Disclaimer: Children, what are you doing in here? Get out of here! It features angst and entertaining and disturbing graphic descriptions of men doing sexual things both with and without consent. If you don’t like that sort of stuff, or know you are too young for it, I know www.broderbund.com has some fabulous games, including Myst and Riven. I hate both of them. But hey, if that’s what gets you going, go there. Oh, and I don’t own any of these characters. I’m just borrowing them for a little storytelling. They are all owned by Rysher, and the rest of the people with the money. I don’t have any. I do, however, have an overactive sexual imagination and a good grasp of how to drive a plot home. Oh, dear, that didn’t come out quite right . . . oh, well.
Send comments to address above. I welcome constructive criticism. That’s all, no baiting this time.
“The Stampeding of Lady Bastable,” by Saki (H. H. Munro)
“Give it up, barbarian. You lost,” grinned Darius wickedly.
Duncan groaned, and let Darius crush him into the bed. “Darius, howcome you never just ask? Does it always have to be the conquering Roman?” He moaned at the pleasure of the older man’s experienced touch as Darius ran his hands over Duncan’s chest.
“Of course. Rome’s greatness must always be recognized. In her church, in her generals - you could just give up as soon as you walk in. Hail the conquering hero.” Darius laughed, and let his hands travel down farther, resting lightly between Duncan’s legs, claiming his prize. “Of course, someday you might beat me at chess, and then, of course, I would give myself to you.”
Duncan snorted. Like he was ever going to beat the 2,000 year old chess master. “But someday, you should try asking. You might like it.”
Darius shrugged. “I might. I promise, Duncan, someday I will just ask you to go to bed with me.” He smiled softly. “But for now, surrender your treasures, barbarian. Rome conquers all- again.”
“Darius,” Duncan moaned. Then a harsh slap brought him out of his pleasant stroll down memory lane to the present. “What?”
Methos slapped him again, harder this time. The soft brown eyes of the oldest Immortal had turned icy, and his thin face winter white. His breathing was ragged and shallow, as if he were in shock.
Duncan sat up, the tangled sheets pulling uncomfortably on his still-hard cock. He stared in bleary confusion at Methos. “What’s wrong?” He could feel Methos’ anger. Not just jealousy, it was mixed with a cold hard rage and something that felt like fear. “Methos?”
The voice that spoke was not the Methos Duncan knew. The voice was much older, and Duncan was reminded again of how little he knew about his lover. Methos was speaking a language Duncan could barely understand. Latin, he thought. The way the Romans spoke it. Alarm bells went off in the Highlander’s head.
“Methos? Is this about Darius?” he asked gently. He barely had time to dodge another slap, but the torrent of words, this time in a completely different dead language, confirmed his answer. Duncan reached out to grab Methos’ hands. He didn’t feel like taking a beating tonight. “Methos, listen to me. Darius and I, we-” His hands were slapped away. At least Methos wasn’t going for his sword. Some part of him still knew where he was.
“I hate him! Don’t speak his name! Don’t tell me about him!” This came out in Old Gaelic, and Methos still seemed completely unaware of what language he was speaking. More angry words, in Renaissance Italian this time.
“Methos! Calm down. I can barely understand you.” Duncan tried to grab him again, meaning to pull his lover close and comfort him, but Methos ripped away and scrambled off the bed .
“I understand you! You fucked him, didn’t you? Safe on holy ground, grinding your cocks together like a pair of rutting dogs!” This came out in almost modern French, and Duncan could hear the hatred dripping from every word.
“Yes,” said Duncan. His response was a bit guarded. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was.
“Did he ask you?” screamed Methos, still in French. “Did he give you a choice?”
“Methos, please --”
“I was a slave! I just wanted to read books! And he knew! He knew I was an Immortal, but he raped me over and over again because he could! The proud Roman and his tireless Roman cock! He enjoyed the thrill of having a submissive Immortal to sate him, one that couldn’t fight back, and one that wouldn’t die. No one like that changes, Duncan. No matter how many years he spends cowering in a church--”
“Methos.” Duncan’s growl cut through his tirade.
“Hit a sore spot, did I? How it must have hurt to seen his headless body, surrounded by all those holy books. Well, I hated him in Rome, I hated him in Paris, and I still hate him. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was the day Peter came to tell me what he’d done-- ”
“Peter? You were on a first name basis with Horton?” Duncan moved, fueled by an utter and absolute fury. He’d forgotten about the fact that Adam Pierson had been a Watcher at the time of Darius’ death. He was fast, but not fast enough to pin Methos. “Did you set him up? Did you?”
Methos was shaking. He had plastered himself to the wall, as far away from Duncan as he could get. “No, no, I didn’t. I just- I hated him so much, Duncan.” Methos seemed to be pleading, and had finally rediscovered modern English. “What he did was wrong! Not just to me, but to all the other slaves he used and destroyed. No one could forgive him. I certainly couldn’t.”
“Did you try? Did you ever talk to him? Did you ever meet him? After he changed? Did you ever give him a chance?”
“Duncan-”
“He was killed, on holy ground! By a bunch of lunatics who thought they were saving the world from evil! And you helped them.”
Methos shook his head. “No, I was neutral in the Watcher split. Peter never even knew what I was working on.”
“Then why did you have to talk to that bastard at all?”
Methos stared at Duncan, without seeing him. “Like most tyrants I’ve met, he wanted to get into my pants.”
Duncan looked as though he’d been stabbed.
“I wasn’t a slave anymore. I didn’t have to give anything to anyone. At least Peter Horton understood what I meant when I said ‘No.’”
Duncan got up and walked out of the bedroom. “I need some air.”
Methos crumpled to his knees, rocking slowly on the floor as soon as he was gone. He was too drained to cry. Duncan and Darius- his stomach twisted inside him, and his vision went black for a moment. That the memory of Darius could still do that to him, after all these years. It was definitely unhealthy. Hysterical laughter started to fill him. Maybe he should see a therapist. “Excuse me, I was brutally raped a long time ago, and I still haven’t dealt with it. How long ago? About 2000 years, a little bit after the death of the Christ.” The laughter escaped him, filling the loft until it pounded his ears. He paused for breath, which came in short, pained gasps. Methos tried to think, tried to get past the specter of the idly smiling Roman General, to see the hurt in his lover’s eyes. How could he ever explain?
“Don’t worry, I’ll return you to your master’s house at sunrise. Such loyalty...my slaves never look at me that way. I’m almost jealous.”
How was it Methos couldn’t remember most of the words of his native tongue, but every word that damned Roman had ever said to him was imprinted for an Immortal eternity in his brain? Maybe because you liked it, whispered a dark voice from somewhere deep inside him. After all, isn’t that why you stayed with Kronos?
Methos screamed, trying to drown out his memories, his mind, his guilt, and his shame. He barely felt Duncan re-enter the room. What a pitiful way to be seen, his mind whispered. Perhaps he’ll be merciful and kill you, put you out of your misery.
But Duncan surrounded him with warm arms and a soft voice, trying to soothe him instead.
Duncan could feel that he wasn’t reaching him. He hated this feeling, being unable to protect his lover from old pain. Screams continued to fill the loft, and finally Duncan broke down as well. “I’m sorry, Methos, I don’t know what to do.” His tears washed down his face and began to fall onto the smaller man. “I’m sorry.”
The screams faded away, as Methos’ will to live slowly returned. But he still couldn’t come out his shell. How could Duncan stand to touch him? Was this love, then? What was this thing between them that not even the all the ghosts and specters of Methos’ past could destroy?
“Damn, Adam, you’re wasted down here in the library. Why don’t you let me take you out for a drink sometime?”
Methos smiled. And if you knew what I really was, would you still ask so sweetly? “Peter, my research is valuable to the organization. And, I like it in the library.”
“Oh?” Horton raised an eyebrow. “Up against the stacks, or bent over a desk?”
Methos let his laughter fill the spacious halls of the Watcher library. “Oh, Peter, I really left myself open for that one, didn’t I?”
“You do that a lot. I can never tell if you’re flirting or just being dense.”
A vague little smile played around Methos’ lips. “I’m not dense, but you don’t have a chance, Peter. You’re not my type.”
Horton leaned over the table where the man he knew as Adam Pierson was working. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d still like to know which way you like it.”
Methos met his eyes, then raked them slowly over Peter Horton’s solid blond body. “Perhaps I may tell you someday.” He snapped his book shut. “But not today.” He made a graceful exit, noting Horton’s frustrated sigh with pleasure. Oh, you still have it, old man.
“Don’t fight so much, little one. I promised your master I’d return you alive.” Darius forced another finger into Methos, murmuring in pleasure as the slave underneath him screamed even louder. “Harder, little one. I want to see you come.”
A burst of energy ripped through the smaller man, and he fought wildly to get away. He managed to slide himself off Darius’ hand, leaving a bloody stain on the General’s toga. His legs would not support him, after so long in one position, and he ended up on the floor.
“Spirited,” smiled Darius, “but ill considered.” He reached down to pick up the slave again, but the boy slapped him, and twisted away. Darius grabbed an arm, and easily broke it in his powerful hands. “I will start over now. And if you hit me again, I will break every bone in your pretty little body.”
The slave kicked him in the groin, mindless of the pain in his arm. Darius grunted, and reached out to grab the boy by his short hair. The boy continued to fight until Darius stood, and jerked his head roughly to one side. There was a sickening crack, and he felt the boy’s Immortal presence fade. Darius considered. There would be no glory in taking the Quickening of someone so young and weak. But on the other hand, he still had sixteen hours to go before he had to return the boy to his master, the Senator, as he had promised. An evil grin split the Roman’s face. He tied the boy’s arms to a ring set in the wall, and he settled himself to wait for the boy’s life to return.
“Oh, Adam, guess what I did today?” Horton’s triumphant voice filled Adam Pierson’s small office. He closed the door behind him, completely filling the space between the desk and door.
“Mm...found God,” Methos guessed. He still loved to tease Horton.
Horton licked his lips. “Very close.” He leaned over the desk, close enough to inhale the faint scent of Methos’ aftershave.
Methos didn’t back away. He was intrigued. Horton looked...post-orgasmic. His face was flushed, his eyes were bright. Something like bloodlust was slowly fading from his eyes. He let Horton stay where he was. “I can’t guess. What?”
“You’re not even going to try?” said Horton mockingly.
“I’m the tease, Peter.” Methos knew that using his first name would get his undivided attention. “So tell me what you did, and I’ll tease you about it, hmmm?”
Horton sat on the edge of the desk. “I killed an Immortal.” He wasn’t prepared for the researcher’s reaction.
Methos shot upright, and his face paled with fear. “What? Who?”
Horton mistakenly thought that the brilliant but unworldly student was afraid for him, a mistake that led to rather interesting consequences. “Oh, Adam.” Horton reached out and lightly trailed a finger down the narrow face. “I wasn’t in any danger, it was the old peacemaker, Darius.”
Again, he wasn’t prepared for the reaction his words got. Methos stood quickly, ignoring Horton’s hand and letting it come to rest on his hip. Methos’ eyes lit up. “Darius? You- you killed Darius?”
“Yes. Adam- are you all right?” The tiny, timid student looked rather unsettling. As erotic and beautiful as ever, but almost dangerous in his present intensity.
Methos drew the mortal into a hard kiss, trying to bruise his gratitude onto the other’s lips. He couldn’t find words to thank him, he knew that. He could never explain, but he could please. He could thank Peter Horton without words, for doing what he himself could never have done.
Horton didn’t know what to think. He’d been chasing Adam Pierson for years, but none of his fantasies had ever gone this way. But who could argue with such a beautiful, sensuous mouth? Especially when it had latched onto your own, and was currently doing something magical and probably illegal with your tongue? He groaned in delight as soon as the researcher let him up for air.
Methos smiled at the sound. “On the floor, hard,” he whispered into Horton’s ear, before he trailed his tongue around the outside of it, and sucking the lobe into his mouth.
“What?” Horton could barely think. Methos had crawled onto the desk, and now his small hands were stroking down Horton’s body, teasing his nipples, and doing a million other things all designed to prevent any sort of rational thought.
A beautiful laugh escaped Methos. “Don’t you remember? You asked me how I liked it in the library.” He looked deeply into Horton’s eyes. “I like it on the floor, hard. You can do that, can’t you, Peter?” And then he kissed Horton again, wrapping his body around Horton’s, finding an answering readiness to his own in Horton’s swollen cock. He slid his hands down to Horton’s belt, undoing it and ripping it off in one smooth motion so that he could open the mortal’s pants and free his straining cock. Them Methos slid down Horton’s body, readying himself for a display of gratitude that the mortal would never forget. Horton gasped as Methos pulled him free of his clothing. Methos dropped to his knees, and kissed it reverently before taking it all into his mouth.
“Adam! God!” Then all speech dissolved into groans and gasps as Methos put all of his years of experience sucking cock to work for Peter Horton’s pleasure.
“Who would think such a little thing would have such a will to fight?” murmured Darius. He licked away the blood trailing down from the wound on his cheek. He picked up another spike. The boy continued screaming, and trying to wriggle away. “I warned you. Did you think I was joking?”
“No!” he screamed. “I thought you were human! I thought you would eventually tire of this! Leave me alone!”
Darius tilted his noble Roman head to one side. “Human? I am as human as you are. And when you stop amusing me, I will tire of this game. But I suspect that you will be back with your master before I tire of you.” He smiled. “But now...” He drove the spike into the floor near the boy’s left leg, and secured him with the ropes as he had with the right. The boy was invitingly spread out and restrained on the floor, his hands bloody from the rough hemp tying him to the wall, and his cock and anus were now easily accessible. “My legionnaires deserve a reward for all their hard work. If you like, you can pretend to be enjoying yourself. Otherwise, just think of the good you do for Rome- think of all the others who will be spared because we are busy with you.”
Duncan’s tears on his face brought him back. Why would Duncan be crying? No one would ever hurt Duncan. Duncan wasn’t a slave. He was a warrior. He had honor, and that protected him better than any shield or any weapon. Not like Methos, who had held black evil as a close friend in his heart, and had sold his soul and his body over and over again, simply to survive.
“Shh, my love. That’s not all there is to you.” Duncan listened in horror as Methos kept talking. “No, you have wisdom, and learning, a beautiful voice, and a beautiful soul. You just need time to heal, you have me to help you. I want to help you. I want...” Methos had finally stopped talking, and was simply resting his head on Duncan’s chest, listening to him talk. “I’m yours, Methos.” Duncan lowered his head to kiss his lover on the eyes, then the cheeks, then his nose, and finally the lips. “I cannae leave you, nor you me. So share your pain wi’ me, and let us heal it together.”
Methos closed his eyes slowly. “Kiss me again, Duncan.” He raised his head, offering his slender throat, but Duncan kissed him full on the lips, tangling his large hands in the other’s short fine hair. Methos returned the kiss gently. “Take me to bed, Duncan. Let me sleep.”
Duncan kissed him again. “As you wish, my love.”
“Stay with me, please. Just- hold me. While I sleep.”
“Aye, anything.”
Duncan picked him up, and carried him to the bed. Methos liked to sleep in the exact center of any bed he was in, curled up like a kitten. Duncan wrapped himself protectively around the smaller but infinitely more dangerous man, and watched him drift off to sleep before sleeping himself. No dreams from the past woke either one.
*.*
Morning came, filled with promises and blessings. Methos awoke to find Duncan staring down at him. “Good morning, Duncan.” He wriggled up and kissed Duncan lightly on the lips. Duncan didn’t respond, except to put a warning hand on his shoulder. “Something wrong?”
“Are ye jes’ goin’ to pretend that nothin’ happened?”
Methos stiffened. But years of experience came to his rescue, and he relaxed almost instantly. “It’s worked before.”
“Well it won’t work now.”
“Duncan-”
“No!” Duncan got out of bed. “No, Methos, we will talk about what happened. I will tell you how scared I was, and how it made me feel to know that I had hurt you-”
“Duncan, it wasn’t you!”
“No?” Duncan turned on the bedside lamp, and leaned over Methos, who still sat huddled in the center of the bed. Now Methos could clearly see the bruises and the scratches covering Duncan’s face. “It felt like I had hurt you.”
Methos raised a slender hand to stroke Duncan’s face. His pale eyes had gone wide with shock. “Oh, Duncan, I’m sorry.”
“Do you need reminding, old man? I said Darius’ name in my sleep, and you-” Methos’ hand stopped moving. “You did pretty much what you’re doing now, only more violently and in more dead languages that I could count.” Methos let his hand drop. Duncan sat down. “So you tell me what happened, how not to have it happen again, you talk to me. Or take my head, whichever is easier for you.”
Methos’ head snapped up. “Duncan! Don’t say that.”
“All right, we’ve established that you won’t take my head, but that you will freeze up if I mention Darius, and slap me around if I mention that we were lovers, and friends, and that I still miss him.”
Methos took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and carefully. “Then don’t mention him.”
“He was my friend, Methos. What he did to you was in his past. I think you would have liked him after he changed.”
Methos growled. “I don’t.”
“I forgave you for the crimes of your past. What makes Darius so different from you?”
“I didn’t have to kill a good man to see the error of my ways.”
Now it was Duncan’s turn to snarl. He stared into Methos’ eyes. The warmth of his good morning kiss was slowly fading from him, leaving the cold ice to face Duncan. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want another fight. He wanted reconciliation.
The two Immortals stared at each other for a long time.
“Love hurts, doesn’t it?” said Duncan finally.
Methos dropped his eyes to the bed. “I don’t want it to be this way.”
“Well, this is how it is. We have to stay together, until one of us dies. And I love you, so it’s not as hard as you think it is to stay here. So unless you’re going to kill me, I suggest you learn with live with me.”
“Stop saying that!” Methos shook his head, as if to clear the sound of Duncan’s words from his head. “I’m not going to kill you. I- I need time, Duncan.”
Duncan sat down on the bed again, pulled his lover close. “Then you shall have it.” I will give you all the time you need to make new memories, he swore silently. Methos melted into his arms, drained by the emtotions that he had barely kept under control for so long. Duncan wished he could start on those new memories right now, by kissing Methos all over, filling the smaller man with his cock until they both found some measure of release, but Methos was crying. Another time then. His love was still with him, and for now that had to be enough.
Followed by: War Dogs