Lost

Chapter 1

Mac eyed himself in the bathroom mirror and then made a minor adjustment to his tie. Satisfied, all thoughts of his appearance evaporated as his mind went back to the pain in the butt sitting on his couch and what had happened earlier that afternoon.

He’d tried all manner of bribes and inducements but remained completely unable to convince Methos to accompany him to the charity auction/dinner that evening. To be honest, if he hadn’t promised the committee or agreed to say a few words at dinner he wouldn’t have attended either. Methos had laughed at him, saying that it served him right for not providing his rather large donation anonymously. Mac was halfway through his angry retort that it wasn’t the money but the numerous appraisals he’d provided for several of the artworks that would be auctioned off before he realized that Methos was laughing even harder at him...chortling something about digging his own grave.

At that moment, Duncan regretted accepting the invitation more than ever. Methos had fallen over sideways on the couch in his laughter. With one arm propping himself up Methos had his other arm crossed over his stomach, his head was thrown back exposing that long pale neck, tendons taut and begging to be stroked. His mouth was open and his eyes were closed. It was too much. It took Duncan two long strides and he was kneeling at the couch and grabbing that maddening face with both hands. Surprise at the sudden touch opened those gorgeous eyes which Duncan noted were bright with moisture just before he claimed that invitingly open mouth.

Taking full advantage Duncan pushed his tongue into the moist cavern. Every kiss since their first tentative exploration had been indescribable, addicting. A low moan was the only warning as Methos began sucking and pulling, staking his own claim on Mac’s tongue. Methos’ free hand wrapped itself in Mac’s hair, pulling his head in tighter to deepen the kiss. A few breathless moments later Mac pulled back to look into his favorite gold/green orbs. “Maybe we can just stay here...?”

“You know what will happen if we stay here, Duncan. Is that what you want?” Methos looked into the chocolate eyes and saw the lust, but he also saw the indecision as well as a bit of fear...the same things that Methos knew were showing in his own eyes. They knew where their relationship was headed but had yet to convince themselves that it was a good idea. The events at Bordeaux still burned in his memory, the pain and loneliness of the succeeding months without this man in his life a torture he never wanted to repeat. But they had found themselves again, found that undiminished spark between them that started the moment they’d laid eyes on one another years before.

Yes, this man is what he’d fought to preserve through Kronos’ madness and what he swore to protect until the Game resolved itself. No matter how things worked out between them. But Gods above, how could he have let himself be such an idiot? How could he have let Duncan worm his way so deeply into his heart?

And what about Duncan? Duncan loved completely once he gave his heart. His honor demanded no less commitment once he placed you under his protection. Methos knew he fell under the latter whether he liked it or not, but was unsure of the former. There was nothing about intimacy with other men in Duncan’s chronicles. Could he love Methos in return? Methos wasn’t sure if being fuck buddy was enough. And yet… Shit! Just how desperate was he? He dragged his fingers through the silky hair as he looked into the dark eyes. Pretty fucking desperate, he admitted to himself.

Is this what I want? Duncan pondered the question as he gazed into eyes that looked much greener than gold. For the longest time he believed everything was over between them until he’d stepped back and really analyzed everything that had happened, everything the old man had done and then had finally realized what a fool he’d been. But here, now, was everything he’d ever wanted. He had pulled back enough to be able to look into those eyes, but he could feel the breath coming through the reddened lips, hot and moist. The rest of the room seemed suddenly cold at his back and he wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in the offered warmth. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” The words were barely out of his mouth before his head was pulled back into a deep kiss and everything else disappeared except for the taste of that mouth and the feel of strong hands holding him. A few moments later when breath and awareness returned Duncan opened his eyes to find himself cradled on Methos’ chest, the thud of his heart quaking throughout his body while the long-fingered hands stroked and petted his hair and back. He didn’t remember moving.

“What about your dinner?” murmured Methos.

“What...?” Duncan responded brilliantly. Dinner? Oh, the charity dinner! “We can forget about it...”

“I thought they were expecting you to say something?” Methos queried quietly. Oh, he wanted Duncan so badly it hurt. It was probably fortunate that Duncan’s lower half was still on the floor or it would have been hell with Duncan rubbing up against his swollen cock. It was already hell not having Duncan rubbing against him. But if he was going to go forward there was no way he wanted Duncan having to make apologies in the morning...to anyone.

A heavy exhalation of breath told Methos he was right about what Duncan had committed himself to. “It’s okay. I promised Joe I’d come by tonight, too. Besides, I’d rather we wait until we can be together without anyone pounding at the door.”

Duncan agreed to the last statement with a big smile. “How about breakfast, and then maybe lunch and dinner...?”

“It’s a date,” Methos replied as they both sat up, Methos on the couch and Duncan still kneeling on the floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?” he smiled down at the man before him.
A sudden memory of past slaves and lovers kneeling before him suddenly came to mind. No, that’s not what he wanted from this man…well, maybe not all the time. And he had to be honest...it was definitely an appealing sight. He wondered if Duncan liked to play games with his lovers...

A groan brought him back, but before Duncan could get up Methos leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of Duncan’s face and placed one more kiss on those succulent lips and one more at his temple...a promise for later. Methos then stood up and put out a hand to help Duncan up. Not allowing himself any more proximity, Methos moved to the fridge for a beer and tried to will down his erection and slow his pounding heart. Duncan reluctantly turned to begin his preparations for the evening.

Leaving the bathroom, Duncan reached for his jacket hanging by the coat rack. He shrugged it on and buttoned it, turning to the old man still sitting on the couch where he’d been watching TV while Duncan dressed. He felt those eyes on him and heard a sudden exhalation of breath. He looked up to see Methos walking towards him.

“I take it you approve?” he laughed at the blatantly lustful expression as Methos eyed him up and down, definite approval for the beautifully tailored tuxedo on that gorgeous body readily apparent not only in his eyes but in his jeans.

“Maybe I should go with you just to keep other hands off,” he joked. Leaning forward he placed his hands on the broad shoulders and gave Duncan a chaste kiss. Duncan’s hands moved to the slender waist and started to pull the ancient towards him. “Nuh, uh. I don’t want to muss you,” Methos laughed as he pulled away. “Besides, you start that and we’ll never get out of here. Go on, I’m leaving, too,” and saying that he shut down the TV and grabbed his duster. Duncan also picked up an expensive woolen long coat. Both men automatically checked their swords.

“Do you want to go to Joe’s or your place?” asked Duncan as they got into the car. The response was lost to the shadow under the bridge. A mouth moved to a communicator to give a warning to other shadows in a dark car. They moved out a bit later, following at a distance and knowing they would either head towards the bar or Pierson’s apartment. Stopping a distance away, they watched as the dark man pulled in front of the apartment building but prepared to continue to the museum already knowing MacLeod’s plans.

Duncan pulled to the curb in front of Methos’ apartment. Finding himself a bit shy in a more public place, he reached over and grabbed Methos’ hand, giving it a quick squeeze. The returned squeeze and smile lightened his heart as Methos’ turned and exited the car. He didn’t look back as he took long strides into his flat. Duncan tried not to watch, but snuck a quick look at the graceful movement of his soon-to-be lover. Tomorrow couldn’t come quick enough and Duncan knew there was no sleep ahead of him tonight.

Methos was disgusted at himself. It had taken all of his willpower not to throw Duncan to the floor after he’d turned from buttoning his tux. Gods above, that man was beautiful. And that little hand-squeeze had gotten his heart thumping so hard he couldn’t even turn around as he got out of the car, too aware of the tightness of his jeans and the fear of embarrassing himself. Yes, he was disgusted at his adolescent reactions! He was 5,000 bloody years old and this Highland infant was so deeply entrenched under his skin that he was quickly losing control. The only cure is to get the boy into bed and work off the immediate needs so he could think clearly, or so he told himself knowing that he was already lost and bedding the Scot would only deepen the bond he knew had formed between them. Gods, how he loved Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and he was terrified! He needed a beer, so he took a very cold shower and got ready to go to Joe’s.