LET'S GET PHYSICAL
Author's notes: You will note a reference to an OFC in the very first part of the story. If you’re curious, you can find Megan’s story on my Highlander webpage. It’s a three part series and begins with the piece, ‘One Loss of Heart.’ Please forgive the writing if you do, indeed, visit this series. It was my first and I mean *very* first slash fic.
The story you’re currently reading was submitted to a zine eons ago. It’s been restored, revised and re-worked in a major way. Hope it meets with your approval! :-)
The ancient halls of learning were cloaked in a hushed silence, subdued sunshine filtering through the ivy-covered windows and painting abstract patterns of light and shadows on the walls. The barest hint of voices disturbed the hallowed silence, and the sound grew louder as two of the university’s best-loved professors fought over a single piece of mail.
“Let me see the damn postcard,” Duncan MacLeod demanded and again attempted to snatch the item of contention from his smirking companion. It was a task that proved unsuccessful for the third time.
“I don’t think so, MacLeod,” Methos replied. “Stealing another person’s mail is a federal felony, and someone as honorable as yourself would never commit such a blatant offense.”
Methos had every intention of sharing the postcard with his Highland lover. He just wasn’t in a sharing frame of mind at present, and his mood was certainly not going to change if a certain someone kept arrogantly demanding that he relinquish his mail. “Go get your own damn postcard, Mac.”
Methos grew wary when Duncan fell silent and carefully checked the hallway on either side of them. “What?”
MacLeod leaned forward and teased Methos with the softest of kisses. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch. You know that, right?”
His mood instantly lighter, Methos gasped when an incredibly warm and agile tongue repeatedly flicked his bottom lip. The slight opening of his mouth was exploited, and before another sound could be made, his mouth was plundered and his tongue taken hostage.
MacLeod finally pulled away, and his smile was one of victory. “Pretty, please? With sugar on top?”
Long, dark eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously while kiss-swollen lips pouted.
Methos groaned, but this time it was a sound of extreme exasperation instead of passion. He jerked open the door to his office, and grabbing Duncan by his shirt, hauled him inside the spacious, book-filled room. “Sugar, my ass,” he muttered.
Not waiting for Duncan to reply, he threw the Scot against the wall, keeping him there with one hand while reaching and throwing the lock with the other. A feral grin took shape as he captured Duncan’s pouting lips and commenced a deep, wet exploration of the mouth that both infuriated and teased him to no end. A noise that could only be interpreted as one of surrender vibrated up from Duncan’s throat, and Methos grinned even more while intensifying the onslaught of the kiss.
Buckling knees and grasping hands soon warned Methos of his lover’s need to breathe, and he reluctantly released Duncan’s mouth. He was unwilling to move too far away from his current addiction and spent several seconds nibbling on the luscious lips that were parted and sucking in air.
Noting another area of interest, Methos made his way along Duncan’s jaw, taking a swift bite of an earlobe. He chuckled when he felt the shudder that coursed through the body he held securely in his arms.
“Liked that, huh?”
The abused flesh was soothed with a flick of the tongue, and once Duncan’s breathing returned to normal, Methos took a step back and whispered, “Batting those long eyelashes of yours will get you everything, Highlander.”
Methos reinforced his promise by trailing his fingers across a chest that was once again exerting itself. More strain was placed on Duncan’s over-worked lungs when Methos dropped his hand and brazenly stroked the rapidly filling erection banging against his hip.
“Dammit, Methos, you’re killing me here.”
His hand was forcibly removed from between Duncan’s legs. Leaning back against the door, Methos appraised the fine ass that was seeking refuge behind his paper-strewn desk.
“I should wrestle you more often for the mail,” MacLeod said with a smile.
Methos watched as Duncan straightened his clothes and his hair. “Maybe you should. There are quite a few moves I could teach you. Moves I learned while apprenticed to the son of a Greek wrestler.”
Methos withheld the fact that during that particular time wrestling was done without clothes. Immediately the image of Duncan oiled and naked with his well-endowed manhood and delightfully tight ass on full display sprang to mind. A sudden blaze of hunger slammed into his groin, its startling heat causing Methos to pull hard first on his collar and then the crotch of his slacks.
Luckily his companion missed the brief flush of lust that warmed his cheeks. Duncan was too busy sitting down and clearing a spot on the cluttered desk upon which to prop his feet.
“Do you plan on showing me the postcard, or will I have to resort to more drastic measures?” he asked once comfortably settled.
Methos greeted Duncan’s threat with the lift of a single eyebrow. “Promises, promises.”
Taking a seat on the edge of his desk, he handed over the postcard. His attention then wandered its way lower to the pair of muscular legs stretched out beside him. With a feather-soft touch, Methos stroked the thigh nearest him and grinned wickedly when his fingers got a little too close for comfort and were absentmindedly slapped away.
“It’s from Megan,” MacLeod announced.
His emotions drastically shifted with those words. “Yes,” Methos answered with a weary sigh. Lifting both hands to his face, he rubbed at the slight burning in his eyes. “She’s touring in Europe this fall, and as you can see, the postcard’s from Scotland.”
A comforting hand was placed on his thigh.
“Megan writes that she plans to visit my birthplace.”
His lover glanced up at him, and from the look that appeared on his face, Methos knew Duncan had seen the trace of sadness he could not hide. “During those weeks after the chemo, when I stayed with her at her cabin, Megan often had trouble falling asleep. Many a night I found myself regaling her with tales of our adventures. She seemed quite taken with the ones that took place in Scotland.”
The hand that was on his thigh shifted until it was gripping his upper arm.
“I know I’ve been very stubborn and incredibly unforgiving in regards to Megan. Actually, I've been a real bastard about the whole thing,” MacLeod softly confessed.
His eyes widening with disbelief, Methos stared down at his lover.
Duncan rarely allowed any discussion of Megan to taint their relationship. In fact, it had been almost six months since their last fight over the beautiful singer -- a fight that had caused Methos tremendous heartache.
He had loved and lost Megan many years ago. To have found her again was a great joy to him. Unfortunately that joy had quickly been overshadowed by feelings of jealousy. Duncan had forced him to choose between the two of them, and as much as Methos loved Megan, he loved his Highlander more.
Yet, even though he had chosen Duncan, Methos had adamantly refused to abandon his former lover to her fate. Duncan wasn’t exactly happy about the situation, but Methos didn’t give a damn. True friends were few and far between, and Duncan could go to hell if he thought for one minute Methos would turn his back on a friend in need. He had been down this particular road with Alexa and couldn’t abandon Megan to the same horrors that had befallen her.
Duncan’s voice returned his drifting thoughts back to their conversation.
“Despite everything,” MacLeod continued, “I do care about Megan. Tell me how she’s doing.” Easing his feet off the desk, the long-haired Scot handed over the postcard and held Methos’ hand a brief moment before letting it go.
“Mac . . . .”
Methos swiped at the moisture collecting in his eyes. It would serve no purpose to show Duncan how affected he was by his words. That thought fell by the wayside when he saw the earnest look on Duncan’s face. Leaning down Methos softly kissed him. “I love you, Highlander.”
The kiss was sweetly returned, and it was several moments before Methos dropped his gaze to the postcard clutched in his hand.
“The cancer is in remission, a precarious remission according to her oncologist. It’s only a matter of time, but Megan is determined to go on with her life. She’s not giving up. This tour will probably be the last time her fans have the opportunity to hear her sing.”
“Maybe we could make plans to meet Megan in Europe?”
Methos couldn’t believe Duncan’s offer. “I thought---”
“I know how I’ve treated her in the past, but that’s all behind us.” MacLeod stood and laid his hand against the side of Methos’ face. “No matter what, I’ll be there for both of you when her time comes. I won’t let you go through this alone. Not again.”
Methos turned his face into the comforting touch. “Thank you,” he replied with a husky whisper, and silence reigned while he sought solace in Duncan’s arms.
It wasn’t long before the consoling kisses and caresses re-ignited their passion, and Methos was welcoming a familiar quintet of fingers inside his slacks when a sharp knock on the door disrupted the moment.
Reluctantly, Methos pulled his lover’s hand away from his erection. His five-fingered torturer was just as unwilling to leave and playfully pinched the head of his shaft before vacating the premises. “You are a wicked man, Mac.” Methos captured Duncan’s hand and nipped the man’s thumb before going to answer the summons.
"Dean Williams!” Methos shot a warning look at his lover. "Come in, sir. What brings you to my humble office?"
Methos stood aside and allowed his superior to enter. Standing behind the elderly mortal, Methos checked himself over, making sure the hem of his sweater covered the bulge in his slacks. He glanced toward Duncan once he was assured everything was status quo.
Duncan had risen to his feet and was shaking hands with the Dean of the Linguistics Department. Laughter darkened his brown eyes as he looked over the man’s shoulder at Methos, and with a rueful smile, acknowledged his lover's dilemma.
"Dean Williams. It's nice to see you again."
The older man accepted the Highlander's greeting before turning around to speak with his assistant professor.
"Mr. Pierson. It has been brought to my attention that you have repeatedly ignored all requests concerning your annual physical exam. In fact, since your employment one year ago, you have managed to avoid each and every notice sent from my office in regards to this matter.”
Williams invaded Methos' personal space, getting right up his face. "Policy will not be ignored, sir. Since you have refused to accept responsibility for this, I will do so for you. Today at 1PM, you have an appointment with Dr. McCay at the campus clinic."
Methos began to stutter a reply, but his words were halted by the dean's upraised hand.
"Your excuses will avail you nothing. If you do not comply with this request you will most certainly face suspension.” Williams leaned even closer. “I am quite certain you do not want to place your tenure in jeopardy because of a simple physical."
Obviously enjoying the discomfort he was causing, the balding man smiled at Methos. "I expect a report on my desk this afternoon. Do not disappoint me, Mr. Pierson.” With those words, Williams walked out of the office.
Duncan’s laughter filled the room. Ignoring his lover’s uncontrollable bout of mirth, Methos slammed the door shut and began cursing his superior in several lost languages. When he finally ran out of epitaphs, he turned to Duncan and said, "I cannot believe that old goat would suspend me because I haven't been to the doctor for my physical."
He was caught in a gentle embrace and led back to his desk.
"I don't think it's the fact that you've missed your physical that has him threatening you with suspension,” MacLeod offered. “I believe he's mad because you've ignored policy. You know how much Dean Williams is a stickler for rules and regulations."
His hair was tousled affectionately, but Methos refused to let go of his ire. “I’ll give him rules and regulations. He won’t know what---”
A thorough oral exam interrupted his threat, and once completed, Methos had great difficulty remembering what he was going to say next. Seeking support for his weakening knees, he leaned against his desk and struggled to bring his brain back up to speed. “I hate doctors,” he finally spat out.
MacLeod slid between Methos’ splayed thighs. “I find that completely ironic, considering you were a doctor at one point.”
“It’s totally different, Mac, when you’re on the other side of the needle.” Methos briefly welcomed the hands that massaged both his thighs. “Maybe Anne could . . . ?” He turned a hopeful look in Duncan’s direction.
“Too late, Old Man. Anne’s out of the country, remember?” MacLeod moved closer. “Let’s be honest. You’ve been procrastinating about this forever, and as we both know, you had the perfect opportunity to go and see Anne before she left on that rescue mission. But no, as usual, you put it off. Now you'll have some stranger checking out that gorgeous bod of yours."
Duncan’s smug admonition did nothing to improve Methos’ sour mood. Turning the tables on his unsuspecting lover, Methos reversed positions and trapped Duncan against the edge of his desk. "I do believe you're enjoying my predicament, Mac."
He slid his hands down Duncan’s back and grasped the man’s firm buttocks. Pulling him close, Methos slipped a leg between Duncan's thighs and pressed hard against the robust erection taking shape. "Just for that, you’ll have to come with me this afternoon."
MacLeod moaned when Methos increased the maddening pressure on his cock. "It’s . . . it's just a small clinic,” he forced out between clenched teeth. “Nothing . . . nothing to get worried about. Oh hell!"
The Highlander snagged one of Methos' hands and forced it to close around his swollen organ. "You're Methos, Ancient of all Immortals, a healer, a physician, a warrior who has vanquished countless enemies.” He let out a sigh of appreciation when Methos finally succumbed to his non-verbal request and began to stroke him through his pants. "This should be a piece of cake for you."
"A piece of cake that I will share with you, my friend."
Methos gave Duncan’s balls a gentle squeeze before removing his hand. "If you think I'm going to face that exam alone, you've got another think coming.” He leaned against Duncan, tempting him with a subtle brush of his body as he gathered up test papers and placed them in his briefcase. "One o'clock, Highlander. Be there or accept the consequences."
MacLeod slapped Methos on the butt right before he turned to leave.
"Quoting a most aged and wise scholar . . . promises, promises."
It was a little before one when Duncan exited the men’s restroom. He had arrived at the clinic a few minutes earlier and had taken the opportunity to visit the restroom and wipe the sweat from his face. Seacouver was experiencing a rare heatwave, and the long walk from his office to the clinic had left him drenched.
Duncan stopped at the water cooler and took a swallow of cold water. When he straightened, he saw Methos striding through the door toward the receptionist’s desk. Instead of joining him, Duncan paused to admire his lover’s lean physique and wondered if there was enough chocolate syrup in the fridge for another round of ‘Lick Me ‘til I Cream.’
“Not here? MacLeod’s not here?”
Hearing the strident note in Methos’ voice, Duncan jerked his gaze away from the ass he planned on enjoying well into the wee hours of the night. He saw his lover backing away from the desk, a look of abject panic painted on his face. Immediately Duncan realized that Methos had not been joking when he said he hated doctors. “Another bad memory from his past, no doubt,” he conjectured.
“Uh, I think I need to reschedule my appointment,” Methos told the receptionist. “Just remembered I’ve got a . . . uh . . . something just came up."
Without looking where he was going, Methos continued to backpedal out of the office. Duncan cut off his escape by placing himself squarely in the way. He smiled when the two of them collided. “Going somewhere?”
Methos whirled abruptly. Losing his balance, he began to stumble backwards. Duncan caught him before he could fall. "Get a grip on yourself, Old Man,” he whispered. “It's just a physical."
Methos took a step back and turned around to face the curious receptionist. He took several deep breaths before acknowledging her questioning look. “Adam Pierson. I believe I have a one o’clock appointment with Dr. McCay.”
Duncan was on the verge of retreating to the waiting area when his arm was clutched. “And just where in the hell do you think you’re going?” Methos asked. “We’re in this together, remember?”
“Surely you don’t expect me to come into the exam room with you?” Receiving no answer, Duncan drew even with Methos, and his brow creased with worry when he noted his partner’s eyes widening with fear. “Adam?”
His lover began to hyperventilate. "OH. MY. GOD!"
Duncan glanced forward to see what had brought about Methos' impending panic attack.
There, standing in plain view, with a syringe and one very long needle, was . . . the ‘Nurse from Hell.’
Old Battle-Ax herself, Betty Banks, one of the college's most revered nursing instructors, was waiting to greet his companion with an evil smile brightening her usually grim features.
It would be an understatement to say that she and Methos were not the best of friends. In fact, if Duncan remembered correctly, the last two faculty luncheons had ended with Methos and Ms. Banks arguing quite heatedly over something that was totally inconsequential.
Duncan was trying to recall the subject of their last disagreement when a certain immortal attempted to climb over him in an effort to escape the woman walking in their direction.
"No, no. Not her. Anyone else but the Demon in White."
Duncan bit the inside of his cheek in order to control his laughter. Here was Death himself, afraid of a mere mortal. He snuck a glance at the nurse bearing down upon his lover. Okay, correction. A mere mortal that was obviously delighted with the possibility of inflicting torture upon her most challenging adversary. This was definitely going to be a day to remember.
Duncan stood aside and watched as Nurse Banks laid hands on his evading lover.
"How nice to see you again,” she announced, taking a firm grip of Methos' jacket, thus preventing further retreat. "Dr. McCay will be with you shortly. Until then . . . ." Betty’s voice dropped an octave, it’s low, throaty sound registering deep within what Duncan was sure Methos would label as the fear zone, "Until then, you're all mine."
Incoherent excuses fell from Methos’ lips. Unfortunately, his words landed upon deaf ears. Without missing a beat, Betty propelled Methos down a brightly lighted hallway and straight into the cold torture chamber, known as the exam room.
A desperate cry for help reverberated off the walls.
Ignoring his lover’s plea, Duncan retreated to the waiting area and picked up a magazine. A solid grip on his arm a minute later startled him from his perusal. Nurse Banks yanked him toward the exam room while muttering under her breath.
"Damn idiot. He won't do a thing unless you're there. Refuses to even put on a gown."
Duncan glanced sideways at the older woman. Blue eyes sparkling with humor caught his. He grinned. "You're teasing him, aren't you?"
A quiet chuckle answered his question. "That boyfriend of yours is the most aggravating man I have ever had the pleasure to meet. He argues just for the hell of it. Not to mention, he thinks he's so smart, thinks he knows everything. Well now, he's on my territory. I'm the expert today. Let's see how his scrawny little ass deals with that!”
She wiggled her eyebrows and rubbed her hands together with glee. "Payback time. Are you with me?"
Duncan again smothered his laughter by covering his mouth. "I wouldn't dare stand in your way.” He shook hands with his co-conspirator. "Lead on."
"Smart man. Now, get in there and make him change into a gown."
Her last words were spoken loud enough to be heard through the closed door of the exam room, and before Duncan could reply, he found himself being shoved inside. "If he doesn't obey,” she declared, “I'll be forced to strip him naked myself."
"Oh yeah? You and what army?” Methos glared threateningly at the woman whose hair was liberally sprinkled with gray. "I'm not scared of you!" he shouted.
Betty closed the door, and evil laughter followed her down the hallway. “You should be," she called out loudly.
Duncan caught Methos as he charged for the door. "Methos! Control yourself.” He shook the man by his shoulders. “She’s just a sweet little old lady trying to do her job,” he said while directing his lover toward the curtained-off changing area. “What are you so scared of?"
Methos picked up the gown and scowled at the flimsy piece of fabric. "Sweet little old lady? Ha! That woman is a sadistic serpent from the Medical Center of Hades!” He threw down the gown in disgust. "She hates me, Mac. And now she plans on taking her revenge.”
Pleading hazel eyes were turned in Duncan’s direction.
“You’ve got to help me get out of here."
Duncan grabbed Methos before he could make it to the door. "Come on, Old Man. She can't be all that bad.” Disbelieving eyes stared back at him. "All right, all right. Maybe she's being a tiny bit hard on you, but come on, you're a grown man. Are you really going to let an elderly grandmother of a nurse intimidate you? Where's my fearless hero?"
Duncan began to unbutton Methos' shirt. "You’ve faced countless enemies, defeating them with your intelligence and your cunning. Now, all of a sudden, when faced with an aged angel of mercy, you're a sniveling coward, ready to run?"
Duncan waited for Methos to toe off his shoes before removing his slacks. He was stopped short when reaching for the boxers that were decorated with a familiar beer logo.
"Angel of mercy? Humph. Troll of terror is more like it. I’m telling you, Mac, that woman is the most exasperating female I have ever had the displeasure to meet. She deliberately bickers with me and over the most trivial matters.”
Methos slapped at Duncan’s hands. “She never listens to anything I say. Even when she knows I'm right, she still continues to dispute me. Me! I have more knowledge in my little pinky than she'll ever have in that narrow-minded little brain of hers."
Duncan smiled as he listened to the ramblings of his partner. “How awful,” he murmured.
With loving patience, he dressed Methos in the open-backed gown and assisted him up onto the exam table. The remaining piece of clothing was again reached for.
Angrily punctuating another sentence, Methos slapped Duncan's hands away. “And if she thinks for one minute she can just come in here and . . . .”
Tuning out Methos’ words, Duncan acknowledged the admonishment by withdrawing his hands. He took his place between Methos’ legs and slowly stroked the chilled flesh of his lover's thighs while waiting for the ranting to wind down.
"I'll be damned if I let her tell me what to do.” With that Methos crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in a decisive manner. “Nobody's gonna mess with this immortal.”
The door flew open unexpectedly, startling the both of them.
Betty entered, carrying a tray of needles and syringes in her hand. One glance at the stubborn man sitting on the exam table ascertained his disobedience. Moving to Methos’ side, she reached behind and snapped the elastic waistband of his boxers.
"I said, STRIP! Do you understand English, boy? I want you naked under that gown.” She grabbed at the underwear. "Do I need to remove them for you?"
Methos scooted off the table, putting it between him and the claw-like hands that reached for his last hold on modesty. "No! NO! I'll get 'em off.” He jumped back when a finger grasped an edge of his boxers. "Mac! MAC! Don't let her touch me!”
Methos wrestled his way into the changing area and pulled the curtain across with such an excessive amount of force, it nearly ripped it from its framework.
Duncan exchanged a grin with his collaborator. Leaning down, he whispered a few words in Betty’s ear, his suggestion bringing forth a delighted chuckle.
“You are a wicked man, Mr. MacLeod.” Placing the tray of syringes in plain sight, Betty turned to exit the room but stopped short when she heard her patient’s whispered inquiry.
"Mac? Is she gone yet?"
Methos eased his head around the edge of the curtain.
Before Duncan could warn Methos of his adversary’s presence, Betty grabbed the front of his lover’s gown and forcibly pulled him back into the room. With the rear panels of his gown flapping in the wind, Methos was propelled up onto the exam table.
"I'll be back," the diminutive nurse warned.
Duncan watched Methos' eyes grow large with fright once he got a look at the tray of needles and syringes.
“Ready for a little ‘Pin the Tale on the Donkey?’” Duncan asked with a note of glee in his voice. He nodded his head at the tray.
“Laugh it up, you asshole,” Methos groused.
A delightful show of bare flesh greeted Duncan when Methos jumped down off the table and walked over to the desk. His lover poked at the items with his index finger. Each syringe was paired with a single needle, a very long needle from what Duncan could see.
Methos quickly backed away from the implements of torture, and yelped when his naked rump bumped up against the cold steel of the exam table. "Yikes!” Jerking away from the table, Methos fell into Duncan’s arms.
"Calm down. You're stressing to the max.” Using his hands, Duncan warmed the goose-pimpled flesh of his lover’s ass. He then shifted them upwards and massaged his tense shoulders. “You’ve got to calm down, Methos, or else your blood pressure will be through the roof when she checks it."
Duncan lifted sweat-damp hair from the nape of Methos' neck and blew a gentle current of air across the heated skin. “It’s gonna be all right.” Pressing a light kiss to the area, he continued soothing the tenseness from his companion’s shoulders and back.
"Look! LOOK!” Methos pointed at the tray. "Do you see the size of those needles? I’m telling you, Mac, that woman intends to inflict major pain on me." Methos struggled unsuccessfully to escape.
Gathering his lover close, Duncan tightened his embrace. "Get a grip, sweetheart. She's probably just going to draw some blood samples. You have nothing to be afraid of.
"It's gonna hurt," Methos whined.
Amusement turned to exasperation.
"For God’s sake, Methos, you're acting like a baby. Pull yourself together. It's just a needle." Duncan released his grip and took a seat near the changing area.
"Easy for you to say,” Methos griped. “And it's not just a needle. It's a damn big needle.”
Duncan hissed when Methos reached out and latched onto his hand with a crushing death grip.
"Did I mention I hate needles?" he asked.
The door swung open, and Methos hastily return to the exam table. With a condemned look of his face, he confronted his opponent with as much dignity as was expected when totally naked underneath a flimsy gown.
Nurse Banks allowed a ghost of a smile to cross her lips at the sight of Methos’ defeated posture. “Are we ready now?” She cast a stern look at her patient before gathering a blood pressure cuff and thermometer. T'sking lightly under her breath, she proceeded to take the man’s vital signs.
Duncan noted the frown on her face as she wrote down her findings.
"Blood pressure and pulse rate are somewhat high,” she stated. “A little nervous, are we?"
Duncan saw Methos roll his eyes, but luckily his lover refused to rise to the bait. He was about to comment on the weather when all of a sudden Methos’ respirations increased dramatically, and Duncan turned to see what had caused such a reaction. He found Betty standing beside him with a syringe in her hand and a wicked smile curving her thin lips.
Undeniably Methos was in trouble, Duncan mused. His assumption was verified when a second later he heard Methos gasp loudly at the sight of Betty expelling a small amount of liquid from the needle. Duncan hid his smile. If Betty thought Methos’ vital signs were abnormal a minute ago, she should check them now. No doubt, his lover’s heart was slamming at warp speed.
"Vitamin B-12 shot. Everybody gets one." Betty smiled innocently at the fear-stricken man.
Methos swallowed convulsively and rolled up his sleeve.
A wide grin and shake of the head ceased all movement.
"Wrong muscle, Sonny Boy."
Methos closed his eyes and turned over, letting out a grateful sigh when Duncan offered his hand.
Betty prepped the injection site with an alcohol pad, and again Duncan concealed his grin when he heard Methos mutter, “Damn fingers are as cold as ice. What’cha do? Put them in the freezer before you came in here?”
Duncan nearly yelled himself when the shot was given. Yanking his hand free, he wondered if he should inquire as to having it x-rayed just to make sure that nothing was broken.
Cheeks blushing brightly, Methos rubbed his abused tushie and glared angrily at the older woman. A snicker from Duncan only added to his moment of embarrassment. "I get no respect. Absolutely NO respect.” Another snicker escaped into to the room. "Shut up, Mac. You'll get yours, don't you worry."
Betty proceeded with her duties, drawing blood for various lab tests. Once finished she placed all syringes back on the small tray and prepared to leave the room. She stopped at the door. “I’ll need a sample specimen,” she requested, handing a plastic cup to Methos.
The cup was jiggled back and forth.
"You know, spec-i-men.” Betty placed the container in Methos' slightly trembling hand. "Bathroom’s through there. Take your time. I'll be back in shortly."
Brows drawn together in confusion, Duncan examined the blush darkening Methos’ cheeks. The confusion increased when his companion shifted uneasily toward him and whispered huskily, “Uh, Duncan, I may need a little help with this."
Betty popped her head through the door that had been left cracked open. "A urine specimen, you idiot!"
Duncan lost it.
Great bouts of laughter shook his frame, and tears streamed down his face while he watched his indignant lover jump down from the exam table and slam his way into the bathroom.
“You are so not getting any nooky tonight,” Methos declared before disappearing from sight.
“Nooky?” Duncan wiped his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”
He erased the grin from his face when Methos stomped out of the bathroom with his specimen in hand. Taking the container, he sat it down on the desk. “Oh babe, if you could have seen the look on your face. It was totally priceless.”
Duncan followed Methos back to the exam table. “I can’t believe you actually thought she wanted a sample of your---” His words were cut off when a very insistent mouth captured his smiling lips.
Hands callused from millenniums of swordplay cradled his face, and Duncan gasped when his features were traced by lips curved in a smile of love. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the teeth nipping sharply at his lower lip. The slight injury was healed with a swipe of the tongue, and Duncan couldn’t help but open his mouth and pray Methos would accept his invitation. Without hesitation, Methos did so by thrusting his tongue inside and tasting deeply of everything Duncan had to offer.
Snapping his eyes open, Duncan caught sight of the eyes staring back at him. Their color of green-gold was nearly swallowed up by black as both pupils dilated with passion.
The decision to become a more active participant in the seduction was quickly made by reaching out for Methos’ slender body. Duncan slid his hands across the man’s firm chest, seeking and finding the tight nubs that hid beneath the gown’s soft material. He lightly scraped them with his nails, and when a low moan broke the silence, the tender flesh was then twisted and pinched.
Duncan growled when Methos grabbed him. “Touch me,” he demanded, wanting his fair share of the fun.
Methos obeyed, pulling him firmly into the cradle of his thighs. Duncan was about to shift closer when hands found his ass and forced an exquisite molding of their matching erections. Slipping a hand between their bodies, Methos boldly stroked him through the material of his slacks. Duncan arched into the touch. Solid pressure was applied to his balls and soon after that a large wet spot saturated the light colored fabric sheltering his crotch.
Determined to give as good as he was getting, Duncan gripped Methos' bare thighs and spread them even further apart. “Tell me what you want.” Not waiting for Methos to answer, Duncan began a tactile examination of the trembling muscles beneath his hands, inching closer and closer to the tangle of hair that sheltered his lover's manhood.
“No. You tell me what you want.”
Fighting the heat building in his groin, Duncan buried his face in the crook of Methos’ neck and shoulder and licked a wet trail up the man’s slender neck. “I want you. Want to taste you. Now. Here,” he whispered hotly.
“We could get caught. That she-devil is right outside.”
“Exactly,” Duncan answered and marked Methos’ neck with his teeth.
His head was pulled back and his lips fervently claimed. A hushed ‘yes’ was offered to his open mouth. Abandoning all caution, Duncan consumed his lover’s answer.
Seconds passed before Duncan reluctantly detached himself from the maddening mouth glued to his own. Looking down he felt his lips twitch in expectation of the gift he was about to receive. “You have no idea how much I love sucking you off.”
Lowering himself to his knees, Duncan slowly slid the hem of the gown up and exposed his lover’s genitals. He ignored the weeping erection for the pleasure of paying homage to the soft furry sac below. A warm breath was exhaled across the sensitive skin, its short hairs nipped at and pulled on lightly.
Husky cries welcomed the subtle torture, causing to Duncan to smile. He pressed wet, gentle, open-mouthed kisses to each testicle before gathering a portion of the sac into his mouth and rolling it around with his tongue.
“Gods!” was exclaimed hoarsely as agitated fingers tugged on his hair.
The tasty ovals were finally allowed to slip free when Duncan turned his attention to the very needy erection tapping his nose. Methos' cock was rigid and swollen, its color a dusky rose. The head glistened with fluid as droplets of pearly white leaked out incessantly.
Duncan leaned away from his lover and took a second to memorize the beauty before him.
Methos was stretched back over the exam table, his arms trembling with the effort of holding his body still. His gaunt face glowed with a fine sheen of sweat, and his eyes were wild with passion. The mere touch of a fingernail to Methos’ shaft caused him to throw his head back, exposing the tendons in his neck. Duncan licked his lips when he saw the mark of ownership he had placed there earlier.
Lowering his gaze, he noted the rock-solid chest that heaved with the exertion of labored breathing, and the muscled thighs that spasmed as lean hips strained upward, seeking a release that only Duncan could provide.
He gifted his lover’s erection with a fragile kiss. "You are so fucking beautiful," Duncan whispered.
Using a single finger he traced the thick vein along the underside of Methos' cock. A drop of precious liquid was collected and carried to Methos’ mouth. "Sweet nectar from the gods."
Methos sucked on Duncan's finger before biting down on its tip. "Mac, please."
His lover’s body was trembling with desire and need, and with one shaky hand Methos grasped Duncan by the hair and forced his mouth down on his erection. "Now. Suck me now."
Duncan obeyed without a protest, swallowing Methos whole. He tasted every delectable inch of flesh, gently teething the rigid organ from base to head. Engulfing the entire length, Duncan initiated a deep, slow, maddening suction. The fingers gripping his hair tightened, and Duncan willingly allowed Methos to guide the rhythm of his sucking.
Soon the room was filled with harsh panting and throaty groans, followed quickly by a sound that was choked into silence when the evidence of Methos’ release flooded his mouth. Struggling to capture every single drop, Duncan kept up a steady suction until his lover's cock was completely spent.
Falling back on his heels Duncan barely had time to swipe at his mouth before Methos was hauling him off the floor. His head was captured, and his mouth roughly ravished. Words became unnecessary as the two of them communicated their love and passion for each other with frantic kisses and impatient hands.
Without warning, fingers attacked his zipper, ripping his slacks open and hauling out his straining erection. Three slippery tugs later and Duncan was coating Methos’ hand with an abundant dose of Scottish spunk.
“Meeeth---” His howl of surprise was expertly muted, allowing Duncan to take comfort in the mouth calming his shattered emotions.
Chuckling, Duncan bent his head and lapped at the sweat caught in the hollow at the base of Methos' neck. “You’re welcome, Old Man.” Strong arms embraced him a second later, and after several breathless moments, Duncan pulled away, certain that there was a lovesick grin on his face.
Jerking his gaze away from how the gown clung to his lover’s damp flesh, Duncan went in search of a towel. Finding the required item, he passed it to his lover first and watched as Methos wiped the sweat from his body, as well as all evidence of his orgasm.
Methos threw the towel at Duncan and laughed heartily. "Good thing old Battle-Ax already checked my vital signs."
After scrubbing the inside of his pants, Duncan pulled his shirt free. He smoothed it down over his crotch, hoping it would cover the tell-tale wet spot. “Can you see anything?” A negative nod of the head was his answer, and the towel was tossed aside.
“You were magnificent.” Smiling at their combined recklessness, Duncan caught Methos close for a quick kiss. "Can’t believe we didn't get caught."
Methos pinched him on the ass. "That's what made it so exciting, Mac. Knowing Nurse Ratched could walk in on us at any moment. Damn, I'm almost tempted to bend you over this table and fuck you like mad."
“Let’s not push our luck.” Duncan danced away from the hands reaching for his hips. "Remember you still have your physical to pass. Dean Williams may not appreciate a report on our sexual prowess."
A firm knock on the door announced the doctor's arrival, and Duncan excused himself, remaining outside until the exam was completed. Fifteen minutes later he was readmitted to the room and found his lover fully dressed and discussing the university’s homecoming football game with the young physician.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. MacLeod.” McCay shook hands with Duncan. “You’ll be glad to hear that your partner is in perfect health.” Picking up Methos' file, he turned to leave. "See you back in a year, Mr. Pierson, and stay well."
Before the two of them could make their escape, Betty re-entered the room with an impish grin on her face. "Your test results should be back by tomorrow, young man. Feel free to stop by and pick them up in the afternoon."
She ushered them both toward the waiting area. "It was nice seeing you, Mr. Pierson. You too, Mr. MacLeod. Please come back soon."
Methos muttered under his breath. "Over my dead body."
Offering up his hand, Duncan followed after his lover when he made a fast break for the door.
A familiar shrill voice followed them out of the clinic. "Oh boys? Next time it might be prudent if you’d remember how thin these walls are. Sound carries quite well. Bye, bye now."
Methos stumbled and nearly fell to his knees in embarrassment. Duncan grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall before collapsing beside him and roaring with laughter.
"She heard us! Dammit, Mac, she heard us." Methos covered his face with his hands. "We’re never gonna live this down. Never. She’ll own our asses from now until the end of time."
Duncan directed his lover toward the T-bird. “You’re overreacting again. She’ll probably have forgotten the whole thing by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, right. If you believe that, I’ve got a leaning tower in Pisa I could sell you.”
Driving home in total silence, Duncan kept glancing at Methos and was amazed at the shades of red that colored the man’s face. The ride up the lift was equally accomplished in silence. His lover had obviously been stunned speechless, and Duncan swore he would mark this auspicious date on the calendar as soon as he got inside.
Entering the loft, Duncan followed Methos into the sleeping area and chuckled when his partner sprawled wearily across the top of the covers. “You want a beer?” he asked before taking a seat on the bed and stretching out along side of Methos.
“Great. Grab me one, will ya?”
Duncan did nothing to hide his smug grin when hazel eyes glared at him. “Don’t know about you, but I’m wiped. How ‘bout we send out for Chinese?”
“As long as you’re paying it makes no never mind, because as we both know it’s your . . . .”
Rolling over on his stomach, Duncan took a raincheck on Methos’ current diatribe on who owed who dinner and buried his face in his lover’s pillow. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was tired. His day had begun at 4AM with a five mile run, and Duncan had been running ever since. Methos’ doctor’s appointment was to have been a moment to recover from his busy schedule, but that plan had gone up in the smoke the instant the Old Man walked through the clinic’s doors.
Duncan yawned for all he was worth. Maybe he’d close his eyes for a few minutes before calling in the order. Maybe enjoy a little light lovemaking with his grumpy lover before tak . . . .
Duncan startled awake when the mattress dipped under Methos’ weight. Turning his head to the side, he saw not his lover’s face but a gloved hand holding both his new turkey injector and basting utensil, the latter of which seemed to be coated with a thick layer of lube.
“What the hell?”
“Payback’s a bitch, MacLeod,” was fiendishly cackled in his ear.