Title: Redemption

Author: BuffyAngel68

e-mail: bufyangel68@yahoo.com

Fandom: HIghlander

Pairing: Macleod/Methos

Rating: NC-17.

WARNING: Graphic, open, straightforward sexual language.

Fandom: Highlander

Summary: For Peja's First Time Challenge. This is my take on how Duncan and Methos might first have become lovers. I placed this a few weeks after Richie's death. Think of it as a missing scene from the series, I suppose. This was one of the first pieces of slash I ever wrote, period. It's old, but I've gone back and cleaned it up considerably. I only ask that you be kind. Honest, but kind.

Redemption
By BuffyAngel68

Seated at his breakfast bar, Macleod sipped at a a mug of cooling coffee and toyed with the majority of the late lunch he'd prepared an hour before. Unable to rid himself of the dour, brooding mood he'd slipped into, he rose, wrapped and refrigerated the food, reheated his coffee and took it and a thick volume of Robert Browning to the living room couch.

Before he'd even had time to seek out one of his favorite verses, he sensed Methos slipping in downstairs, trying to be unobtrusive, even if he couldn't go undetected. As his friend quietly opened the second floor door that led from the stairs and peeked around the corner, Mac spoke harshly to the older man, knowing his words flowed from his black funk, but finding he could speak from nowhere else.

"Get out. You're the last thing I need right now."

"We have to talk this out. I have to be sure you understand...."

"You did that earlier. Leave."

"Not before I know you and I are on the same wavelength about this morning."

Finally lowering his book, Macleod fixed his friend with a stare that could have liquified glass.

"Don't stick around waiting for it."

"I didn't.... God. What the hell else can I say except I'm so damned sorry. I'm not some sicko voyeur. You know that."

"I thought I did."

"How can I convince you I'm not.... what you think I am? It was a lark. I admit, I took advantage and I shouldn't have, but...."

"Excuses don't change what you did." Mac countered, rising and striding back to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge, desiring a stronger buzz than the coffee was providing. "I'm not hateful. I don't remember ever having spoken a bigoted word in my life. I'm not pissed that you're gay. I'm pissed that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"That's what I'm trying to get through your twelve inch thick skull. I'm not gay! I'll swear on anyone's grave you name; I am not gay!"

"How can I believe you after...."

"Let me explain?"

Though his scowl only deepened, Macleod nodded, moving back to the couch and motioning Methos to a chair opposite him.

"At last! Thank you. Look. You can't actually think I came here this morning expecting to catch you getting your rocks off. That just happened. As for the rest.... You would have known I was there, but I've learned to suppress my recognition signal when I don't want every immortal in three states knowing I'm around. I've gotten in the habit of damping when I go out in public, and sometimes I forget to reactivate it. I know. I should have said something..... Boy. This is the difficult bit. You have such an incredible body. I'd sell my soul to be ripped like you are, if I was sure I had one. Seeing every inch of that body.... your face so wrapped up in joy, so ecstatic.... my body threw the switch on the fog machine in my brain. I couldn't stop.... "

Laughing bitterly, Macleod turned on the sofa until he could no longer see Methos.

"You're just making my case for me."

"Are you going to let me finish?"

Shaking his head, Mac responded without turning back.

"Go on."

"Five thousand years is a hell of a long time to be young and virile, Mac. It wasn't always legally, or morally, possible to find a willing woman. When I got desperate, and I mean really, really, desperate, I decided to experiment. You do what you have to, you know? I found out there were things I'd never even heard about that were.... pretty incredible. I still love women, and I always will. I just realized I'd changed and I needed a new name for what I felt I was becoming. I picked omni-sexual. I like a little of everything except S & M. I much prefer the pleasure without bucketloads of pain. Thank God my first partner was knowledgeable and sensitive enough to show me the ropes without.... scaring me to death and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Damn. I'm sorry, Mac. I assumed you'd.... I mean almost five hundred years. I thought.... You haven't even had a mild, ships-in-the-night taste, have you?"

His friend's silence and the visible tension in his shoulders were all the answer Methos needed. "Not once in all that time. No wonder you freaked. I could tell you how great it is from now until the Gathering's come and gone and it wouldn't make a difference, I know. I just.... are we alright again? Now that you understand, I mean."

Finally facing his friend, Mac responded.

"Yeah. Better anyway. It was instinct. I get it."

"Instinct and a best buddy with the body of Adonis."

Methos caught the pillow launched from the couch just before it impacted his forehead, returned serve and backed out of the room chuckling. "I'll be downstairs having a workout and a sauna if you want to talk."

*************************

Four days later, Methos was sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a laptop computer on his knees, trying intently to concentrate on the paper he was attempting to write, but having no luck. Since the morning at Macleod's he'd been unable to push his best friend completely from his thoughts. Just as he'd finally found a bit of productive focus, however, an unrelentingly persistent phone caller ejected him from his creative zone.

"Hello, damn it!"

"If that's the way you answer your phone, no wonder you never get any messages."

"Mac! Hi. Sorry. I was writing. Break in the flow of creativity and all that."

"Can you side-track the work for a while?"

"Why not. What's up?"

"I.... I need to.... I'll be over. Thirty-five minutes, maybe forty."

"Since when do you stutter, Mac? Give with the real story."

"When I get there."

Before Methos could get another word out, Macleod had disconnected, leaving the other man with the dial tone buzzing in his ear.

***********************

"Hey. What's the gym bag for? Doing aerobics are we?"

"I don't know yet."

"You don't know. Did you pack it?"

"Of course you twit." Macleod growled back, tossing his bag behind a chair and pacing weird patterns among the furniture.

"Mac. Mac, will you stand still for a minute and talk to me? What's the bag for?"

"Not yet. I agree. Talk first."

"If you're saying what I think you're saying, we could be talking for a couple weeks."

"I don't care." Mac responded laconically, dropping into a chair finally and pulling his baseball hat down low over his eyes.

"Okay. The three-word sentence, meet-the-caveman act is already old. What's going on with you?"

It was several more minutes before Macleod even moved, throwing his hat on the table, and another one or two before he found the words he wanted.

"I miss them."

"You'll never believe Tessa and Richie weren't your fault will you?" Methos asked gently.

"I won't accept something that isn't true."

"This won't work. Not now, not the way you're feeling. Depression and longing for the past are rotten, pointless reasons for making a major life change, Mac. It has to come out of a passion; out of a love of life and wanting to be and do more. You can't even see those reasons from where you are right now."

"Sex is as much as about comfort as it is about passion."

"Wrong. It has nothing to do with comfort. Comfort I can provide. We'll see about the rest when your state of mind's back on the up escalator and you're seeing things a bit more clearly."

Through the rest of that day and far into the night, the two friends talked, ate and played music and forgot why Mac had shown up in the first place. Near dawn, Macleod realized he was laughing more easily and relaxing more deeply than he had in weeks. When the original purpose for carting himself the forty or so miles to Methos' loft drifted back into his head, he found the desire to learn all his friend might want to teach him was as strong, or stronger, than it had been when he'd started, but was now flowing from his heart and his body instead of his battered, weary soul and mind.

"Dear Lord. It's nearly four in the morning. You ready to tell me what's in the bag?"

"Clothes. Shampoo and soap."

"Why?"

"Great. Serious conversation. I stink at this."

"Why?"

"I.... I don't...."

"Stuttering again. Time to get some sleep. You can head home in the morning."

"Don't I get a minute to think?"

"This isn't a game show, Mac. This will change you for good and ever. If you can't face that now, then get some rest and come back when you can."

Suddenly terrified, not understanding why his feelings on the subject had jumped from one extreme to the other, Macleod grabbed his bag and strode to the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob. Methos, sensing his turmoil, gave him one last shot.

"Why?"

"I need this. I need to stop grieving over what I've lost and get on to what I could have."

"Go buy a new car."

"Damn you... Since Richie, I've been lost. I can't be a part of anything anymore. I fight when I have to, but otherwise I'm a hermit. I don't live. I just sit around and.... be. I wasn't only blowing up at you the other day. I was mad at me too.... scared about how down I've been lately. If I'm gonna do a 180 and start all over, this should be a pretty interesting first step.... and I trust you to help me take it."

After a long moment spent studying Macleod and gauging the real level of his commitment, Methos smiled.

"Accepted. The spare bedroom's all made up. Go get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"But... you...."

"We've both been awake for almost fifteen hours, and we've been drinking. Not exactly impeccable conditions for any kind of exciting encounter. Go to bed."

"Well. I guess if you're about to become my sexual sensei, I should start the "I hear and obey" stuff, huh?"

"Damn right."

Smiling himself now, Macleod, turned and headed toward bed.

Chapter 2:

(Chi-te is my own idea. I figured if karate = empty hand and chi is energy, put the two together and get energy hands. I actually think I got the idea from "Karate Kid" and put a name to it. Weird, I know, but then I am a strange one. Frequently and deeply.)


DAY ONE:

"I know my cooking is better than you make it look. Having fourth and fifth thoughts are we?"

"No. None."

"I wouldn't blame you if you were. Perfectly natural when you're considering altering your whole viewpoint on life."

"Seriously, I'm not. Out here, I'm fine. I just don't know how I'll feel once I'm in there."

"Trust me to be a good judge of when you're wimping out and when you're really scared. You're free to back out any time you feel like we've hit something you genuinely can't handle. Any time before the finale that is. By the way, how many changes of clothes did you bring?"

"Two. Why?"

"I thought as much. You'll need at least a week's worth. We'll do laundry as needed and you can borrow from me."

"A week?"

"Could be longer. It depends how tense you get and how long you fight me off before you manage a passing grade. You helping with dishes?"

Silent, his expression dark and uncertain, Macleod picked up his plate, dumped the remainder of his breakfast and grabbed the dish sponge hanging over the sink.

"When do we start?"

"After cleanup. That includes both of us. I'll shower down here. You can use the one upstairs. Good job on the pan."

"I cook too."

"Yeah, but apparently you've forgotten how to eat." Methos reproved gently.

"I'll eat. When I'm not as nervous as Howard Stern on an island full of FCC censors, I'll eat." Macleod joked uneasily, as he finished the last utensil and dropped into its compartment in the drainer.

"Relax. We won't do all that much this morning. Go wash. I'll meet you in your room in half an hour or so. You've got a pair of sweatpants?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Just those. Don't bother with anything else, including briefs. Just the sweatpants."

Purposely ignoring Macleod's concerned expression, Methos turned and strolled into the downstairs bathroom, knowing Mac would have to overcome his fears on his own, or his guilt and angst would keep him a hermit forever.

*******

When Macleod made it back down to the bedroom, he found Methos waiting for him, dressed exactly as he was. Fourth and fifth thoughts popping into his head, Mac hesitated in the doorway.

"Get in here, will you? What do you think I'm going to do anyway? I'm not Medusa or a serial killer."

Still scrubbing his hair with a towel, Macleod slowly entered the room and dropped to the bed beside Methos. "Better. Now, I need to know a few things."

"Such as?"

"Let's see. Start off with what you think you know."

"About.... this? Except for the obvious, the basics are the same."

"In general, you're right, but it doesn't feel like any other sexual experience you've had. I can't describe it well enough. Hopefully, you'll hang in long enough to find out what I'm saying."

"Next?"

"What do you really like? What sets your blood on fire and makes you spit ashes?"

"God, man...."

"Don't expect Keats and Byron, Mac. I'm as direct and straightforward in bed as I am at any other time. Now give."

"I.... I don't know what you want."

"Do you really want examples?" Methos chuckled. "Talk."

It took nearly two more hours and several more declarations of disgust and shock from Macleod before Methos felt he knew his friend's likes, dislikes, wants and needs well enough to begin his first lesson.

"Good enough. Lay back on the bed."

When Macleod began to tentatively loosen the tie on his pants, Methos stopped him. "Whoa. Simon didn't say strip. At least not yet. Just get up there so your head's on the pillows."

A curious look briefly crossing his face, Macleod complied. "Now close your eyes. This can be loads of fun if you play by the rules."

"Rules? Hate them."

"Yeah, I know. But there are only two. First, whatever I ask, you do the best you can and in a reasonable amount of time. Second, stay as relaxed as you possibly can. The looser you are, the better everything, and I do mean everything, will feel. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good. We're starting with a deep tissue massage." Methos replied softly as he climbed up to kneel beside his student on the bed. "Don't freak on me for what I'm about to do, it doesn't mean anything yet. I'm going to put one knee on either side of your hips so I can reach your upper body easier." he explained, watching the clock for a new minute to start. When it did, Methos began rubbing his hands together briskly and continued the process for the next two minutes. Recognizing what he was doing, Macleod raised his head and threw a questioning glance toward his instructor. "I take it you've never had a masseuse use chi-te? Well I do. You'll appreciate the difference, I guarantee it." he commented dryly. At the precise moment the two minutes ended, Methos applied the now red hot palms of his hands to Macleod's chest and began to squeeze, rub and work the heat into his friends pecs, arms and upper abs, ignoring Mac's whines of protest. "It'll get better. Give it a minute, you wimp."

Though skeptical, Macleod conceded, and was shocked when Methos was proved right a moment later. "Okay. Over. Your shoulder really needs work. I can see the knots from here."

The massage continued for another thirty minutes, with Macleod receiving one more application of intense heat for each side. When Methos turned him face up again, Mac found his expectations of more thoroughly soothing massage shattered utterly.

Only moments after he'd settled onto his back, he was bathed in the exertion heat radiating from Methos' body as it was slowly lowered near his. A moment later, a skilled, moist tongue began to circle and tug and perfect teeth gently gnaw on his nipples and the flesh around them.

"What the hell do you...."

"Hush. You'll get your turn. For now, I want impressions. Talk to me. I want to hear how it feels." he said, returning to his work.

"I can't.... Stop. Please. I'm not ready...."

"I think you are. This is nothing, Mac; not compared to the final exam. I'll stop if you really want me to, but you answer three questions first. Does it feel bad? Are you in pain physically?"

"No. It... feels good, and I'm not in pain."

"Then it's fear. Can you get past the fear?"

"I.... Yeah. I can."

"Then do you want to go on?"

The answer took longer to come this time, but it did.

"Yeah."

"Good. Now," Methos repeated, interrupting himself just long enough for a sustained lick from Macleod's navel to the base of his throat. "Tell me how it feels."

"I.... I don't have the words."

"I don't either. It's your experience. Be the imaginative writer I know you are... and narrate." Methos suggested as he went back to his ministrations.

"God.... I don't.... it's so strange. It's like.... ah God.... it's like sparks showe.... showering my body, and erupting from.... inside at the.... unhhhh.... at the same time."

"Cold?"

"God no! I'm so.... it feels like a.... 102 fever...."

"Perfect. Exactly how it should be. Damn, I wish you could know the taste of your skin the way I do, now. It's dark and rich.... bittersweet chocolate. Utterly luscious. Like lapping up warm cocoa off the saucer...."

Sliding backwards a few inches, Methos positioned his chest over Macleod's hips and began working his tongue into and out of the other man's navel, sucking, nipping and tugging on the remnant of birth cord as he would have on a woman's most tender flesh. He continued his attack there for several more minutes, despite the erection he could feel growing beneath him. At last, he raised himself to his knees again and, noting two or three damp spots on Macleod's sweatpants in the crucial area, decided the lesson should end.

"Okay. Up you get. Time to end the lesson on a high note."

"What..."

"You didn't think I'd leave like this did you? What kind of a caring teacher would I be if I did that? Sit up."

Grabbing his hand, Methos helped Macleod to a sitting position again, then reached out and loosened the cord on the other mans sweatpants himself.

"Go on. It's nothing I haven't seen, and done, before. I'll even provide the verbal stimulus."

Reluctantly, and only because he knew the consequences if he didn't gain relief, Macleod slid one hand down over his abs and under the slack waistband of the pants, beginning to stroke himself slowly.

"The most gorgeous creature you can possibly imagine is standing not two feet away from where you sit, sliding the straps to her silk nightgown down her shoulders. It falls to the floor and she comes to you. She kneels in front of the bed, slips a soft hand between your legs and starts to pump your cock while her other hand milks your balls, one side then the other until you can't take it any more. You're so hard, you know you don't have much time. You feel the climax starting. You can't hold off. Your cock jumps in her hand as she speeds up, knowing exactly what you want.... what you need. You come and come until you're completely drained, over.... and over....and over."

Listening to Macleod's whimpers and moans, Methos found his control sorely tested, but he held himself in check, willing his body to wait until he was alone and could create his own fantasy world that would relieve his tension.

"Atta-boy. Better now?"

"Much. But these pants need washing."

"So do you. No need to shower again unless you want to. I think localized cleanup will do before lunch."

"And after lunch?"

"What else? Lesson 1, part B. Go wash."

*****

"C'mon. Let's go. The dishes are done. That means lunch is over. Into the guest room, grasshopper."

" 'Kung Fu' references. You've been watching TV again."

"Like you don't. You're stalling. Go."

Once in the bedroom, Methos jumped onto the bed first this time.

"Am I supposed to guess?"

"It's my turn to receive. I'm curious about your technique, your style, that kind of thing. This is pretty much the way it will go for the week, by the way. The mornings we'll reserve for your instruction, the afternoons will be all yours to show me how well you paid attention. And how creative and inventive you can be as well."

"You can't be.... you are serious. You expect...."

"Hey. I'm an inanimate object as far as you're concerned. It's up to you to.... breathe life into me, so to speak. I'll just be lying here, waiting. Just remember that me falling asleep while you hem and haw won't exactly earn you an A."

For several minutes, Macleod did exactly that, pacing the room, gathering his courage. When he felt the other man's weight drop onto the right side of the bed, a smile spread across Methos' face.

"Glad you could make it. You can start anytime."

"Chi-te isn't a pre-requisite, I hope."

"Not at all. I don't need the sedation as badly as you did, anyway."

"Right." Macleod commented distractedly as he maneuvered himself into position. "You start getting excited right now and I'll slap you back to year one...."

Slitting his eyes open, Methos grinned evilly.

"Not a chance, grasshopper. My erections are an honor earned, not given, and you haven't started earning anything yet."

Dragging two fingers slowly down Methos' smooth, heavily muscled chest, Mac found himself sporting the same grin.

"Wouldn't want to be labeled an incorrigible student. Let's see what I can do about getting that good grade...."

Reaching for a bottle of softly perfumed lotion on the night table nearby, Macleod pumped a generous amount into one hand then split it between both palms, warming it before applying it to his friend's skin. Fifteen minutes later, he was still rubbing and stroking the liquid into Methos' chest, arms and shoulders, wanting to be absolutely sure it had all been absorbed before he began using his tongue. Feeling his fear trying to assert dominance, Mac shoved it down as far as he could get it to go and allowed his knees to slide backwards, dropping his body near his teacher's. Bracing himself on his fists, he stared into Methos' face for several seconds, persisting until the other man's eyes opened.

"I.... I don't know.... what would you...."

"Just try it. Whatever you liked. Any interesting thoughts that come into your head. I'm open to suggestion."

"You asked for it, remember...."

Dropping his face near the other man's torso, Macleod drew a deep breath through his nose, shocked at the bolts of lightning his friends clean male aroma sent shooting throughout his body. He was pleased a moment later when the licks and gentle kisses he laid under Methos' jaw caused a slow intake and release of breath and a stretching back of his teacher's neck, asking for more. Macleod obliged for a moment or two, but soon moved his attentions higher, thoroughly wetting the interior of both Methos' ears then using streams of warm breath to dry them again. When his licks stopped suddenly near the corner of his teacher's mouth, Methos tried to encourage him to continue, but was forced to resort to speech to ascertain the problem.

"What? Why did you stop?"

"Can I.... Is it alright to...."

"Kiss me? Absolutely. In fact I may throttle you if you don't."

Unsure at first how aggressive would be too aggressive, Macleod's forays were tentative and slow until a hand wrapped itself in his hair and pulled his head down, a slick hot tongue wending its way past his lips and beyond his teeth. Barely registering that his hands were busy with Methos' nipples, Mac pulled all his focus into the kiss, working his tongue back the other direction, thoroughly enjoying the battle and fusing his mouth to the one beneath his until oxygen deprivation forced them apart.

"Damn.... Mother-May-I was never so much fun." Methos coughed out, gently removing Macleod's still busy fingers. "I know you were rather involved, but...."

Finally noticing the warm dampness beneath his hips, Macleod immediately lifted his weight up and off. "If you'd do the honors this time, I'd be grateful." Methos requested, sitting up slowly to avoid cramping vital muscles he'd need in the next few moments.

"Why not? Where did we leave off? Oh yeah. Realizing you're still hard as a rock, she pushes you back on the bed, but she doesn't move from where she's kneeling. As she pulls you into her scorching mouth and starts working her tongue around and around the head of your prick, you draw in a deep sharp breath. You can't let it go until you feel yourself letting go. You feel like you're hyperventilating, one breath coming with each spurt down her throat, until it finally stops and you slip from her mouth."

"We're just piling up laundry aren't we?" Methos joked.

Macleod smiled.

"Time for you to wash locally. I'll do the clothes and sheets."

"Deal."

Chapter 3:

(NOTE: The French translates as "Let's go, my exceptional student. It is time for your second examination. I was going to use the word test, but, surprisingly, it stayed the same in translation and I thought it looked wrong.)


DAY TWO

"It's up to you. I told you that. This is really about what you want. Can I make a suggestion, though?"

"The questions."

"Fast learner. Are you anticipating pain?"

"No, of course not. I know perfectly well...."

"Can you move past the fear?"

"I think so."

"Yes or no. Can you move past the fear?"

After a brief hesitation, Macleod answered affirmatively.

"That's the point of all this. Yeah, I can move past it."

"Do you want to go forward?"

A longer hesitation followed, but produced the same answer.

"Yes."

"Alright. Then do as I asked."

Tensing, trying to hide the fact that he'd begun to shake, Macleod slid down and stepped away from the nylon running pants he'd worn to that morning's session, and climbed onto the bed.

Joining him, Methos took note of his student's fear and spoke to it.

"It's tough, I know. It only gets tougher from here. I know how strong you are. I think you can go cover to cover on this, but it's your opinion that counts. If you think I'm pressuring you, just tell me to back off and I will."

"You don't pressure. You teach."

"Ready for lesson two?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Okay. New positioning today. I'm going to be kneeling between your legs this time.... if I can get you relaxed enough to get your legs apart that is." Methos complained, finally resorting to tickling Mac behind both knees to get him loosened up. "There. Much better. Now. Think of performing a meditation, how you draw every atom of yourself, every bit of concentration into your breathing. I want you to use that same focus, but this time put it here." Methos instructed, placing both hands, palms down, at the juncture of Mac's thighs. "Everything you can spare, all your emotion, your thoughts, everything. I want you to direct it here. Let the room... the entire world go away. Focus expressly on what I'm doing, how it feels. No distractions, nothing to pull your mind away from what's going on right.... here."

One hand on top, the other underneath, Methos began to stroke Macleod slowly, and with as light a touch as he could manage.

"Vocalizations are not only welcomed, they're encouraged. We're well isolated so feel free to scream, yell, swear. Matter of fact, inventiveness in that area could even earn you extra credit."

Despite the invitation, for the first few minutes, Macleod merely squeezed his eyes shut, fought his body's urge to twist and squirm with the sensations Methos was creating and nearly bit through his lower lip with the effort of staying quiet.

"There's nothing to be afraid of here, Mac. If it feels good, let the feeling out in words. Just let it out."

"Can't.... No..."

Sensing the warrior in Macleod fighting against what he truly wanted to happen, Methos, though he knew it to be terribly cruel, used the one guaranteed tool he had to get the man below him to talk; he removed his hands from Macleod's body completely. The response was immediate.

"No! You can't.... Please...."

"Please what? Tell me what you want. What is it you want me to do?"

"I.... I can't say.... Please."

"I'll do anything you want, but you need to talk to me. I'm right here. All you have to do is try, Mac. Just try."

"Please.... I need your.... your hands.... on me."

"Good. Good man. Here?" he asked, tracing circles around Mac's nipples.

"No.... God, don't do this...."

"Here?" he repeated, this time running his fingers lightly over his student's lower abs.

His need and frustration out of control, Macleod did exactly what Methos had been trying to goad him into; he grasped his teacher's wrist roughly and propelled the attached hand between his legs.

"Stop playing games and touch me!"

"That's the right answer. You've earned it, now lay back and enjoy it." he praised, resuming his stroking at a faster speed and with a firmer grip.

"Yesss. God... yes."

"Feel good?"

"Incredible. Totally..... Oh no. Stop. I'm close, you.... you have to.... God, stop!"

"You're safe, Mac. Just let it go. I can feel it. It's on its way. Don't be afraid of it. Let it happen. A little closer now. Let it go. Let yourself go. Say what you're feeling. C'mon. I know you can do it. Don't be afraid, Mac. You don't have to be afraid."

"God.... I.... more.... please, more. Faster. Oh.... no. I.... I'm coming.... I'm coming.... no..... no...."

"Here it comes, Mac. I'm right here. You're alright. That's it. That's right. It's okay." Methos reassured, speeding up his movements until Macleod's taut flesh began to jerk in his hand, fluid arcing high into the air, most of it falling on Methos' chest and face.

"That's it. Great job. Fantastic. You did it. Marvelous boy." Methos commended, slowing his touches now, his intent to calm and soothe. "Just relax now. Breathe slow and deep."

"Damn. How could you just let me...."

"It's a part of the process. The ecstasy in your eyes was worth it. I'm proud of you, grasshopper. A plus."

Conflicting emotions playing rapidly across his face, Macleod jumped from the bed, grabbed his pants and nearly ran from the room.

****

When lunch had come and gone and Macleod was still nowhere to be found, Methos, unsure of precisely what might be going through his friend's mind, gave him an extra half hour before actively searching him out. He found him under a small tree in the side yard, leaning against the trunk, knees pulled up to his chest. An open book lay on his lap, but instead of reading it, he seemed to be engrossed in the fluctuating patterns of light and shadow the leaves above him formed on the grass. Laying a gentle hand on Macleod's shoulder, Methos prepared himself to be shaken off, and was greatly relieved when Mac allowed it to stay.

"Is it time?"

"No. You coming in for lunch?"

"Sorry. I didn't realize I'd been out here that long. I got a little.... lost, I guess."

"Just a little. If you want, we can stop for today and pick up tomorrow where we left off."

"No. That's part of why I came out here. You were right. I am changing. I've always seen myself as this immense, powerful thing.... like a two-ton truck that noone could challenge and get away without at least a few bruises. Then I realized I've just been covering up the weak spots. Under the paint the rust has been eating straight through. I've been living in a really, really dark place lately. Did I tell you I've been taking a Valium a night for more than a month now?"

His hand tightening on Macleod's shoulder, his voice a mixture of anger and concern for his best friend, Methos answered quietly.

"No. No, you bloody well didn't. You should have."

"I couldn't sleep. I tried all my herbals, all the homeopathic formulas I had in the house. Nothing worked."

"Why didn't you call...."

"Let me finish. I brought the pills with me when I decided to drive here. I laid one out on the nightstand last night, figuring I'd try to relax a little before I gave in and took it. It was still there when I woke up this morning. Light was still on too. I fell asleep before I could turn the switch. That was the first time in over a fortnight I've been able to sleep without medication." Macleod confessed, laying a hand over the one on his shoulder. "I'm ready to cut out the cancer and get healthy again. Being here, going through what I am, is doing that. A dose of fear and embarrassment won't kill me, but if you hadn't come to the dojo, if you hadn't agreed to.... I'm not so sure I wouldn't have gone out looking for a stronger Immortal.... and a fight I hadn't a chance in hell of winning."

"I never would have let you."

"Oh. So now you're psychic as well as a sex expert."

"I knew. That was the real reason I came to see you that morning. We hadn't talked on the phone and you hadn't come round in days. The last time you'd called, you didn't sound anything like you. I just had a feeling you needed somebody."

"More than I knew. You mind if we go in now?"

"Lunch?"

"Later. Lesson first, food after."

***

"You can keep them on. It's fine with me. They're loose. They won't restrict your movement too much." Methos offered, stripping off the jeans he'd worn for the earlier lesson and getting comfortable on the bed. "Allons, mon étudiant exceptionnel. C'est le temps pour votre deuxième examen." he tossed out, smiling as Mac joined him, settling between his instructor's knees. "Remember, I'm not a rookie. I ask for what I want, and I'm not shy, so try not to have a meltdown, okay? Just do the best you can."

Drying his sweaty hands on his pants, Macleod studied the problem before him. After a few minutes of remembering what had been the most successful with the women in his life, he drew a deep breath to calm himself, pumped a small amount of lotion into his hands and began running them up and down Methos' thighs, kneading and caressing as he went, drawing closer to his goal with every upward stroke, but deliberately taking his time getting there.

"Mmmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. Nice overture, now let's open the curtain shall we?"

"Hey. The stage manager's a little shaky. It's his first.... opening night. He'll get it together. Give him a minute...." Macleod replied as his lotion covered fingers finally reached for and wrapped around Methos' still soft prick.

"Good. Firm up your grip a bit. Right. Oh, yeah. Lord.... for a beginner.... you're really not bad."

Following his own, hastily drawn up, plan Macleod remained silent, letting his hands say everything as he rubbed the side of his thumb across the head, slowly and firmly. He then began to rub the pad of that thumb in tight circles while the other hand slid up and down the entire length. In only minutes, he felt the flesh in his hand rising and stiffening faster than he would have believed possible.

"Dear.... Don't have to.... tell you much.... I see..... Look. Just stroke now.... okay? Steady on. That's.... mmmm.... that's the way. Wha.... whatever you do..... don't stop.... even.... even if you get scared.... just.... don't let go.... faster. That's it. Faster still. Yeah..... God.... I'm coming... now.... now.... hold on, Mac. Just.... beautif.... oh, oh... oh yeah.... it's there....."

Seeing, and feeling, how close Methos' climax was, Macleod began using a hand over hand technique, following one caress with another, continuing up to and through the final moments of his friend's release.

"Goo.... good God. What the bloody hell.... was that.... and will you do it again?"

"I took things Tessa and Amanda used to do... and I adapted."

"Really. Damned righteous adaptation. Shower this time, hmm?"

"That's a given."

Pushing himself up, Methos grabbed Mac's hand and covered it with his own.

"You're really doing incredibly well. This isn't birthday cake and lemon ices, I know that. Keep leading with your heart. It's the easiest way to get through."

"All I want to get through to just now is food, so if you'll excuse grasshopper, he's going to wash his wings."

Chapter 4:

*********

DAY THREE

"Listen. I'm really glad you're eating again, but two servings of steak and three eggs? Good grief...."

"Do you realize how much you've taken out of me in the past two days? Besides, I'm not going in swimming. Let's just.... get on with it, alright?"

"Halt. Stop. Explain something to me. Despite the fear and the strain you are getting some pleasure out of this, right?"

"Yeah. You know I am."

"Then what's the last-place-I want-to-be attitude about?"

"That's not it at all. The tougher this gets, the more I have to fight myself, and it's really tiring. I'm just starting to get real sleep, remember?"

"Of course I do. That was quite a revelation about the pills, my boy, and trust me when I say that there will be a penalty for lying to me."

"Do I really want to know?"

A wicked grin creeping onto his lips, Methos decided to stay cryptic.

"I haven't decided yet... All I'll say is it won't hurt. Much. You know what we're up to today, right?"

"How could I not? Logical progression."

"Once again, logic has nothing to do with sex. It's supposed to be about totally abandoning yourself to the illogical, irrational half of your brain. Total release, complete and utter passion. If you could just split off from the stuffed shirt, dignity-is-life part of yourself, you'd get it. Until you do, this will always be terrifying and difficult."

"You don't know what you're saying."

Walking to where Macleod stood, Methos grasped his student by the biceps, holding him in place firmly as if he were afraid Mac was about to run for cover.

"Yes. I do. It's as easy as thinking, "That feels good". Your body will take over from there if you let it. Your hips will move, the words will just be there.... You'll have the orgasm you thought didn't exist."

A disturbed look crossing his face, Macleod tried to turn away, but wasn't allowed to.

"I haven't seen a real one out of you yet, Mac; a real orgasm that rips through you like a double edged sword and an earthquake hitting you at the same time. I keep waiting for some sign that my touch or my words are getting all the way to the deepest part of you, where you live, but so far, nothing. Why? How do I get there, Mac?"

Realizing he was still getting less than nowhere, Methos had just decided to continue with the lesson, despite his student's emotional distance, when an idea flashed across his mind.

{Fighting yourself, hmmm? Time you had someone else to focus on... someone who isn't out to kill you that is. You've got your stronger immortal, Mac, but this battle you're guaranteed to win...}

Abruptly, the older man's demeanor and tone of voice changed dramatically as he put his thought into practice.

"Spread your feet." he growled.

"What in...."

"The lessons begun. Move the feet, son, or I move them for you."

"What the hell's happened to you...." Macleod asked, backing off a step or two, but to no avail as his teacher followed.

"Look. You wanted this. Now stand the hell still.... and spread your feet." Methos repeated, his voice now holding a dark, dangerous undertone as he dropped to his knees inches from Mac's legs.

The sudden shift in Methos' tone and attitude shocked Macleod enough to get him to comply before he'd really considered what he was doing. Before he could, a warm wet tongue wrapped itself possessively around the head of his penis and squeezed with considerable strength. Unsure of what to do about the predicament he found himself in, Macleod tried desperately to concentrate, to think, but soon became lost in the strong sensations being created below his waist.

"Why are you acting.... I don't understand.... My god. What are you.... Wait. Don't..... please don't." Macleod pleaded, knowing he'd receive no answer. As Methos' tongue swept over and under his prick and strong muscles sucked vigorously, he felt his erection grow until it seemed as if he were stone from the point of contact outward. His condition only served to cause his teacher to increase the intense stimulation until Macleod achieved release in his mouth.

Softening, Mac tried to pull out, but was stunned and unnerved when Methos wouldn't let him go. Drawing his student back into his mouth, he began the slow, patient process of bringing him to orgasm a second time.

"No.... Get.... stop!"

When he tried to physically push Methos away, Macleod found his hands pushed down to his hips and held there by his teachers own exceptionally strong hands, while Methos aroused him again, taking his time, as if assured that he would receive no resistance. Several minutes later, Macleod came again and was drawn back a third time. Determined to fight, he struggled, but realized that Methos was now kneeling directly on his feet and that his hands were being held tighter than even a moment before. Though he tried to continue the battle, he was soon drifting in a red haze that seemed to hang closely around his head. Every nerve in his body suddenly seemed to end between his legs. Unaware, at first, that anything about his behavior had changed, gradually Macleod realized that he was thrusting his hips forward and back, moving himself in and out of Methos' mouth of his own accord, and the voice that started off distant and inaudible slowly became recognizable as his own.

"God, yeah! You.... you're great! Su.... harder! God, don't stop! Harder!! Now! I.... I'm coming now!"

Language degenerating into whimpers, moans and wordless cries, Macleod came in his teacher's mouth for the third time in an hour. Though little remained for him to give, Mac pumped until the need and the crimson haze evaporated. Growing soft, he slipped away from his instructor, and this time Methos let him go, supporting Macleod down to the floor as his student's fatigue weakened knees betrayed him. Gently stroking his side, he spoke soft praises until Mac's eyes closed.

"You're alright now. You're just fine. You did well. Rest now. That's right. Rest. You're so strong, so strong. Breathe slow and easy. Good man. I'm so proud of you."

In only minutes Macleod was deeply asleep, curled up into himself. Pulling necessaries off the bed, Methos slid a pillow under Macleod's head, placed one for himself, threw the blanket over both of them and settled in to get some sleep and let his strained jaw recover.

******************

The first to wake, nearly six hours later, Macleod panicked for a moment, unsure where he was or how he'd gotten there. Eventually, however, the gears began to mesh in his brain and he vividly recalled the hour before he'd fallen asleep on Methos' guest room floor. Feeling his friend's weight against his back, Macleod reached behind him, found the other man's hand and pulled it to him, laying it across his hip. A moment later, he felt the hand slide up and down his leg.

"Hey. What time is it?"

"Almost five."

"Whoa. I wore us both out."

"Now there's an understatement." Macleod joked as he sat up and turned over, throwing off the light blanket as he quickly positioned himself over Methos. "My turn?"

"No. I had planned on it, but...."

"Then why the change of heart?"

"You don't know, Mac. If nothing else has scared you off, this will. It's incredibly difficult to do your first time."

"But there does have to be a first time."

"Not necessarily. I said I wouldn't push anything on you. This morning... it should never have happened that way. I'm sorry."

"No. I said I wanted this and I meant it. I just got... overwhelmed. I put up a mental block and you helped me get around it. I understand why you did it that way and it's alright. Now. Am I going to get a few tips on surviving this little adventure, or not?"

"Yeah. If you're absolutely sure."

"Absolutely."

"Okay." he responded, sitting up. "First thing is, watch the teeth. Cuts and scrapes are inconvenient on hands and face, but distinctly harder to deal with in sensitive areas. Next. When the time comes, you won't be ready, I guarantee it. Nothing can prepare you for the panic; you feel like you're choking, drowning.... between one moment and the next you've got something in your mouth that's inches longer *and* bigger around than when you started. Everybody's first experience giving head is an exercise in terror. No way around it. When you sense I'm about to come, start swallowing even before you taste anything on your tongue or feel me move. It's the only way to keep your gag reflex from tossing its two cents in, though it may anyway. It depends whether the taste and texture really, really turn you off."

"Encouraging when we first wake up, aren't we?"

"Would you rather I'd lied and left you to face the reality of it without any warning?"

"Of course not. If you don't mind, I'll skip the on the knees part. It looked exhausting." Macleod offered as he stretched out on his stomach at a right angle to Methos' hip.

"Whatever you need to do. My job is just to enjoy, remember?"

"Why not? I did." Mac responded as he started his part of the lesson with a tentative series of short licks from the outside of his teachers' hip to the inside surface of the thigh, almost, but not quite, reaching the still soft cylinder of flesh, as his courage briefly deserted him. "Don't give up on me, okay? I'm trying."

"I know that. Take all the time you want. If you make it or you don't, it's okay this time."

His voice leaving him now as the fear increased, Macleod didn't bother to try a joke, even knowing it would relax him. Shifting around between Methos' legs now, he shoved his negative voices into a tiny corner of his mind, pillowed his cheek on his teachers' right thigh and finally made his first stroke up the length of Methos' prick.

"Mmmm. Niiiice. Very. It won't break off, Mac. Try another, a little harder this time."

Macleod complied, the encouragement emboldening him enough to add a little variety, sweeping lightly over the top, then stronger as he moved along the vein on the underside.

"Ooooh. I like it.... Really like it. Keep it up.... so to speak."

Noticing a small drop of fluid at the tip, Mac seized the opportunity to prepare himself for the taste that was about to flood his mouth, and by extension, all his senses. When he licked the head directly, Methos drew a short, loud breath and arched his back. Macleod, grinning, knew he'd done something right and promptly did it again, as much for his own pleasure as for his teacher's, finding he liked the taste a great deal. With his next lick, Macleod drew the head and an inch or two of Methos' firm, rising flesh into his warm mouth and continued his tongue attack as best he could. A little later he took more, and more a few minutes after that, until he'd done as much as he physically could.

"Holy.... O.... okay, Mac. Gr.... great job.... I'd start swallowing.... now! Move with me... I'll try to stay still.... but I don't know.... God.... It's happening!"

Thanks to the warning, Macleod began to swallow just before he felt a wave of hot fluid wash over his palate. Breathing heavily through his nose, he managed to just keep pace with the rate the semi- gelatinous liquid was flowing onto his tongue. Matching Methos' rhythm, Mac settled into an easy motion with his head, slowing when his teacher slowed, stopping and releasing Methos when the spasms ended.

"Another A plus, grasshopper. If there was any better grade, I swear... you'd have it. You are so great. Thank you. Absolutely amazing."

Macleod smiled, appreciative and proud that he'd persevered and achieved the day's goal, but the smile vanished all too quickly, his mind jumping forward to the difficulties the next day would bring.

END PART 5