When

Methos circled, watching as Duncan paused and followed with his eyes. It had been a long sparring bout, but neither had struck a killing blow. MacLeod, had not, however, escaped unscathed. Methos took stock of difference in their conditions when the Highlander called an end to the session. Methos noted that he had only a few drops of blood while MacLeod was liberally spla in in red. Methos stepped back and watched as MacLeod toweled away the heavy sweat dripping in his eyes.

“Whatever you do to have this much stamina, I’ve got to start training,” MacLeod grumbled. Methos raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“Why do you need stamina? You hardly ever make it past five minutes.” He sheathed his own broadsword and grabbed a drink. He felt warm from the workout, but that could have something to do with the sparring partner. He smirked a bit as the Highlander slunk off to the showers. He tossed on a sweater and left the younger Immortal to whatever brood he’d decided on for the day.

**

Methos felt the humming quickening as he leaned against the back of the loft’s elevator. Through the slats, he watched the loft come into view and the Highlander sitting on the couch, relaxing back even as Methos’ tension flowed away. MacLeod met his eyes for a second as recognition flared and returned to his brooding contemplation of the wall and ceiling juncture. It’s good to have a predictable Highlander, Methos thought as he made himself comfortable with a beer in the kitchen. He leaned back and watched the Immortal watching him. Methos realized suddenly that this wasn’t the normal Highlander sulk—the man looked contemplative, pleased. His curiosity finally got the better of him.

“Out with it, MacLeod,” he warned. He wasn’t going to wait around for whatever revelation this youth had come too. He could, but he might never see the bothersome man again. MacLeod was surprised—and ever so slightly wary—as Methos glared at him. He twirled his empty bottle and avoided Methos’ eyes. old old man eased himself back and reigned in the glare. The Highlander responded gradually. He finally met Methos’ eyes. Methos forced himself to wait.

“What changed?” Duncan asked. Methos raised an eyebrow. “When did you feel safe enough to walk in and steal beer? When did we make it to the point that we could even think about some sort of friendship? Our kind doesn’t do friendship!” Methos watched as MacLeod riled himself up. He stopped abruptly and looked anywhere but directly at Methos. The old man replayed any number of encounters with the erratic Highlander and narrowed his eyes as the younger man fought to keep his breathing in control.

“My mind, perhaps,” Methos offered. Duncan snapped away from the edge and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I doubt that you would have changed your mind. After five thousand years, I don’t think you’re going to start second-guessing yourself and changing your mind.” Methos had to give him that. He hadn’t changed his mind for a long time. Now, the changing of life around him—that made him make new decisions. Subtle difference. Perhaps the Highlander was ready for that lesson.

“I have changed millions of times,” Methos said. He set down his beer and stepped toward the couch. “There is another possibility.” He slid onto the couch facing the wary Highlander as he nearly purred. This night suddenly had a new purpose. He watched as Duncan leaned forward slightly. It could mean anything, but he quirked an eyebrow and leaned back. The Highlander squirmed. Wonder if he can admit it, Methos thought idly as the Highlander’s eyes focused, and he moved forward again.

MacLeod lifted a hand and ghosted it across Methos cheek. Methos leaned into the caress and felt his entire body shift into the kiss. He felt the fingers curling into his short hair. The shock of Duncan’s lips raced under Methos’ skin, warming him. He hadn’t been this close to another Immortal for years. He’d never trusted anyone—once he’d been able to keep them away. He shivered as MacLeod pulled him up and over. He tried to nudge and direct the other man into some more comfortable position, but the damn sofa was just too small. He grumbled and nipped at Duncan’s collarbone.

“There has got to be a more comfortable place,” he purred into an ear as MacLeod bucked his hips up and tried to pull Methos closered,”ed,” Methos growled as he twisted out of the grasp and stepped far enough away to taunt Duncan. He controlled the grin threatening to break free at Duncan’s shocked expression. He slid back as Duncan tried to grab for him and decided that he would have to convince the Highlander that a new location was a good idea. He caught the edges of his sweater and slowly pulled it over his head. Duncan’s eyes were glued to the smooth skin that was revealed. “Bed,” Methos murmured again as he turned and headed to the piece of furniture in question. He felt Mac’s eyes on him the entire way and didn’t wonder too hard about what the younger man was watching.

Methos turned to find that warm highland body unmoved. He crossed his arms and tried to radiate annoyance. Something worked as he suddenly and almost unexpectedly found himself being kissed without knowing how Duncan had moved across the floor. He sighed and let the thought pass from his mind as his hands roamed over the bare chest in front of him. He felt the Highlander pushing his jeans down and helped the process by shaking them down and stepping out of them. Duncan did that shocked still thing again, and Methos had to wonder that the Highlander was shocked by anything he did anymore. Apparently the commando look was not something Mac had been expecting.

Methos again resisted the urge to smirk and leaned into the Highlander. Mac’s groan was certainly a treasure as Methos skirted his fingers around the waistband of the other’s sweatpants. He stepped out of Duncan’s arms and turned.

“Going to join me in bed, or stay dressed?” he murmured. It was just too fun to taunt the poor boy. Methos smirked as he noticed that Duncan’s eyes were closed and a muscle was twitching in his jaw. He leaned his chin on one knee and waited. Duncan finally stripped his sweats and boxers and turned to Methos. The Highlander did not try to hide the focus of his eyes or stop the grin. Methos waited. MacLeod crawled into the bed and kissed Methos’ nosethoethos watched his eyes. It seemed that the Highlander had some fascination with his own eyes.

Methos gently pulled Duncan forward and sat him down in the middle of the bed. He kneeled up and settled down across the Highlander’s thighs. Duncan trailed a line of bites and kisses down Methos’ chest as Methos arched into the heat and rubbed over MacLeod’s cock. Duncan shifted back without loosing contact with Methos’ heated skin. Methos squirmed down just to torment the man a little bit more. He was thoroughly enjoying this encounter and was going to store away every memory he could.

“Methos, please.” Duncan groaned. Methos could feel the tension radiating from the younger Immortal as he fought to control himself. Methos paused and tilted his head. He teased Duncan’s chest with one hand and let the other position MacLeod’s cock. He caught Duncan’s eyes and slowly sat back. He saw when the Highlander finally lost control and relaxed just as Duncan’s hands pulled his hips down with a sharp tug. Both of them gasped at the sudden sensation. Methos let the burn fade before tilting his hips to take in the rest of Duncan’s dick.

“All you had to do was ask,” Methos breathed after a moment to catch his breath. Duncan glared at Methos and rocked forward. Methos smirked and set out to make the proud Highlander loose control again. It only took a few minutes to find the rhythm that drove the younger man over the edge. MacLeod curled his hand around Methos’ cock as he leaned in to bite at Methos’ collarbone. Methos tilted his head back and reveled in the feeling of being totally possessed by another man. He’d only done this willingly twice, but as Duncan spurted his warm seed deep into Methos, the old Immortal gloried in a rare feeling of freedom. A sated Duncan leaned in and bit a nipple. Methos jerked back and let loose his own orgasm with the sudden /ple/pleasure sensation.

He eased off of MacLeod’s chest and made a mental note that the Highlander was rather quiet during sex, even if he did look splendid while doing it. MacLeod sighed contentedly as Methos lay next to him. Just as the Old Man was sliding into sleep, the Highlander stroked a light finger down his cheek. Methos opened one eye to glare at the younger man.

“So are you going to answer my question?” Duncan asked. Methos growled. “What changed?” Methos sighed at the soft, undemanding tone before turning over and molding his back against the warm Highlander. Duncan let out a breath, but didn’t push. He just spooned himself around the smaller man and settled in to sleep.

“The other possibility, Duncan,” Methos said softly a few moments later as the Highlander’s breathing fell into the even cadence of slumber. “My heart.”