December in Seacouver

Methos strode slowly through the dark streets. The street lamps were small pools of light that traveled little distance before fading in the fog. The air was heavy with moisture that beaded on every surface. He raised his face to the night, enjoying the soft mist that covered his skin. It was a balmy 55 degrees, surprising in mid December, even for Seacouver.

The fog reminded him of Victorian London. There was never a bookstore like Wentworth's Emporium before or since, Methos thought nostalgically. The bookstore he had just left was a poor substitute for the ones he remembered. The proprietor, however, had been an enjoyable conversationalist and they had talked past closing time, which was why he was hurrying towards Joe's. MacLeod would be wondering where he was.

His musings had taken him to within three blocks of Joe's when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Presence made itself felt with a prickling over his entire body. Instantly alert, one hand unbuttoned his coat while his head scanned the shadows for the other. Another step and a shape appeared out of the fog. Methos sighed in relief.

"I got worried and decided to see if I could find you." MacLeod's voice was like velvet in the heavy air. His eyes were bright with welcome; his hair dark with diamonds sprinkled in among the ebony strands.

Methos shivered. How he loved the sound of that voice. And the throat from which it came. And the neck that housed that throat, long and kissable. Not to mention the strong body that the neck connected to the shapely head. Which was cocked to one side in quizzical question of his silence.

"I got to talking." Methos shrugged. "It wasn't one of my chronicles. Just a nice old journal from the time of Suetonius."

"Which will keep you busy tomorrow while I'm giving my classes." MacLeod shook his head and laughed softly at the 'who me' look his friend gave him. Raising a hand, he cupped Methos' jaw and wiped the moisture from his cheek. "You should be old enough to know to come in out of the rain."

Methos turned his head just enough to nestle a soft kiss into his palm, breathing in Duncan's scent. How he loved to feel all that power leashed with tenderness. "I was thinking that a pea-souper like this should be enjoyed. Instead of Joe's, how about we just walk home?"

"The fog's gotten into your brain." MacLeod shook his head but fell into step when Methos just smiled and started off again.

Side by side they strode through the misty streets, meeting few others, content to just experience the night together. An occasional car spun by, its engine muted by the heavy air. They spoke little, just an occasional mention of the day spent apart. MacLeod informed him with great solemnity that the beer supply had been restored to pre-weekend levels. Methos told him a story of one of his students who'd gotten the eunuchs of ancient Syria confused with his UNIX computer system.

MacLeod laughed himself into a coughing fit over that one and Methos had to thump him to get him to stop. By the time they reached the dojo, they were both pleasantly tired. After hanging up their coats, Methos headed to the kitchen for beer while MacLeod started a fire in the fireplace.

Methos stopped a few paces from the sofa, caught as always by the sight of his lover on his knees before the fire. Intent on coaxing the flames higher, he didn't notice Methos standing there. The flickering light cast highlights on the strong features, outlining the high cheekbones and the square jaw. His muscles flexed beneath the thin sweater when he shifted the logs with the fire tongs. His thighs bunched and moved within the well-worn jeans and Methos found his breath catching at the innocent but seductive movements.

MacLeod's laughing voice broke into his reverie. "Do I get one of those beers or are you going to drink them both?"

"I don't know. What will you give me for it?" Methos teased him.

MacLeod pushed out his lower lip and gave him a soulful look that turned Methos to jelly. "Kisses?"

Methos handed him the beer and watched mesmerized by the puckered lips wrapped around the bottleneck. Sinking bonelessly down beside MacLeod, he drank the last of his own beer while watching the man who owned his heart. "Kisses are good."

"Share some of mine?" MacLeod swallowed a mouthful and leaned forward to brush his lips across Methos'.

Methos opened his mouth and drank in the MacLeod-flavored beer, followed by the brush of an agile tongue. They drank the rest of the beer in turns between kisses that went from playful to needy.

"You're still damp." MacLeod trailed his lips down the slender throat and nuzzled into the neck of his sweater. "You should take off these clothes and slip into something ... warm ... dry ..."

Methos closed his eyes and enjoyed the flickering tongue that always knew right where to stimulate the nerve endings. "How about something hot and wet?"

MacLeod pulled back just far enough to widen his eyes with a wicked gleam. "Methos!"

"A bath, MacLeod. A nice hot, steamy bath with those spruce bath salts." Methos brushed a loose lock of sable curls behind Mac's ear and traced the whorls and curves of one of the most perfect pair of ears in the history of man. And he should know ... after five thousand years.

The dark eyes were closed now and a purr came from deep within his chest when Methos' other hand began a sensuous massage of his other ear. Light and teasing strokes that moved up and down the sensitized flesh. MacLeod shuddered when the tip of one finger flickered within the canal and his eyes opened with a smoldering look.

"A bath, Methos, sounds good. You get it started and I'll fix a tray of something to snack on." He brushed his lips across his lover's, once, twice, a third caress then pulled back. "You're going to need your strength."

Methos swallowed convulsively and watched MacLeod pull back and saunter towards the kitchen. A wicked smile crossed his face and he headed for the bathroom. MacLeod and water had a natural affinity that brought out all of his sensuality and Methos planned to exploit it to its fullest tonight. Stopping by the CD player, he put on a mix of Strauss, Loreena Mckennitt, Beethoven and Neil Diamond. Then he hit the 'random' button and continued on into the bathroom.

He and MacLeod had done some major renovations to the loft's bathroom. Methos' favorite was the skylight that centered over the tub. Normally, they could watch the stars but not tonight. He paused to turn up the radiant heater that covered the south wall like a sculpture. Then lighting four of the tall, fat white candles that lined the tiled edge of the oversized spa tub, he decided that was enough light. He wanted the soft gray fog that shrouded the skylight and the beads of water that ran in rivulets along the glass to be a part of this night.

He tested the water as it came shooting out of the whimsical dolphin faucet. Just right. Reaching into the cabinet beneath the sink, he pulled out the green bath salts that smelled of spruce and eucalyptus and poured a generous portion into the faintly steaming bath. The almond oil he placed to one side of the tub in case they needed it. The oversized bath towels of forest green, he rested on the heated towel rack. Turning, he saw MacLeod just standing in the doorway with a loaded tray in his hands and a look of hopeless longing in his eyes.

Methos instantly pulled him into the room and closed the door behind him, standing behind him and wrapping his long arms around the trim waist and whispering into that perfect ear. "Come inside, love. Into the warmth. Into a place of safety, where all your fantasies can come to life and be lived in full ... sensuous ... Technicolor."

The sweet strains of the Moonlight Sonata floated about the small space from the hidden speakers high in the corners of the room. Methos flicked open MacLeod's top jeans button at the same moment he gently bit an ear lobe, enjoying the low moan from the man in his arms. The sense of power that came from knowing that until MacLeod put down the tray he was helpless to do more than just accept whatever Methos decided to do to him, was intoxicating.

The rest of the buttons slid open easily, even eagerly over the burgeoning swelling of MacLeod's manhood. Methos felt the tremors that kept time with the long, sweeping caresses of his fingers, aided by the moist licks and nips he was placing on the soft throat, exposed by Mac's helpless stretch of pleasure. His other hand crept under the sweater to place teasing caresses on the rippling muscles of the flat stomach before moving upward to the broad chest.

"Enough!" MacLeod shook as Methos palmed a nipple. "I didn't prepare this food to go to waste on the floor."

Methos laughed and stepped away, watching his lover take visible control of his body and set the tray carefully on the broad edge of the top step that led up into the tub. They began a slow strip tease, each trying to get a reaction with soft touches and protracted removal of each piece of cloth without once touching the other.

Methos watched mesmerized by the play of candlelight on the strong body that was slowly revealed to him. Skin that glowed bronze, muscles that rippled with movement, hair that gleamed like rich chocolate, and the long lines of his legs that stretched like a dancers. He was so in love with this man, he could feel the ache that began every time he looked on his perfection. Hopelessly, he shook his head, wondering for the thousandth time what MacLeod could possible see in him.

"You're beautiful, my love. Every part of you," MacLeod seemed to have read his thoughts, yet again. "I look at you and I see the slender strength of five thousand years." His voice dropped to a caressing whisper. "Silken skin stretched tightly over strong muscles that make me want to kiss every inch until no part of you is untouched." He reached out and drew Methos up the steps and into the tub, pausing to turn off the water about ten inches from overflowing the boundaries of the tub. His voice continuing to make love to him.

"Your eyes hold the secrets of time itself, changing from green to brown to hazel depending on your mood. Your nose is straight and proud like the Roman emperors of old. Your mouth hypnotizes me when you talk into wanting to still all movement with my own. And the long swanlike neck which you hide with those tatty sweaters, invites me to nibble." Suiting his actions to his words, MacLeod moved between Methos' long legs and began to nuzzle his throat.

Methos floated in the steaming water, his head supported on the pillow-soft foam edge, his arms and legs boneless with the pleasure that MacLeod poured over and into him with his caresses and words.

"You are mysterious as the dark, shapeless as the fog that swirled around us tonight. You are the air I need to breathe, the strength that supports me in all I do. Your laughter is the song I need to sustain me. Your tears remind me that I'm human. When you moan for me, I feel ten feet tall." Each sentence was preceded by a different caress that moved lower on his sensitized body. For a long moment, MacLeod suckled at Methos' breast, before raising his head and gazing deep into his eyes.

"Have I ever told you that this nipple is my favorite?" He waited for Methos' head shake before smiling bashfully. "It's the one over your heart."

The tender confession brought tears to Methos' eyes. "It beats ever and only for you, my love. And has since the moment I met you."

MacLeod ducked his head shyly and brought Methos' hand up to his chest, pressing it to his heart. "And mine for you, beloved."

They just looked at each other for long moments, until the stroking began again, but this time they both participated. The water lapped at the sides of the tub when their movements got more forceful. They wrapped around each other, each stroking the other to explosive completion.

They lay together in drowsy joy until Methos stirred and reached a long arm to the tray for some grapes. MacLeod accepted his share with a lick to Methos' fingers at every bite. The cantaloupe took more energy to chew and MacLeod smiled at the first taste of chocolate. The water had cooled considerably before they languidly left the tub and toweled each other dry.

Methos bent over the tub to blow out the candles, feeling his lover come up behind him and initiate an intimate caress that made him shiver with sudden need.

"Did I mention how ..." his tongue joined his hands on his lower back, "succulent ..." a sharp nip brought a hiss to Methos' lips, "I find this part of you." A long lick down into his hidden center made Methos cry out in longing. "Let's take this to bed, love. This is the time but not the place for me to make sure you realize how much I love you."

Methos turned wordlessly into his embrace, needing the gentle strength of this amazing man who had never lied to him and for some strange reason loved him beyond measure. "Bed. Now. I need you inside me, making this all real."

MacLeod's eyes grew even warmer if that was possible. "Your wish is my command. Let me love you until there's nothing in the universe but us." He led him out of the overheated chamber into the cooling loft and hurriedly pulled back the fluffy duvet and ushered him into the warm flannel sheets, before joining him in the heated cocoon. Their shivers quickly turned from cold to loving and Methos lay on his human heater, rocking gently, creating a friction that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with passion.

MacLeod's hands were busy, rubbing and probing all Methos' secret places. Stretching the small opening with lubricated fingers that danced and teased within and without. Connecting with the small gland and brushing it gently but firmly, he made Methos arch and moan. Rolling him onto his back, he wrapped the long legs around his waist and nudged inside the begging body beneath him.

Methos twisted up, panting in short gasps, trying to take more of MacLeod into himself. "Please, please, please ... now, now, now."

MacLeod thrust once to the hilt and began the long slow glide out again. "This ..." another thrust, "is how much ..." he began to pick up speed, "I love you." The rhythm became the only thing in Methos' world. That and the sound of his lover's voice. "We are one."

"One." Methos' voice was faint while he concentrated on the feelings blooming in his body. Everywhere they touched was on fire. Every movement flickered in his consciousness like a lash of fire. But this fire burned away the disbelief and doubt, leaving behind nothing but light and energy.

Even with his eyes closed, Methos could see MacLeod. Reaching behind him, he pulled the other man in closer ... closer ... closer. And with a breathless scream, they touched each other's souls and began the long pulsing of delight that slowly gentled into murmuring completion.

"Am I too heavy?" MacLeod breathed into Methos' ear.

"Never." Methos' legs slid bonelessly to the bed and his leaden arms moved slowly to hug MacLeod closer. "You are my anchor and my shield. I love you."

"You are my flame of life and the reason I live." MacLeod curled his hands around the broad shoulders. "I love you."

Methos sighed contentedly and snuggled into the warm body that blanketed him. "You know, Duncan, we should walk in the fog more often if this is the result."

"As long as it's together." The sleepy murmur came from his shoulder.

"Always, beloved." And Methos followed MacLeod into sleep.

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The end for now