Comes a Scotsman

By Diana Williams, Little Alex, Em, Layna, Tritorella and esjay with suggestions from Citosa.

"Okay, twenty bucks."

"Oh come on, Joe, I don't even get out of bed for twenty. Fifty."

Joe choked. "Fifty? Are you out of your mind?"

Methos shrugged. "I don't care. If you don't want to see it ...."

"Thirty."

"And free beer for a week."

"Aw, man, that'd send me broke. Call it forty."

"Fifty, and he's on his way over. Take it or leave it."

"Okay, fifty. Bastard," he added, muttering. "But no touching. You or him."

"Of course not, Joe." Methos contrived to look innocent and abused. "Now play along," he whispered. In a louder voice he added, just as MacLeod came up behind him, "I think that was during the three years I spent as Genghis Khan's sex slave."

Duncan leant his elbows on the bar and raised an eyebrow. "Genghis Khan?"

Methos smiled back in a suitably enigmatic way.

Shaking his head, Duncan looked across the bar to Joe. "Same again, thanks."

From the corner of his eye, Methos watched Joe pour the drink while he waited for Duncan to take the bait. It didn't take long. Duncan looked over his shoulder at Methos and shook his head again, compressing his mouth in that familiar 'what have you been telling him now?' expression, complete with those adorable crinkles around his eyes. Methos got a little warmer.

Joe set Duncan's drink down on the bar, looking significantly at Methos. That was no good -- he'd be giving the game away in no time. Methos needed to get Duncan away from the bar. The simplest plans were usually the best. Methos picked up his own drink and slid from his bar stool, heading for the table in the far corner.

"You coming?" he called over his shoulder. You will not snicker. You will not snicker. You will not snicker. And he didn't.

A grumbling assent came from behind him and by the time Methos had sprawled himself into the chair against the wall on the far side of the table, Duncan was easing into the other.

"You really shouldn't tell him stories like that, Methos. What if he believed you?" The head-shaking again. If he wasn't careful, it'd fall off and wouldn't that be a sight to remember.... "It'd be your own fault if he put it in your chronicles."

Methos sprawled deeper and rested his drink on his stomach, smiling smugly across the table. "It's already there."

That got him. The scotch Duncan was in the process of drinking came exploding out his nose and all over the table top. While he was still spluttering, Methos caught Joe's eye. "Can we get a towel over here?"

Behind Duncan's back, Joe was doubled over in silent laughter. Methos glared at him and a bar towel came sailing over Duncan's head to land in the mess on the table.

Methos wiped and Duncan recovered himself enough to rasp, "Genghis Khan? You were Genghis Khan's sex slave?"

"Why not me?" Methos pouted. "I'll have you know there are many things at which I am extremely talented."

"No doubt," Duncan shot back rudely.

Methos affected offended innocence. "Well, if you're not interested...."

"Oh, I'm interested." Definite interest on several levels in the velvety purr of Duncan's voice.

Hook, meet fish.

Methos' lips curled slightly in satisfaction. He resisted the urge to glance over and see if Joe had observed how quickly the Highlander had taken the bait.

"So, which of my prodigious talents are you interested in...exactly?"

There was a short, rather heated pause. Methos noted Duncan's slight flush and intent look with smug pleasure. Sod the money, this is actually fun. Duncan recovered well, however, and ignoring Methos' provocative statement, he leaned back in his chair, mirroring Methos' relaxed pose.

"What was Genghis interested in?"

"Temujin, you mean."

"Huh?"

"His name. Genghis Khan is a title. You didn't think his mother called him 'Genghy' for short, did you?"

Another disgusted snort. "Okay, so what was Temujin interested in?" Duncan said irritably.

"My mouth," Methos answered serenely. "Among other things, of course."

This time the shower of scotch was anticipated. Methos wiped the table again while Duncan recovered his composure, then looking straight into Duncan's widened eyes, Methos continued, his voice deliberately taking on a slightly husky quality.

"For a man who had conquered a large part of the known world, he was quite a shy man, even vulnerable. Like most great warriors, deep down all he wanted was to be able to just let go and have someone else take over for a while. Of course, that wasn't possible; so he dealt with it by insisting on absolute control in sexual matters so he didn't lose face. "

"He needed to be top at all times, and he absolutely adored having me suck his cock. Preferably when he was standing up so he could watch me while I was at work. He said he liked the way my lips would swell slightly as he thrust into my mouth but I suspect what he actually liked was that I would make it last and last until his knees buckled."

Methos grinned and licked his lips, watching Duncan's expression as his words hit home. "I suppose these days you'd describe him as repressed but really he had one of the most voracious sexual appetites I've ever come across. After battle he'd be insatiable. On the floor, over tables, against the tent walls.... I don't think I've been so well fucked for centuries."

He took a swallow from his bottle of beer. Joe had said he couldn't touch himself -- not that he couldn't move, after all. Under Duncan's intent, dark gaze, he stretched luxuriously, tilting his chair back against the wall and letting his thighs fall open. This gave his victim, as Methos well knew, an unimpeded view of a tight denim-clad crotch and a long, lean body. He knew he was desirable. Many had told him so, and he had no reason to doubt them. Duncan didn't disappoint him as his eyes dropped automatically and then darted away.

Methos pretended to be lost in pleasant memories and resisted the temptation to cheer as Duncan shifted surreptitiously in his seat.

"You enjoyed it?" The words were clipped and Duncan's voice grated slightly, something he covered by taking another gulp of his scotch. A warm tendril of arousal snaked down Methos' spine at the possessive edge in Duncan's voice. He suppressed a shiver and regarded the Highlander through his eyelashes.

"Oh yes! God, Mac, he wasn't ugly, he treated me well and he was hung like a yak. What more could you want? On the whole it was one of the most pleasant periods of enslavement I've experienced and anyway...." He let his words trail off and a slow smile spread across his face, while one hand, as if of its own volition, stroked down the inside of his thigh. 1...2...3...4....

"Adam!"

"What? Bloody Hell, Mac. No need to bellow -- I'm not deaf."

"And anyway, WHAT?"

"Oh! Well, it's just that...." Methos dropped his voice and bit his lip, delighting in the way Duncan instinctively leaned closer. "He was very imaginative and, and...I liked that." Flushing slightly, he lifted his head and stared wide-eyed into Duncan's heated gaze. Fuck, it's warm in here.

The few seconds silence seemed to stretch interminably, both his and Duncan's breathing preternaturally loud in his ears while the background noise of the bar seemed a long way away.

Then, very quietly. "Liked what, Me-thos?"

Duncan's voice had taken on the quality of crushed velvet. Methos ruthlessly ignored the sharp jolt that hearing his real name on the Highlander's lips always gave him and decided abruptly that there had been quite enough foreplay.

"Being tied up, Mac. Temujin had a thing for bondage."

He handed over the bar towel without comment as Duncan attempted to inhale alcohol for the third time that day.

"He was fascinated with the paleness of my skin -- his people were so dark compared to me -- and said he liked the contrast between it and the leather he used to bind me."

Duncan's eyes darkened perceptibly at this and he shifted in his seat again.

Methos kept his face impassive and waited for Duncan to take his cue. His Boy Scout didn't disappoint. "Tell me...."

"He loved it when I struggled." Methos sighed, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'd fight against the bonds, and he'd just stand over me with this ruthless smile...."

"What did he...?"

"Well, as I said, he was insatiable after battle. Three, four, five times, hardly a moment to get my breath in between, just absolutely hammering into me, but other times, he was more...subtle. He'd bind me to the bed with these wide leather straps, and leave me for a while to think about what he was going to do to me.

He'd go off to plot strategies, oversee his troops -- you know, conqueror type things. Sometimes he'd even meet with his lieutenants in the tent with me there, and I'd just be lying there on my back. Completely nude, of course. Exposed, open for everything he might want to do to me."

Yes, Duncan was squirming, mouth slightly open, breathing audibly. Very good.

"A strap around each wrist," here Methos gestured, circling his left wrist with his right hand, "and on my ankles, and just here," he stroked high up on his

inner thigh, "to keep my legs apart. Absolutely and completely helpless, utterly exposed." He lowered his eyes and whispered, making Duncan lean further in to hear him. "He made me wear this...device, a gold plug, with an emerald the size of a quail's egg on the outside for decoration. So I'd always be...ready for him."

Methos held his breath, fearing that this last revelation might go beyond the bounds of Duncan's credulity; to his secret delight, there was no sign of doubt on the Highlander's face. Instead, he had the look of one hypnotized.

"Gold," Duncan murmured. "That had to have been...."

"Heavy. And cold when it went in, too. I was very much aware of it all the while, stretching me open for him while I lay there, waiting...."

MacLeod shifted again. Methos didn't need to look at his crotch to know that Duncan's imagination wasn't the only thing intrigued by the mental picture of Methos spread open and filled like that. He took another sip of his drink and leaned his head back, not able to hide the little smirk on his face as his eyes met Joe's across the room. Not that Mac was paying any attention to his face. Methos could practically feel the Scot's eyes burning through the fabric of his jeans, laying bare his crotch. He spread his legs a little more, casually, as if he was stretching, and could have sworn he heard a faint whimper.

He managed to school his expression as he watched Duncan forcibly tear his eyes away from his crotch. "Waiting?" Duncan asked, picking up the thread of Methos' tale. His voice sounded rough, but that could have been because he had just drained the rest of his Scotch. Methos didn't think so.

"As I said, he liked my mouth best of all. He particularly liked it when I was completely helpless, unable to prevent him from doing what he wanted. Sometimes he'd toy with me, teasing my mouth with his fingers while he told me what he planned to do to me. Other times, he'd be too hot and impatient to wait, and he'd shove his cock in, so far in that I could hardly breathe, fucking me so hard that my lips would be bruised for days."

He could feel Duncan's eyes on his mouth, focused right on those lips. "But what he really enjoyed was a slow, leisurely fuck. He'd feed it to me slowly, sliding in just a little bit before pulling back out. Short, shallow thrusts to begin with, teasing me, making me work for every inch. And I would, too. The things I could do with my tongue...." He paused to moisten said tongue with another sip of his drink, and he could have sworn he heard another whimper. "Another thing he loved was that I could take all of him, and since he was so big, that was no mean feat. I could relax my throat and take him all the way down, and then...well, you've heard about the humming trick, haven't you, Mac? I didn't just hum. I'd make my entire mouth vibrate, pulsing around him from tip to root, while my tongue fluttered over that sweet spot just behind the head...."

Deliberately, he licked his lips and heard a sharp intake of breath from more than one person. He opened his eyes a fraction, and saw that Joe had come bearing beers for all three of them, but was now staring at Methos, his mouth hanging open.

Two for the price of one.

Methos resisted the urge to grin, and wondered if he could make Joe pay double if he got them both off.

He made a subtle gesture at Joe to sit down, not wanting to break the spell by actually inviting the man to join them, but it seemed the Watcher was no longer content to watch. He sat down even more awkwardly than normal, and although Methos avoided glancing at the region below Joe's ample stomach, he knew what he would see. Well, well, well. Those straight boys can be turned, after all, praise the Lord.

"It wasn't always just him, of course," Methos added absently, and had to poke himself in the thigh to not laugh out loud at the way both of his listener's eyes boggled. "Sorry, did you say something, Joe?"

Joe wiped his face with his handkerchief. "No, not me, man. You were saying...?"

"I was something of a gift for his more favored supplicants. He was gracious like that. The fact that their sexual prowess was on display before someone who could use that information against them if he chose was just an afterthought, I'm sure."

"What...?" Duncan cleared his throat. "What did he do?"

"Him? Oh, nothing, he just watched. He'd invite them in and suggest they try to wear me out. Naturally, they never succeeded, but it was fun letting them try. Oh, I'm sorry, Joe. Mac, give him that towel, will you?" Poke, poke. "The only rule was not to damage me to the point where the Khan couldn't take his pleasure afterwards. Being Immortal, that gave them...a certain leeway, shall we say?"

He took another sip of his beer, and licked the bitter liquid from his lips. "My master sometimes had to suggest that just fucking me wasn't going to work. He'd encourage three or four of them to try and gain satisfaction from me at the same time."

"Four ...how...?" Duncan just stared at him. Methos stayed perfectly still, staring straight back until he'd worked out the logistics.

"It was five if the one fucking me was getting it up the arse as well."

Duncan flushed bright red and Joe's mouth was hanging open again. Methos was tempted to reach over and push it closed. "If the mood was on him, sometimes, the Khan would tell them that they had to make me come without fucking me or touching my cock. Then he'd hint that I liked...pain, of a certain sort...and being bound...just so.... I must say, some of those Russians...." He let a dreamy quality enter his tone. "Being flogged with mink, being tickled with ermine tails...torture. Sheer torture." He sighed heavily. "Especially if they had my balls tied up. When they would stroke those with fur, I had to work hard not to disappoint my master. He liked to bet on my stamina."

"So..." Duncan cleared his throat and started again. "So how long...?"

Methos shrugged. "Depended on whether I'd already come once or not. If I was fresh, thirty minutes was average. Otherwise, I could go for hours. Top or

bottom."

Joe blinked. "You could go at it for hours?"

"Easily. Temujin once bet a group of traders that I could fuck all of them without coming once myself. He was particularly pleased with me when I won that bet for him."

"How many...?" Duncan asked.

Methos nearly grinned at the realization that Duncan had been reduced to half-sentences. "Six."

Joe looked at him skeptically. "Right. You expect us to believe that you fucked six guys into the ground without coming once?" Methos just raised his eyebrows at Joe in reply and took another swallow of beer. "Mac, you buying this?"

Duncan was still flushed and there was a glassy look to his eyes. "He does this...thing...with his tongue."

Joe rolled his eyes. "It ain't his tongue we're talking about here, Mac -- we already know how good he is with that mouth." Duncan gave Joe a surprised look and Joe said hastily, "Not like that, Mac! Jesus, get your mind out of the gutter."

"Don't want to," Duncan muttered, his eyes drifting back down Methos' body.

Methos couldn't help grinning at that. Duncan was caught and all he needed to do was reel him in. Joe was obviously going to be a harder sell.

He slid down further in his seat and, cocking his head sideways a little, arched an eyebrow at Joe. His gaze caressing, Methos picked up his bottle of beer again and licked a circle around the opening before closing his lips around it. Tipping the bottle up, he swallowed the next gulp of the beer, knowing how nicely the lines of his neck were stretching in the process. He lowered the bottle and slowly sucked the bottle tip further into his mouth, daring Joe to protest. When Joe didn't -- couldn't -- say anything and merely licked his lips, Methos knew he could focus back on Duncan again.

He placed the bottle back onto the table and looked back at Duncan, who was, as expected, staring with opened mouth. "Like this thing I do with my tongue?" Methos said, smiling broadly. Inwardly, however, he snorted. So Duncan did notice how he had been giving beer bottles pseudo-blowjobs just to attract the Scot's attention.

Duncan grabbed his own bottle and took a large gulp, for a moment looking like he would choke, but luckily didn't.

Picking at a loose thread of his sweater, Methos focused his gaze on some random point on the wall. "Temujin was so good that even I learned a few tricks under him."

"Like?" Duncan's voice was half breathless.

"I still remember that time when I was sitting on top of one of the men with my hands and arms bound behind my back, and another would be fucking me from behind. I'd be stretched so taut and full and Temujin would be fucking my mouth...." Oh, yes, Duncan looked like he was downright going to come any second now, and Joe wasn't that much better either. Jesus, this was so easy. "Gods, I can almost feel them in me right now, so hot and pulsing... Mmmm."

Duncan gave a strangled whimper. His golden skin had acquired a sheen to it that hadn't been there a few moments before and his pupils were so dilated, his eyes appeared almost completely black. Methos smiled and stretched languidly.

He looked into Duncan's eyes, holding them as he went on, keeping his voice soft and deep, "God, I can still taste him...." He licked his lips. "The taste of that big, hard cock pushing over my tongue, into my throat so far all I could do was swallow it. Salty and musky and...delicious." The beer bottle again, as much a phallic substitute as he could make it. Besides, his own mouth was getting a little dry.

Another whimper, Joe this time. Methos grinned to himself, not dropping his hold on Duncan's gaze for a second. If Joseph got off on watching, let him watch this.

He had his eye on the main prize.

Methos leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, totally unsurprised when Duncan mirrored him. They were inches away from each other now and Methos could smell the arousal shimmering off the Scot in waves.

"I can smell how much you want me," Methos said.

Duncan blinked. "What...?" His voice was rough.

"He'd tell me that as I sucked him," Methos purred. "Tell me he could smell how much I needed him to fuck me, how every part of my body was his alone to do with what he would. That no one else could give me what he could."

Duncan was breathing hard now. "Yes?"

"To make me come," Methos whispered. "No one else could make me come like he could -- no one else was allowed without his permission. No matter how much I begged. 'Please, please,' I'd beg him," he said as he rubbed the cool beer bottle over his face and condensation ran in a little stream down his neck to his chest, "'please, let me come.'" He smoothed his hand over the path the fluid had taken, arching his throat and letting his head fall back a little so he could look at Duncan from under his lashes. "And then finally, when I thought I would die from wanting it, he would say the magic word and I would come like I'd never come before, come like I would never stop."

"Magic word?" Duncan rasped, so close to him now that Methos could smell the faint ferny smell of his pre-come.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

Methos leaned in closer, almost but not quite close enough to kiss. Tilted his head as if for a kiss and said in a breathless whisper, "Yes." Duncan shuddered, and his eyes rolled back in his head as his body jerked. "Oh, yes." Perfect.

There was a soft, "Goddamn," from his left, but he didn't look at Joe, just wanting to drink in the beauty of Duncan's arousal, his perfect, shattering orgasm.

Oh, yes, my pet, he thought with affection. So sweet, and so easy.

He stood, stretched legs that were a little stiff, and eased jeans that were a little tight. He tossed the towel over Duncan's lap, where a slight stain was already visible. "You might need that, MacLeod." Then he bent over and whispered in his victim's ear, "Kilts hid so many...sins, didn't they?" Duncan stared at him with glazed eyes. Soon, Methos knew, Duncan would remember that he should be embarrassed, and Methos wanted to leave before that happened.

Joe was clutching at the table with rigid, white knuckled fingers. "I'll be by to collect later," Methos said to him, unable to keep a little sultry promise out of his voice. Joe nodded jerkily.

Methos grinned to himself as he sauntered out. What it was to be happy in one's work, he thought.

The end

Tritorella has written a delightfully smutty Methos/Joe sequel, read it here...