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HET WARNING – Although a Methos/Duncan slash story, this work
also involves a pairing of Methos and an original female character. There is heterosexual (if a little kinky)
sex in this story. The OFC is not a Mary
Sue nor based on anyone I know personally (her physical description is based
on a woman I saw parking her SUV in the Kroger parking lot – do I have to
disclose that?) but rather an homage to all slash writers This plot was given
to me in bits and pieces by people who had no idea it was going to be used in
this story, to them I express great thanks.
My friend, Julia, and my husband, UD, helped with the beta. Of course, these characters do not belong to me; they belong
to Davis-Panzer. Please also note that
this story is set after HIGHLANDER: ENDGAME but makes no attempt to predict
anything from the Highlander movie currently being filmed in 2005. Thus the story will eventually be “out of
canon,” but hopefully was not too far astray when it was written. This story is rated ADULT! A FINE WOMAN Methos sat quietly in the small, airless room. He dug his hand into the pocket of his
jeans and extracted the long key that opened the Swiss bank safety deposit
box. He held it in his palm as it
warmed, as if heat was necessary to break the seal. Even after he inserted it in the lock, he
waited. Why, he wasn’t sure. There wasn’t that much inside. Most of the valuables he collected over the
centuries were stashed in more secure places.
These were just a few items he had had to quickly place in the mid-1990’s. They
had sat in the bank vault for thirty years, because he’d had no reason to
think about them any further. There were deeds for three islands, any one of which he might
have lived with Alexa if she had survived. One was in Georgian Bay, one in the Much of the rest was just “stuff”. Items he had picked up on his travels with Alexa. He knew
they had no value but couldn’t just throw them away. Now they were old and useless, even for
invoking memories of her. As he forgot
those days with Alexa, the pain had gone, too. He picked up the silver bracelet Rachel had brought to
him. Grave robbers had again found the
burial place of Debra Campbell.
Fortunately Rachel had chanced upon the bracelet before it reached the
open market and bought it herself. Not
knowing The final item was a small blue velvet box. He held it, closed, for several minutes
then slowly flipped up the cover. Even
in the subdued light of the viewing room the center stone sparkled. It was a two-carat fancy-pink diamond in a
heart-shaped cut. He had brought it
for Alexa but she had never seen it. By the time he returned to Now he knew, and he still couldn’t believe it, Aaron Dawson
was going to give a woman named Elaine Graham an engagement ring sometime
during the holiday season. Normally
Methos would have been very happy that Joe’s grandson had found a woman with
whom he would like to spend the rest of his life, but Aaron Dawson was the
persona under which he had been living for the last fifteen years. Methos was seriously thinking of getting
married for the 70th time and part of him was still terrified. *
* * * * The Super-Sonic-Shuttle from The trans-Atlantic flight was no longer long enough to read
more than a few chapters in a book. Furthermore he had a very busy day ahead
of him. He closed his eyes and tried
to find sleep. When he could not, he found Elaine. Methos had moved to He purchased an old three-story limestone house and a
bookstore in the That is how Elaine entered his life. She came in looking for a book. She was a
first year graduate student who had taken five years off after her
baccalaureate and spent her time teaching Greek, Latin and Mythology to
elementary school students. She came
in looking for parallel texts of some of the Greek works she had to master
for her classes. He carried them, of
course, but convinced her that translating them herself, no matter how long
it took, would result in a much better understanding. With a parallel text you were at the mercy
of the translator, and your take on the Greek words might be entirely
different. She listened and walked
away without a purchase. He never expected to see her again. But he ran into her one night in a small bar. She was very, very drunk doing an
approximation of a two-bladed kata with a couple of
pool cues. He had to admit that sober
she might have pulled it off. It was
obvious that she had studied martial arts, but not for a while. Feeling a concern for the safety of both
Elaine and others, he did what none of her equally drunk compatriots had done
– attempted to take the cues away from her. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that you could put someone’s
eye out playing with sharp sticks?” He
said softly as he put his arm around her to keep her from falling. He was not entirely successful. She fell against him. She smelled like the latest popular
tropical-fruit cordial college students were drinking. “It’s the book store man.
Hey guys, this is the man responsible for my level of fluency in
classical Greek.” Methos looked at her
friends. He had sold most of them
parallel texts. It was only Elaine to
whom he had chosen to stress the importance of self-translation. “I got a
fellowship. No more waiting tables.” “Does that mean you don’t need a job in a bookstore? I’ve been thinking of hiring someone to
manage the classical section.” He had
no idea where the words or the idea came from. He just knew at that moment, he had to rely
on something other than chance meetings in bars to see more of this woman. “Maybe?” He hadn’t
heard that word said that way for over twenty years. * * *
* * * Even before going through customs he checked his
messages. There was one from Elaine
telling him that she was just too busy to go with him to visit Joe. He understood. Two jobs, university classes, research,
Kung Fu classes, getting ready for Christmas would fill up the time of two
normal women. Elaine still had time
for him, if not always for his grandfather.
Furthermore she sang off-key. He stared into the optical scanner that matched the markings
on his iris with that of Aaron Dawson and allowed him to proceed. He always wondered why they never caught
that they also matched the readings of three other names that he had used on
other passports. He had realized that
this technology would take over identification and had the scans done
early. The new scanners were more
exact, but he was safe for the present.
Most of his traveling was done as Aaron, but Adam Pierson, Benjamin
Adams, and Peter Wood lurked in the wings. He worried slightly about the ring he had tucked in his duffle
bag. The papers he carried were for an
inexpensive pink cubic-zirconium stone, the man made equivalent of the
masterpiece of nature and diamond cutting he carried with him. He had paid a significant amount of money
for the ring in the mid-1990’s and could only imagine how much a similar ring
would cost now. Perhaps he should not
tell Elaine that it was real, she might be afraid to wear it. It passed through customs without a comment. A covering of fresh snow sparkled in the low-angle afternoon
sun. Aaron plopped his bag on the
shelf of the airport train and headed back towards Joe’s assisted living
residence in Schaumberg. There wasn’t
enough time to return to * * *
* * Joe was sitting in his wheel chair, guitar tuned and ready to
go. He beamed a huge smile at the man
he now called his grandson as Aaron walked into the room. Methos noticed that Joe sported a new lap
robe . . . a new tartan lap robe . . . a new MacLeod tartan lap robe. For a second he wondered and then chalked
it up to coincidence. He made no
comment as he pushed his grandfather to the common room for the annual
Christmas concert. The festive decorations and beautiful music seemed to help
hide the fact that many of the residents were growing old far from their
families and friends. It was the
hearty souls who didn’t leave The duo had been performing for residents since Joe had taken
his apartment in the Senior Living section of the facility. Everyone loved Joe’s music, but when his
grandson joined in it became almost magical.
They presented the usual repertoire of Christmas music, Joe’s with a
smoky blues edge and Aaron’s with a clear baritone. They had to do “Little Drummer Boy” twice
the applause was so loud. Methos wished he could have kept Joe at the house with him,
but Joe refused to be carried up the stairs.
When he became too frail to walk on his artificial legs, he had moved
to a flat in the complex. Later he
moved to the assisted living section.
Methos knew that it would be just a short time before he would require
nursing home care. He hated the fact
that Joe was mortal and now eighty-years-old.
Years of wear and tear starting on the football field, ending with the
“Watchers” with Methos surveyed the crowd.
He thought he saw smiles on the faces of many of the elderly
residents. There wasn’t much left for them to think about but their own
deaths, and still they smiled. Did
they know something about death that he an immortal would never know? He knew when he died it would be violent,
but to them death might bring peace.
There was something about just falling asleep and not waking up that
had a certain charm to it. He blinked
his eyes and tried to think of happier thoughts. He involuntarily touched his forehead. A buzz.
Someone here was immortal -- someone standing just inside the door at
the rear of the room and smiling very softly.
That someone was Duncan MacLeod.
A chill went down his spine. He
had not seen his former lover in a quarter of a century. Mac looked just the same . . . hot. Tall and fit with those dreamy brown
eyes. His hair was long again and
pulled back, the way Methos always liked it.
Mac was wearing a soft brown leather jacket and a white sweater,
almost as if he had gotten dressed out of the closet in their apartment when
they lived together in Seacouver . . . or was it *
* * * It turned out, Methos discovered, when they returned to Joe’s
small living area, that Mac had been living in They shared a couple six-packs of a local Scottish Ale, and
eventually Mac had to go to the bathroom. “Down the hall my friend, mine is full of dirty laundry and
medical supplies. Wasn’t ready for
visitors.” Joe stated as soon as he
saw the look on Methos wondered, he had never seen
Joe’s bathroom look anything but spotless.
Either the man was growing careless or . . . he sat and squirmed as he
waited for Mac to return. He had to
go, too. “Do you think Mac found the key? You might want to see if he needs any
help.” Joe had an expression Methos
recognized – all too well. Mac was standing in the hall outside the guest lavatory shifting
his weight from leg to leg and trying to hide the fact that he was stroking
his penis through his loose pants.
Being an immortal does increase bladder size, and Methos figured Mac
must have had a few drinks before coming to the facility . . . or at least a
few cups of coffee. Methos smiled sweetly.
“Got to go bad, I see.” “Someone’s in there.
It’s locked.” “Yes, they keep it locked.
Key is up on the top of the door frame. It’s to keep the old coots in wheel chairs
from going in there for a quickie.”
Methos snatched the key and unlocked the door. “Me first,” he said as he ducked in front of MacLeod and
unzipped his pants. He didn’t get the door shut soon enough. Mac had followed him into the tiny restroom
and pulled him into his arms kissing him deeply. He had had to pee; now his penis had other
ideas. “I stink. I just
shuttled in from “I noticed. Good thing
the old folks are losing their sense of smell, and I like my men a little
stinky.” Mac said as he unhooked Methos’s belt and jeans and lowered his boxers. “Think the sink will hold you?” Methos would have done it holding on to a grab bar. Mac was already pumping the antiseptic soap
on to his hands, his cock, and Methos’s ass. It was man-sex hard and rough with the
cold stainless steel sink pressing into Methos’s
groin. Despite his fears that he might
have forgotten how good it felt, Mac obviously remembered what excited him. Just as Mac was about to shoot his load
into his ass, and Methos, his into the sink, Mac reached around and turned on
the jet of warm water which soothed Methos aching cock. “That’s a new trick.” “Learned it somewhere.”
Mac said with a smile in his voice.
“You’ll be nice and clean when I suck your cock.” “I suggest we adjourn to the coatroom, we don’t want the line
to get too long outside.” “Maybe.” “And I do have to pee.” “Use the sink.” “No.” Fortunately no one was waiting as they walked out together. On a cold December afternoon the coatroom was almost as in
demand as the restroom, and it had no lock on the door. Still Methos had faith in Mac’s ability to
rise from his knees and help some unsuspecting relative who wandered in on
their tryst to find her coat. It had
happened before, a long time ago, at a large cocktail party. Methos braced himself on the back wall, wrapping his large
hands in * * *
* * * A long hot shower upon his return to his house removed the scents
of the flight and the afternoon, but not the memories. He sat naked at the table staring at the
ring for a long time. He needed time
to work it out. He needed to see He mixed some caramel-apple martinis and had them waiting when
Elaine returned. She loved those crazy
drinks with the odd names. The
cock-sucking cowboy was another of her favorites. Gods, what would she think if she found out
her boss, roommate, and lover had been fucking and sucking all afternoon. There were a lot of things he hadn’t told
Elaine; his bi-sexuality was only one of them. He had made-up some hair-brained story about how his parents
had been involved in some genetic manipulation experiments in the 1980’s,
resulting in them dying young and him not aging at the usual rate. He was not sure she bought it. She was twenty-six when she met him and
thought thirty-five was old. It would
be a few years until she noticed. He
had plenty of time to tell her about that.
She had noticed that he seemed immune to even minor coughs and
colds and was sometimes forgetful about using condoms. He’d not told her he couldn’t father
children. Elaine seemed to have had
her fill of children in her years teaching.
It would be a while until that became an issue, too, and he figured it
could easily be solved with some banked sperm. Duncan MacLeod was a more difficult issue. Mac had given him no indication that he
wanted more than a quick and hard afternoon fuck. After 25 years it would be stupid to think
that he wanted to resume the relationship that had quickly evaporated in
Kate’s presence. They hadn’t discussed
Kate. For all he knew Mac could still
be living with his long lost wife, just a little horny, or if this afternoon
were any indication, a lot horny. It
would be wrong to end the relationship with Elaine just to
. . . perhaps . . . be with Mac. He
had time. He drank a beer, then another.
They, together with the time change, the darkness, his afternoon
orgasms, and stretching out on the couch, finally induced sleep. * * *
* * * * When he awoke he realized from the smell of coffee that it
must be morning. For a second he
thought it might all have been a dream, but was unsure where the dream
began. Why was he sleeping on the
couch? Who was making the coffee in
the kitchen? He didn’t know what he
hoped for, but sat up rubbing his eyes. “He moves.” Elaine’s
soft voice answered his questions. “I
tried to get you to come to bed when I got home and couldn’t rouse you. I would have sworn you were dead. Glad to see I was wrong.” She brought a tray of coffee and sat it on the ottoman. She took hers and sat on the floor at his
feet, looking up with her big green eyes.
Her eyes were soft and gentle, wise and flashing, and looked even bigger
when she wore her huge-lens glasses.
Her hair was still wet from the shower and hung in waves around her
narrow face. Elaine had her own
style, her own beauty, both outside and within. They were friends long before they were
lovers, and now he was afraid that both the affair and the friendship could
come to a bitter end. “Those Swiss Misses wear you out with hot chocolate
kisses. Tempt you to bed with promises
of diamonds.” Why was she talking
about diamonds? Did she suspect? Had she gone through his stuff and found
the ring? Elaine wouldn’t have done
that, it had to be just a good guess. “Come up and sit by me, honey, its cold on the floor.” “Move over a bit then.” “I . . . oh, damn it
Elaine, I don’t know where to start or what to say.” “How about Merry Christmas two days early.” “That’s not what I meant.”
He gulped the hot coffee which burned all the way down and served as a
way of avoiding further conversation. “I have a gift that came in the mail. You want to open it early? I can’t wait to see . . .” Elaine was ready to continue even if
he wasn’t. “Why not?” Elaine’s
gift would give him some indication of where she thought the relationship
stood . . . before this
afternoon. He hoped it was a
book. “Be careful. It’s heavy
but it only looks breakable.” The package was about a foot long and four inches square,
definitely not a book. It was
carefully wrapped and invisibly taped.
He balanced it on one knee and wished for the days when only ribbon
secured packages. The gift-box was
lined with soft foam surrounding a velvet bag. He refrained from making an off-color
comment about what it looked like and extracted the contents. It was what it looked like – an oversized
glass dildo. He knew his face dropped.
He didn’t think that his penis was that much smaller than the dildo
and here was the woman he was going to ask to marry him telling him she
needed more to satisfy her needs. He’d
never suspected. She’d never
hinted. He had no idea what to say,
especially when he noticed that she was beaming from ear-to-ear as she
watched him handle it. “I’m sorry, Elaine. You
should have told me. Not that there
was much that I could . . .” “It’s from the 1990’s.
Older than me . . She seemed to have no idea that he was
upset. “I always thought . . .”
“I could have purchased one of those modern ones, but this one
reminded me more of you. More like a
work of art.” “Elaine. . . “ “What? Don’t you like
it? Is it too big? I thought it was just about the right . .
.” “It’s just, I don’t mind at all, but you could have said
something. If I don’t please you . .
.” “But you do.” “So why did you buy yourself a dildo.” “I didn’t buy it for me, I bought it for you. I am going to use it to fuck you. That’s your Christmas present.” * * *
* * * Methos lay prone on the bed.
Once again Elaine had showed him a talent he could only have dreamed
she possessed. He was amazed at her
ability to lubricate, slowly stretch and inset the dildo carefully and
sensually into his rectum. That was
not something she had learned from her ancient Greek scripts, for they had
preferred interfemoral intercourse. She had had to read about it
somewhere. She had loved the way it
made him hard and she had sucked him off with a new vigor while he was still
impaled on the glass wand. It had been
a long time, since the group sex days of the 1960’s and 1970’s since he had
had this experience, and this time it was with some one for whom he really
cared. Now Elaine was showering, washing her hair again, and cleaning
the dildo. He could hear her singing
off key, Christmas songs. It was so
easy to love her, if it were not for Duncan MacLeod. She came back in, turned him to his side, and spooned in
behind him. She rubbed her pubes
against his firm ass and pinched him until it was pink. “You liked that didn’t you?
Thought you would.” “You did?” “Or at least I hoped you would.” “I did. It was
wonderful. You were quite skillful.” “Thought about getting a strap on so I could cuddle against
you and fuck you like this.” She
thrust her hips against him and wrapped her arms around his chest. Then she reached down and grabbed his
stiffening cock. “We going to do this all day?” “Maybe.” “What about the store?” “Antique books are not particularly last minute Christmas
presents. I think anyone who has had
them on their list has bought them by now.” “You never know, someone might . . .” Why was he thinking of
the book Mac had got him one Christmas, which he was sure was a last minute
purchase? Maybe Mac would be at his
store today, looking for a gift, looking for him. “Or on second thought, I should let you get dressed, go in,
check the place out, get something to eat, build up your strength for the
surprise I have for tomorrow night.” “Christmas Eve.” “Yes, I have a really big surprise.” “Tell me?” He rolled
her over and balanced on his elbows, ready to plunge into her when he learned
her secret. It was too late. They
were fucking again. She curled her
legs up around his and let him take her deeply. Damn, she was a fine woman. *
* * * * Nothing Methos looked at in the stores on Christmas Eve held
any appeal to him as a gift for Elaine.
Everything was too impersonal or too overdone. Too gaudy or not well made. The scents seemed artificial and the
gourmet food stale. At the end of three hours of shopping, he had only
purchased a bottle of French champagne.
The clerk suggested crystal flutes, but the ones he had in his
bar-cabinet were far superior to those he was shown. What do you buy a woman in lieu of a
two-carat diamond ring? Returning to the house he discovered that Elaine had spent the
day decorating and cooking. He smelled
roast beef, heavy with garlic, probably with Yorkshire pudding and was happy
he had some good red wine stashed away.
The champagne could wait until dessert. Elaine was wearing this emerald green velvet dress, tight in
just the right places. Her hair was
puffed out around her face and of course she was barefoot. A slight tug and the dress would tumble off
and they would again be in bed. She
smelled, unlike the scents he had tried that day, absolutely wonderful, as he
kissed her hello. Soft Christmas music was playing in the background. He smiled and headed to the bedroom to change
into something more festive. Only then
did he notice that she had set the table for three. “You invited Joe over?
Do I need to drive out to get him?
You should have called.” “I invited someone over, but it’s not Joe. It’s my Christmas surprise, for you.” “Christmas surprise?” “You liked the surprise I had for you yesterday; I’ve never
seen you cum so hard. So I have
another one for you, I invited someone to join us for dinner and then in
bed.” “You invited a hooker to our Christmas Eve dinner?” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was
hard to imagine a respectable woman who would agree to a ménage de trios on
Christmas Eve. If such a woman
existed, he was fairly sure she did not go to graduate school at Northwestern
or shop at his bookstore, so Elaine wouldn’t know her. “What do you think . . ?” “I’m sorry, honey. I
think my mind was racing ahead. Is it
one of your foreign friends? That
Chinese . . . woman?” “No.” She stopped and
put her hands on her hips. “And what
gives you the impression that I would have invited a woman to share our bed?” He had no comment. He
had absolutely no reason to suspect that Elaine would want to have sex with a
woman. But then, he had never
indicated to Elaine that he had ever had sex with a man. He figured they both had secrets. “I’ve suspected that you might like to have a man join
you. Perhaps you’d like to suck on his
hard cock, or him on yours? I know I would enjoy watching. . and
participating.” “You invited a man?
Where did you find
. . “ Now his mind was
on Elaine and another lover. He was
totally jealous. He could see her in
bed with one of those graduate students, someone much younger with a hard,
firm, well developed body and a huge cock.
Why would she think he would want to go to bed with . . . “I met him several months ago, and immediately thought of the
three of us together. He is the new
owner of the dojo where I work out.
You know the one where I’ve been trying to get you to come to exercise
with me. His name is Duncan
MacLeod. I just know you will like
him.” McJude November 29, 2005 |