When

Duncan stopped and watched as Methos circled. They had been sparring for over an hour, and the Old Man had yet to drop a bead of sweat. As far as Duncan could tell, there wasn’t enough moisture on his body to bead. The man glistened—Duncan almost snickered, but it was true…the sweat that was dripping from MacLeod merely sat on Methos’ skin and bounced light around in a “glisten.” Duncan stepped back and signaled the end of the practice session before setting down his katana and taking a towel to the salt that was trying to run into his eyes.

“Whatever you do to have this much stamina, I’ve got to start training,” MacLeod grumbled.

“Why do you need stamina?” Methos snorted. “You hardly ever make it past five minutes.” He sheathed the broadsword and took a deep drink of the beer sitting beside his street clothes. MacLeod watched the smooth line of Methos’ throat before mentally shaking himself and heading toward the showers. He tried to tell himself that he should be offended—or something—by the comment, but he just couldn’t bring himself to brood after working out with such an accomplished and enticing partner.

**

Methos watched the Highlander slink off to shower—and slink he did. The man crept off in such an unusual manner that Methos immediately began to analyze the match that the other man had called off before either of them had suffered a death. That, in and of itself, wasn’t unusual with the Highlander, but as Methos watched the past hour in his mind’s eye, he saw the Highlander pulling blows, taking easy hits, and generally being distracted. The distraction would explain the odd behavior, but what was distracting the most focused man Methos had met in two centuries?

Methos shrugged into a loose sweater and decided that the Highlander would eventually let slip whatever it was that was bothering him. He brushed a hand through his hair and left, leaving the Highlander to brood—hopefully.

**

Duncan struggled out of the dream. He sat up and looked around at his dark loft. He unconsciously fingered the hilt of his sword and relaxed. It had only been a dream, but why did he miss the feel of a warm body next to him in his bed? Because you truly expect him to be here, he reminded himself. He tossed off his covers and moved into the kitchen. He leaned his forehead on the cool refrigerator door as he ran the dream back in vivid detail. You know, if you just ask…, he let the thought trail off as he violently yanked open the door and pulled out a beer. He downed half of it before letting himself refocus on this rather unexpected development.

“Gods, MacLeod, you’ve fallen for the oldest and most annoying man in existence,” he muttered to the ceiling. He sat down on the couch and fell into a familiar state of brooding.

**

The Highlander was still sulking over a bottle of beer when Methos caught sight of him through the slats of the loft elevator. MacLeod had been tense until he saw that it was Methos and had immediately sunk back against the couch and stared into space. It’s good to have a predictable Highlander, Methos thought. He toed off his shoes and tossed his trench coat across the back of the couch as he purposefully strode into the kitchen to snatch a beer. He leaned against the counter and noted that MacLeod had followed his every move. He narrowed his eyes. MacLeod turned away from him with a contemplative look that set Methos back to wondering about this strange behavior.

“Out with it, MacLeod,” Methos finally snapped. He glared at the surprised—and slightly fearful—Highlander. Duncan twirled his empty bottle in his hands and avoided meeting Methos’ eyes. Methos realized that it must be serious and eased back on the counter. His relaxation allowed the Highlander to breathe easier, and he slowly met Methos’ gaze—almost shyly. Methos waited.

“What changed?” he 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 couven ven think about some sort of friendship? Our kind doesn’t do friendship!” MacLeod’s eyes were just a bit wild. Methos coolly reevaluated a number of encounters with the erratic Highlander. He narrowed his eyes as the younger man watched him with an almost breathless anticipation.

“My mind, perhaps,” Methos said. Duncan snorted 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.”

“I have changed millions of times,” Methos said. He set down his beer and slowly approached the Highlander. “There is another possibility.” MacLeod watched him warily as Methos slid onto the opposite end of the couch. The man had slipped into his feline mode, and MacLeod knew that the Old Man could be planning anything. He leaned forward to watch Methos’ eyes. The Old Man quirked an eyebrow and settled back. He watched as MacLeod tried to find enough courage to finish what he was trying to start. Wonder if he can admit it, Methos thought idly when the Highlander finally moved again.

MacLeod lifted a hand and gently brushed it across Methos’ cheek. He leaned into the caress to encourage the younger man. MacLeod swallowed and took a deep breath as he curled his fingers nd Mnd Methos’ head and pulled him closer. Methos let himself be drawn into the kiss and matched the gentle intensity that the Highlander was emoting. As MacLeod shifted his body closer, Methos breathed in the essence of the younger man and gently pushed him back. MacLeod pulled Methos down over him, and Methos subtly maneuvered the younger man into a more comfortable position. It wasn’t easy.

“There has got to be a more comfortable place,” Methos mumbled as the Highlander nipped along his collarbone. Duncan responded by pulling Methos down and grinding up against him. “Bed,” Methos growled as he slipped out of Duncan’s arms and smoothly stepped away from the couch. MacLeod lay for a long moment with a shocked expression. He growled and reached out for Methos, but the Old Man evaded him. Methos 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. MacLeod watched the play of muscles across the man’s back and wondered exactly how they moved further down.

Methos turned back to face the Highlander and crossed his arms. He was almost annoyed, but Duncan happened to catch the quick sparkle that danced through those dark eyes. He suddenly found himself within reach of the older Immortal. He leaned in for another deep kiss. Methos’ hands roamed over Duncan’s bare chest as the Highlander leaned back slightly and began to fumble with the buttons of Methos’ faded jeans. He pulled at the zipper and sighed happily as he slid his hands over Methos’ hips and gently pushed down the jeans. Methos shook them off of his hips and stepped out of them, kicking them away from the bed.

The Highlander had stilled again. Apparently, Methos not wearing anything under the jeans was just as mind-boggling as Methos stepping away from the couch earlier. A smirk flitted across the Old Man’s lips as he leaned forward to press up against Duncan’s flushed skin. Mac groaned and thrust his hips forward. Methos let his fingers dance around the waistband of the dark sweatpants. Duncan moaned in frustration as Methos stepput out of his arms again.

“Going to join me in bed, or stay dressed?” he taunted as MacLeod stubbornly kept his eyes closed. He tried not to grind his teeth as he quickly stripped the sweats and boxers off and turned to see Methos sitting in the center of the bed with one leg curled under and one propping up his chin. Duncan’s eyes focused in on the erection, and he didn’t try to stop the grin spreading across his face. Methos just watched him with those eyes. Those dark eyes that MacLeod would willingly let himself drown in. He crawled onto the bed and placed a light kiss on the Old Man’s patrician nose. He kept his eyes open and stared straight into those black depths.

Methos caught a hip gently and guided Duncan to sit in front of him. He straddled the Highlander’s thighs as the younger Immortal trailed a line of bites and kisses down his chest. He arched into the heat of the mouth and settled over MacLeod’s cock. Duncan shifted back to allow Methos more room, but he wasn’t about to stop kissing the beautiful expanse of skin set before him. 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 and forced himself not to grab the slim hips and ram into the promised heat. The Old Man paused and tilted his head. He slid his hands up the broad chest and rested one on a shoulder as the other traced back down to gently brush over MacLeod’s cock. He placed its tip and slowly sat down. MacLeod finally lost his restraint and pulled Methos hips down with a snap. Both men gasped at the sudden sensation. Methos’ hips tilted back to take in as much of MacLeod’s dick as he could.

“All you had to do was ask,” Methos breathed after a moment to catch his breath. Duncan glowered at the man and rocked forward. Methos smirked and set out to make the proud Highlander loose control again. It took Methos a few minutes to find the rhythm that drove the younger man over the edgecLeocLeod had just enough thought to reach out and join Methos’ hand on the cock between them. Duncan was the first to fall into the ecstasy as he spurted his semen deep into Methos. Methos tilted his head back and reveled in the feel of being totally possessed by another man. Duncan, sated and slightly annoyed that Methos could hold out this long, leaned in and bit a nipple. Methos jerked back and let loose his own orgasm with the sudden pain/pleasure sensation. After his muscles had relaxed, he nuzzled into the juncture of MacLeod’s neck and shoulder before realizing that they were laying down.

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. He opened one eye to glare at the younger man.

are 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.”