Candlelight

 
In a kitsch-ridden guesthouse in the middle of nowhere, two Immortals lie entangled in a wide brass bed. The light of the dozens of candles that are scattered around the room shimmers in the warm, dry breath of summer night air filtering through the windows. Methos watches as the light flickers on Duncan's olive skin, gilding it subtly to the finest polished bronze, making the sheen of sweat across the muscled chest gleam. MacLeod's arms are flung back behind his head, completely relaxed and open. Methos reaches out a hand to gently caress the soft skin just above Mac's elbow, loving the automatic quiver that meets his touch.

Hmmm...Time for a little pay-back, O lover mine. He muses over the possibilities and a wicked grin spreads over his features. The memory of a few hours ago lingers in the vague ache of his body and the tingle of his spine he recalls the sight of the two of them reflected in the huge overhead mirror as Methos lay tied to the bed while Duncan's cock slipped in and out of him with agonizing deliberation. The silk necktie still hangs from the bed frame and Methos' mouth quirks at one corner as an idea forms in his mind. We have candles, we have a brass bed...we have a Highlander in need of a lesson in what goes around comes around...

Methos strokes a finger down the side of his lover's face, and then reaches up to fold a hand around the strong wrists that lie so tantalizingly crossed above Duncan's head. Slowly, so as not to disturb his sleeping lover, the ancient Immortal winds the strip of silk around Duncan's wrists -- tying them securely to the bed. Turnabout's fair play, kiltboy. Methos rises from the bed and picks up a white candle from the holder on the table, carrying it back to the bed. It is slim and the wind has made it burn unevenly so the wax pools in a deep valley. Oh yes, this will be perfect. Duncan stirs a little; a small breathy noise slips past his lips as Methos sinks back down onto the mattress, but he doesn't wake. With a feather light touch Methos strokes his hand down Duncan's chest, tracing the line of hair, finishing with a tiny brush over the quiescent cock. He arches towards the caress, his eyes opening wide as he realizes that he is restrained.

"Methos?"

The question in the name is a low husky whisper and it slithers down Methos' spine making him harden. He watches the dilated pupils widen even further as Duncan takes in the candle in his lover's hand, but there is no fear in the dark amber eyes, only desire. A shiver of anticipation runs the length of Methos' body. He holds the candle well above Duncan's chest, tilts it so that a large drop of molten wax falls onto the satin skin.

With a hiss the Highlander bows off the bed, his hands jerking against his bonds, the skin flushing red briefly under the assault. Another drop of wax hits the center of MacLeod's chest. Oh yes... It's hot, almost but not quite enough to burn and the sensation that follows is more than compensation for that. Mac stretches out a little, rolling more completely onto his back. More...oh yes... His cock twitches back into life, beginning to harden. He moans out loud, stretching and arching. His eyes are wide; catching Methos' gaze for a long moment, an invitation in that look that is unmistakable.

"Want me to stop?" Methos smirks, raising an eyebrow. There was no way that Duncan would say no to this. You are so easy...

"Would it matter if I did?" MacLeod heaves a deep breath, his eyes glitter in eager anticipation, reflecting the candlelight.

"No." Methos replies darkly and lowers his mouth to his lover's. "You are mine."

They kiss then, long and slow, tongues tangling, skimming teeth and lips and as Mac arches up into his lover another large drop of wax falls onto his chest. A hissed inhalation is all the reaction that meets the sensation and Methos lifts his mouth from his lover's to gaze into the dilated brown eyes.

"I'm going to fuck you 'til you scream," Methos promises, in a voice turned to gravel by lust, as he sits up beside MacLeod on the bed, lifting the candle above the wide chest.

"Bet you can't..." Mac challenges and he gasps a little more as a tremor of expectation ripples through him.

"We'll see, won't we?"

The candle tips once more and this time a long stream of molten wax runs over Duncan's sternum, down towards the flat belly. He surrenders to it, his breath beginning to come a little quicker. It is hot and soft at the same time and his heart beats faster with every drop. Again the candle tilts held closer to his skin this time and Duncan groans aloud as the hotter wax hits him.

Methos lowers his mouth again, this time to taste his lover's pebbled nipple, curling his tongue around it, sucking it deep into his mouth. His teeth graze the sensitive tip and Duncan shudders, the sensation flying from chest to cock in a blinding instant. His tongue leaves no millimeter of the nipple untouched and it is cool in the air as Methos lifts his mouth from it. The coolness is gone in a second, though, as the wax again falls, dripping directly onto the erect tissue. This time the groan is closer to a shout -- mingled pain and pleasure too close to separate.

"Such a pain-slut," Methos teases gently.

The wax hits the other nipple this time, searing him with its heat, molding the tiny nub into hard peak. MacLeod's hips lift from the bed; his cock burns with need, he whimpers slightly, the sound escapes unwillingly from between gritted teeth; his hands are straining to be free.

"Want me to stop?" Methos challenges.

Duncan lowers his eyes, submitting completely. "No."

Methos slips down the bed, letting his erection brush his lover's leg casually. MacLeod gravitates towards it, eager to touch in any way he can. The arousal is burning up his spine and he aches for a more tangible contact. Again a molten drop sizzles on his skin, just above his navel his time and this time he can't help but arch off the bed into it. So good...

Methos moves a little more down the bed, Duncan's cock is bobbing in time with the beat of his heart. It is beautiful in the candlelight, like the rest of the man, Methos thinks as he takes it in his free hand, stroking it slowly from base to tip, smoothing the pearly drop gleaming on the end with a circling thumb. He holds the candle aloft above the taut stomach as he dips his mouth to his lover's groin, dropping kisses on the smooth skin, the coarse hair, and the velvety sac. Another droplet of molten heat strikes Duncan's skin and he jumps -- surprised and distracted from his concentration on the hot mouth on his skin.

Then Methos has him in his mouth, engulfing MacLeod's cock, slipping silken lips down the shaft, sucking softly at first, his tongue flickering lightly, teasing. Another droplet hits his belly and he arches off the bed, pushing his cock further into his lover's mouth. Duncan's heart beats fast, even faster than usual when Methos' mouth is sucking so strongly at his shaft. A careless puddle of molten heat falls onto the flushed skin and the Highlander shudders. He is close now; the fire within him fanned by the pleasure and pain commingling. Methos' mouth pulls back a little sucking just the tip once more -- his tongue sweeping the precum from the tiny slit. Yet another molten drop splashes onto the satin-fine skin and MacLeod cries out -- a wordless plea for completion that Methos knows only too well. Not yet lover.

Methos releases the shaft and it slips from his lips to lie once more against the flat belly. One more drop of heat sears MacLeod, mere inches from his cock; he jumps and cries out suddenly.

"Please..."

"Please what?" Methos' voice is a silken murmur as he bends his head towards Duncan's groin once more. "Please stop?" He punctuates the question with a broad stroke of his tongue to Duncan's cock. "Please fuck you?" Another lick. "Please let you fuck me?" A butterfly flicker of tongue at the head of the shaft. "What is it that you want, MacLeod?"

"Fuck me...please..."

"Not yet."

Methos leans forward to catch his lover's mouth, dragging him into a bruisingly intense kiss, hungry and rough. As he pulls away, breathless with desire, Methos runs a suddenly gentle finger across his lover's swollen mouth. Their eyes meet for a second, their need hums in the air around them like a living thing. They kiss again -- Methos' tongue flickering against Duncan's teeth -- and as another drop hits Duncan's skin, Methos swallows his lover's cry. His tongue plunges into MacLeod's mouth, mimicking the rhythm that he truly desires. Small sounds of desperation issue from Duncan's throat as his body burns for more.

Duncan's voice breaks the silence. "I want you...please?" Urgency plucks at his nerves, making him taut and hypersensitive. He spreads his legs wide, offering himself to his lover freely.

Methos grabs the lubricant from the bed table; he turns and settles between his lover's long legs, kneeling. A generous amount of gel covers his fingers and he pushes one a little roughly into his lover. Duncan shudders and groans.

"More..."

Methos skips two and goes straight to three, shoving them inside MacLeod, trembling in anticipation of their joining. The passage is hot and tight; it stretches around his fingers as he thrusts them into his lover, preparing him quickly.

Duncan's eyes are wide -- mesmerized by the sight he sees reflected in the mirror on the ceiling. A thin stream of fluid leaks from his cock as his arousal flames towards uncontrollable. Every thrust of his love's hand sends the long fingers curling into his prostate. Sweat drips from Duncan's body as he thrashes against his bonds.

Methos moves forward a little -- his knees slip under Mac's thighs and as they wrap around him eagerly he reaches down to grasp his own cock and pause it at Duncan's opening. With a deeply carnal groan Duncan arches-- sinking his body down onto Methos, impaling himself on the rock-hard shaft. It is long and his position drives it deep. Absently, Methos lets the candle tip again and Mac gasps and arcs higher off the bed, pushing his lover's cock even deeper inside. Methos can see the sweat glossing his lover's golden skin, can see the effort that restraint is costing him and smiles a dark triumphant smile.

At last, Methos begins to move. Still holding the candle aloft, he begins to thrust into Duncan, his eyes are wide, fixed on his lover's and hugely dilated with desire. Another drop of liquid heat falls onto the dark chest, the candle is close this time and it scalds him, making Mac cry out loudly. He is high, on the pain, on the sensation, on the chemicals flooding into his overloaded brain -- Duncan's whole body is buzzing with pleasure.

Methos snickers a little in response, a little smug in recognition of his power. He needs more, though, needs to drive himself into the tight silk that surrounds him. Reluctantly, Methos blows out the flame and drops the candle to the floor. He rises to his knees, lifting Duncan with him so that the Scot's shoulders are all that touch the bed. Again Methos begins to thrust, harder now -- every movement of his body taut with primitive rhythm. He pounds into Duncan, far gone into the place where there is only instinct, lust and sensation. Games are long forgotten -- there is only the sweet downward race to the end and Methos throws his whole being into it.

Mac is sweating and writhing now, wild with need and frantic to come. His wordlessly exultant cries fill the air; he is close, so close he can taste the sweet flavor of completion. Suddenly the torment is too much. With a low scream that echoes around the room Duncan is coming, he can no more hold back his response to his lover than hold back the wind. He arches into his lover's movements, his back bowing. His essence spills hot across the flat plain of his belly, as hot as the wax so liberally splashed onto his skin. A last heaving surge is all that it takes to send Methos careening after him; Methos' orgasm is quick and rough, ripped from his body in tearing spurts. He cries out, pleasure and pain all at once are the same to him, mixed in his body in equal amounts. He is frozen in the moment and as Duncan watches his mate's beautiful face their eyes meet once more.

Finally he lowers Duncan's body to the bed; he is limp and heavy, boneless with satiation. Methos slumps beside him -- exhausted, breathless. At last he reaches up to free Duncan's hands from their silken bonds. Duncan's arms steal up to hold him, stroking, reassuring him silently. MacLeod lifts a hand to wipe the sweat-soaked strands of hair from his love's pale forehead, kissing his mouth, whispering lover's foolishness into his ear. The candlelight still flickers over them, red and gold -- lighting the planes and deepening the shadows -- throwing the beauty of two muscled bodies into sharp relief. The silence that follows is long and deep, broken only by the slip of skin on skin as they settle more comfortably together. A thought occurs to Methos and a smirk appears at the corner of his mouth.

"Do I recall someone mentioning a bet? Perhaps that someone else couldn't make him scream?" he murmurs close to Duncan's ear.

"I don't remember screaming..." Mac replies as he attempts distract his lover by wafting hot breath across the base of Methos' pale throat.

"Oh you screamed all right. I'm surprised the manager hasn't been up banging on the door for you to shut up. So what do I win?" the old one purrs as he stretches sinuously, incidentally offering his neck to his lover.

"Me?"

"You'll have to do better than that MacLeod...I think we've established that you are already mine." Methos punctuates his words with a hand stroking his lover's tangled hair.

"We could come back here again?" Duncan draws Methos a little closer still, wrapping his arms around him, dropping small nibbling kisses over his larynx.

"Contrary to popular belief, MacLeod, I am not insane. This is, without a doubt, the worst B&B in North America, if not the world. You can do better than that, you're a bright boy." Methos sighs under Mac's mouth and long legs tangle together once more.

"I'm fresh out of originality tonight; you tell me what you want." Duncan brushes his hand down the length of Methos' spine.

"Hmmm...What do I want...? Decisions, decisions..." A sensuous wriggle and Methos is even closer to his lover. "I think I want..." The rest of his words are lost as his mouth is claimed under a pair of demanding lips and as the candlelight dies the passion flares once more.

***

A voice echoes out in the darkness a long time later. "Methos?"

"Yes, Mac?"

"Exactly how do I get this wax out of my chest hair?"

"Funny you should ask that..."

"OWWWWW!!!"

**The End**

 Back to Contents