stiff cock against an equally hard one as he slowly took the parted pale red lips in a slow deep kiss.

MacLeod’s hips had automatically began to thrust slightly against the hard body which caused Methos to moan at the hot rough contact pushing him deeper into the bed. Duncan’s hands felt like they were on fire as they gripped the narrow hips and lifted the firm butt to rest on his upper thighs. The slight brushing of Methos’ cock against his causing a shiver to run down his spine. Mac silently groaned as he suddenly remembered that he didn’t have any lubricant in the loft.

He looked down at Methos, surprised to find that the other immortal was twisted to the side apparently reaching for something under the pillows. MacLeod accepted the tube of lube completely stunned. Any remaining doubts about Methos’ willingness or motives promptly disappearing.

Duncan wasted no time about spreading the cool gel on himself, the act easing the urgency just enough for him to enjoy the bucking of the hard body beneath him as his finger languidly stroked inside the tight heat. His eyes feasted on the pale angular face twisted with emotion and panting for breath, not to mention the writhing hips which seemed to be beckoning to him with its slight thrusts forcing his fingers even deeper.

He withdrew his fingers and leaned over resting his hands on either side of Methos’ head to wait.

Methos’ hands wandered over the muscular back and up the neck to grasp the silky soft hair. The hazel eyes opened suddenly as he felt the highlander suddenly still.

Dark passionate eyes met Duncan’s, daring him. A dark challenge that the highlander gladly met by thrusting his cock completely inside the waiting sheathe in a single stroke. No other part of their bodies touched making the act even more intense than either of them remembered.

Methos’ hands clenched the bedding at the incredible feeling. His eyes closed as his back arched at the sweet invasion, unable to control the deep guttural moan that fell from his lips as the hard cock inside him began to move.

All remnants of reason fled from Duncan’s mind at the sound to be replaced by simple need. He clutched the pale hips and began to drive inside with short hard thrusts.

“Yes!” Methos hissed. Gods he had missed this… He looked up at the lustful expression on the dark handsome face. The long brown hair trailing down the sides to occasionally brush against him, scorching him. He pressed back, impaling himself even further. Black lust filled him.

Duncan shook his head to get his hair out of his face, looking down into glittering eyes of dark lust. His hands slipped with sweat on Methos’ hips as they meet his thrusts with distinctive slaps as flesh met flesh. An overwhelming need to take this man, make him his in some indelible way filling him with frustration. His strokes already rough became hammerings as he tried to drive his way deeper perhaps even to the ancient immortal’s soul.

MacLeod came with a deep groan, a small part of him gloating as he felt Methos’ answering climax as he continued to jerk, spurting come even deeper inside the tight body.

He looked down at Methos who like him was panting heavily. He bent over and rested his forehead again the pale smooth chest, some indefinable emotion filling him as arms came up around him. He settled between the spread legs after his regretfully softened cock slipped from its moist home and looked down at the sweaty pale face, gently brushing the black strands back behind Methos’ ears. Renewed desire ran through him at the satiated expression on the ancient immortal’s face.

Something drew Mac to his side moving so that he held the older immortal in his arms. MacLeod nuzzled the fair smooth neck, not at all surprised to feel his cock hardening once again, pressed as it was against the muscular buttocks.

“What was that?” he breathed from behind, referring to not only their frenzied almost violent coupling but to the shadows that had flitted periodically through the hazel green eyes, deadening them.

Methos rubbed his cheek against the arm he was laying on. “It’s an aspect of my nature, a part of who I am--get used to it.”

Duncan froze at the even tone. The earlobe he’d been sucking totally forgotten. The edge to the melodious voice alerting him that the cryptic immortal was trying to tell him something important. Perhaps it was true. That those dead eyes were a part of the man he was warmly pressing up against, who even now stirred in him a level of sexual hunger previously unknown. He shook his head slightly, tightening his arms around Methos. No he wasn’t going to allow Methos to do it this time. “Why do you do that? Distance yourself?!”

“Distance myself! You ungrateful…I’ve allowed you more liberties that anyone in the last five centuries!”

“Allowed??” Duncan growled bristling at the arrogant tone. Not liking the connotations at all. He wasn’t some aspirant begging a noble for some boon.

Methos looked up over his shoulder at the disgruntled expression on MacLeod’s face and arched his brows but said nothing.

It was enough however. The Scot drew away and slid off the bed to stand glaring down at Methos’ now bemused expression. “Allowed?” the highlander once again challenged.

“What would you call it then? How about granted you my favors,” Methos drawled in an aristocratically disdainful voice that no one had heard since the 17th century.

MacLeod’s hand reflexively went to his left side where his sword use to be when they were worn openly in society, completely forgetting his nakedness.

Methos laid back with no attempt to cover his nakedness or to defend himself at the highlander’s blustering.

Mac suddenly moved towards the bed and straddled Methos without warning. The act drawing a startled laugh from the ancient immortal.

Methos smiled as the highlander once again managed to completely surprise him.

“Allowed??” Duncan growled in a thick Scottish brogue.

Methos stared steadily into the intense brown eyes for several moments before reaching up with both hands to wonderingly caress the sides of the dark handsome face. His hands pale against the smooth cheeks that he trailed down to the roughened chin covered with beard stubble. Delight filled him when Duncan allowed him to draw his face down to his. “Let’s just say you are one entirely unique individual, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” he whispered against the stiff angry lips. “Shall we leave it at that?”

MacLeod gave a stiff nod but slowly relaxed as the other immortal’s very adept tongue continued to make questing forays around and between his lips. Parting his lips as the need to feel that tongue once again against his, overwhelmed both his common sense and anger. A small part of the highlander acknowledging that the ancient immortal had once again won the round.

The End

***Next up: Methos, MacLeod and Dawson go to a boxing match in “Apparitions.”