AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story follows "A Matter of Research." You don't have to
read that one to understand this one, but it might make more sense.
Joe Don't Do No Slash
He looked up from his reading as he felt the telltale presence of another immortal.
Methos. About time he got back. He checked his watch. Three hours. More than enough time
to return a book. What had kept him? MacLeod pushed that thought back. He already knew
what had kept him. Or he thought he did. He leaned back into the couch and closed his
eyes, considering his suspicions. He'd find out. Even if he had to ask point blank, he'd
know the answer. He opened his eyes and picked up his book as he heard the door open,
pretending he'd been reading peacefully the whole time. He heard the door close, then
Methos turned the lock and came into the loft. MacLeod watched him surreptitiously over
the top of his book. Methos had a grocery bag in his hands, and went straight to the
refrigerator to put the contents away.
When he straightened up from in front of the fridge, he had a beer in his hand and held it
up for MacLeod to see. "Want one?" MacLeod shook his head no and pretended to go
back to his reading. Methos joined him in the living area and sat heavily in the arm
chair. MacLeod ignored him for a few minutes, then put down his book.
"Was he there?"
Methos didn't answer right away. "Yeah. He was there."
"And I gave him back his book." Methos took a drink of his beer.
"And?" MacLeod repeated.
"What are you..." Sudden understanding of what MacLeod was asking brought a
smile to Methos' lips. "When did you turn into a voyeur?"
MacLeod found himself blushing a little under Methos' scrutiny. "I'm not a voyeur. I
figure I have a right to know what you and Joe were doing."
"Are you jealous? Is that what it is?" Methos asked. MacLeod had to think about
it. He'd been the one who borrowed the book from Joe. A book containing what he'd wanted
to know about ancient sex techniques. Techniques he'd wanted to know to surprise his new
lover. When Methos had insisted on being the one to return it to the Watcher, MacLeod had
suspected what the older immortal might have in mind. Methos wasn't the only one who had
watched Joe and wondered, just a little, what those talented hands might feel like. But
MacLeod had never considered approaching Dawson about it.
"Yes," he admitted. "Why shouldn't I be? You live here and share my bed and
then you go off with ideas of seducing one of my best friends. And you don't expect me to
care about that?" He shook his head. "Unbelievable." He buried his face in
his book and refused to look at the older immortal. The two sat in silence for some time
before Methos spoke again.
"He couldn't do it," Methos said softly, and MacLeod heard the undertone of
disappointment. "I asked him if it was because of us, and he said no, that he just
couldn't do it." He took another swallow of his beer. "I guess I shouldn't have
"I'm sorry." Even angry and jealous, he was not unsympathetic.
"No, I'm sorry. I should have talked to you about it before I went. I was
wrong." He smiled. "Besides, nothing says a guy has to have all his fantasies
come true." He drained the last of his beer, and stood up to get another. "You
want one?" This time MacLeod nodded yes, and Methos brought a bottle for each of
them, then settled back into the arm chair. "We spent a lot of time talking, though.
He was almost as curious as you were."
"You and Joe talked about me? Great. Just what I need in my chronicle. Did you give
him all the details?"
Methos looked annoyed. "You know both of us better than that." He raised his
beer bottle and took a drink. "We spent a long time talking about the history and
some of the mechanics of sex between men. When we talked about you was when he asked what
would get a man who loved women to take another man for a lover."
"What did you tell him?"
"Patience. Understanding. Lust. Love. Curiosity."
"All that and a 5000 year old man sharing my bed," MacLeod chuckled. "What
did he say to that?"
"I think he understood intellectually, but when it came right down to it, he couldn't
give his curiosity free rein." Methos finished his beer. "You know what was
funny?" MacLeod shook his head. "He knew what I was going to offer as soon as we
started talking. He'd figured out that I'd been watching him, and he'd even thought about
whether or not he could be with a man. But it didn't matter how much he thought about it,
it's just not something he can do."
"Give him time. After all, I was over 400 before I could seriously consider it."
"Right." Methos gave him a rueful smile. "I'll just wait another 350 years
and ask him again." He got up and went to the kitchen for another beer. MacLeod got
off the couch and followed him quietly. When Methos straightened up after taking the
bottle out of the fridge, he found himself backed against MacLeod's chest. He moved to let
the Highlander into the fridge, but was stopped by an arm that wrapped around his chest.
Smiling, he relaxed against the body behind him. "You need something, MacLeod?"
"Maybe. Maybe we both do." The beer was taken from his hand and placed on the
counter, then both of MacLeod's hands began caressing Methos' chest. A little shift of
position let MacLeod lean back against the counter for balance as he held Methos against
him. "Was this what you had hoped Joe would do?" His hands moved lower, fingers
playing over the jeans that were starting to become uncomfortably tight, his palm coming
to rest over the bulge within.
Methos let his head drop back onto MacLeod's shoulder and spoke quietly into his ear.
"Something like that." He closed his eyes and let his body melt into MacLeod as
the hands found the buttons on his jeans and opened each one in turn, slowly and
sensually. Fingers pushed the denim aside, freeing his not yet fully erect cock. MacLeod
used the fingertips of one hand to trace the length of the hardening flesh as the other
hand cupped and massaged Methos' testicles. As his hands continued their work, he heard
quiet sighs and small moans from the lips that were still close to his ear. Smiling, he
turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on the jaw line that was all he could reach
without moving more than he wanted to. He slid his hand off Methos' balls and up under the
knit shirt he was wearing, running his fingers lightly across the firm stomach, chuckling
as the muscles shivered under his touch.
"Still ticklish, are we?" he whispered into the older immortal's ear.
"You thought that would change?" Methos twisted his neck and shoulders enough to
meet MacLeod's mouth with his own in a hungry kiss that deepened as the Highlander's hands
continued their onslaught. The fingers on his erection teased and stroked as the hand on
his abdomen moved up to his chest, brushing across each nipple in turn, then going back to
pinch each one into a hard nub. Methos broke the kiss and pressed himself back against
MacLeod, relishing the feel of the strong body against his own. He closed his eyes and
rocked his hips against the hand at his groin, moaning as the rhythm of the stroking
changed to match his movements.
He lost himself in the sensations. The muscular frame against his back, the one hand that
held him tightly and the other hand that stroked his hardness all combined to rob him of
his control. He responded to the touch eagerly, thrusting into the hand that was now
wrapped firmly around him, tight and strong, squeezing and caressing the length until it
was all too much. He came in shuddering pulses, filling MacLeod's hand with the hot fluid
and feeling it on his belly. When he was spent, his knees threatened to buckle, and only
the strong arm across his chest kept him standing.
MacLeod held Methos' limp body against himself and waited as he felt the older immortal's
breathing and heart rate return to normal. Methos' head was still on his shoulder, and the
man's eyes were still closed. MacLeod could see a grin on the face next to his.
"So, does that make up a little for fantasies unfulfilled?" he asked quietly. A
soft chuckle answered him.
"More than that." Methos turned in his embrace and captured MacLeod's mouth.
"Chased all the fantasies away. Except for one. I've got a little something for you
now." He hitched up his jeans enough to walk and led MacLeod to the bed. As they
stood next to the bed, Methos slowly unbuttoned MacLeod's shirt and pushed it off his
shoulders, then unbuttoned his slacks and drew down the zipper. Slacks and briefs were
removed, as were shoes and socks. After getting MacLeod to lie on the bed, Methos stripped
off his own shirt, jeans and shoes, then moved to kneel next to the younger man.
"There's this thing we used to do sometimes back in Rome." He grinned at the
look on MacLeod's face. "Yeah. A little story from my past. Rome. About 50 AD. I
spent some time there." He reached his hands to MacLeod's chest, palms flat, fingers
splayed and caressed the broad muscles and ran his palms over the dark nipples. He was
taken a little by surprise when MacLeod reached up and caught him behind the neck with one
hand and pulled him down quickly into a bruising kiss.
"Tell me the story another time. I do want to hear it, but this is what I want right
now." He held Methos' head down and again found his mouth, lips and teeth parted,
tongue reaching deeply to taste the ancient earthiness of his lover. Methos silently
agreed the story could wait and straightened himself out to lie against the length of
MacLeod's body. He let one leg slip between MacLeod's, and pressed his hip over the
younger man's erection.
Hands traced ancient patterns of need on Methos' back and pulled him firmly against the
other man's body. MacLeod moved to kiss along his jaw line and bite the long neck, but
always returned hungrily to Methos' mouth. MacLeod's hands followed the line of vertebrae
to the older man's buttocks, where he held on as he pushed his groin against the solid hip
above him. His fingers began exploring the cleft between the cheeks, finding the tightly
puckered orifice hidden there. He pressed a finger against the ring of muscle and was
rewarded with an answering shift from Methos that let the fingertip breech the opening.
Methos' own need was evident in the erection that was trapped, along with MacLeod's,
between their bodies.
Methos reached out with one hand and found the tube of gel they kept in the night stand.
He handed it to MacLeod as he kissed him one last time, then turned so his back was to
him. MacLeod warmed the gel in his hand, then smoothed some on his cock and more onto
Methos' buttocks, pushing in with first one finger, then adding another to stretch and
prepare his lover. Finally his moans and the motion of Methos' hips let him know it was
time. He added a little more gel, then placed the head of his erection at the opening and
held Methos' hip as he thrust gently into the tight channel. Methos gasped once at the
intrusion, then sighed as MacLeod continued to press in slowly until his full length was
inside the other man. He shifted one thigh between those of the older immortal and pulled
his hips back enough to begin rocking steadily into his partner.
As Methos reached for his own erection, his hand was covered by MacLeod's, and together
they stroked the straining cock in the same rhythm as MacLeod's thrusting against Methos'
buttocks. MacLeod lifted his mouth to Methos' ear, exploring with his tongue and nibbling
and sucking, then moved again to the long neck, where he remained, alternately kissing and
nipping, the bites becoming harder as he grew closer to his climax. He started moving
faster, his breathing became ragged, and he bit hard into Methos' shoulder as he came,
driving deeply as he pumped his heat into the other man. At the same time, he squeezed
harder on the erection in his hand until Methos cried out as he, too, climaxed, spilling
hot semen into their joined hands, the spasm of the muscle around MacLeod's cock milking
the last of his orgasm from him.
They lay quietly together as their bodies calmed, the only movement when MacLeod kissed
Methos' shoulder where he'd bitten it, the marks on the skin already healed. After a few
moments, Methos moved enough to separate them, then turned and kissed MacLeod as he got
off the bed and went into the bathroom. When he came back, he had warm, wet towels that he
used to clean both of them and part of the bedcovers, then took them back to the bathroom.
This time when he returned, he settled in next to MacLeod, running his fingers into the
long sable hair and looking deeply into the dark eyes. He kissed the soft lips, then
pulled back to continue just looking at the Highlander with a little smile.
"Who needs fantasies?"
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