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Mac stiffened when he felt the wash of presence, as the old freight elevator was half way up to the loft, then relaxed as the quality of the buzz resolved itself into that familiar feeling that stated more clearly than words that his lover was home. Which was strange, because he hadn’t seen any lights on in the windows.
The elevator shuddered to a stop and Mac lifted the grill. The loft was dark, the only illumination the faint light that filtered in from the full moon and a line of brightness where the bathroom door stood ajar, but he could see no sign of Methos anywhere.
Curious, Mac stepped out of the elevator, leaving his bags where they were, and locked it off almost absently, before removing his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. “Methos?” he called quietly, scanning the room again.
He got no reply. Stepping further into the room, he noticed the wisps of steam curling around the bathroom doorframe. So the Old Man was in the shower, a wicked smile crossed his lips and he heeled off his shoes. It wasn’t really possible for one immortal to sneak up on another but you could pretend, couldn’t you? And since Methos hadn’t come out of the shower, Mac took it as an invitation to join him. Working on the buttons of his shirt as he slowly approached the bathroom, he pushed open the door and peered around it. The sight that greeted him was one that he had been looking forward to for a week.
The ancient immortal was standing with his back to the stream of water, leaning forward with his arms stretched above his head.
Mac drank in the inspiring sight of the long lean form, as the water seemed to caress its way down the pale back before sliding down the curve of the tempting rear.
“Are you just going to stand there, or do I have to come out and get you.” Methos growled impatiently.
Mac grinned at the tone in his lover’s voice, and needing no second invitation he finished undressing and moved to join the other man.
“Were you born in a barn MacLeod, close the damn door you’re letting all the heat out, and I hate being cold when I’m wet.”
Snorting Mac moved to obey, before pulling open the shower door and stepping into the hot steamy space. Wrapping his arms around Methos, he pulled the hot wet body against him, savoring the feel of flesh on flesh.
Methos sighed, this is what he had been waiting for all week, he hated it when Mac went away on business trips and he couldn’t tag along and annoy the Scot, although this more than made up for it. He shivered with pleasure as strong but gentle hands slipped around his waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. Relaxing into the solid body behind him he laid his head back on his lover’s shoulder, an open invitation.
Mac bent his head forward and placed feather light licks along the offered length of the slender neck, soaking up the tremors that ran through Methos’ body as he bit gently at the sensitive flesh. Chuckling at the low moan that issued from the parted lips, Mac placed a hand on his lover’s chin tilting his head so he could claim the willing mouth in a deep penetrating kiss, whilst his other hand enjoyed itself exploring the hard, flat muscled planes of chest and stomach.
Finally coming up for air, Methos wriggled around in the Highlander’s embrace until he was facing his lover, he pressed his groin into the other man’s, a smile curving his lips as Mac gasped at the feel of their erections brushing together, placing some kisses of his own on the now wet skin, he murmured into Mac’s ear, “It’s your turn I believe”.
Shivering at the warm breath that tickled his ear, Mac smiled back at his lover, “I do believe you’re right,” he growled back, reluctantly separating their bodies to reach for the shampoo.
“I’m always right.” Methos teased.
“Uh huh, I’ll believe you, billions wouldn’t.” Mac returned, placing a last kiss on the pouting mouth before he turned the other man away from him. Placing a small amount of the herbal mix on his hand he proceeded to lather Methos’ short silky hair, gently massaging his scalp as well.
Methos uttered a low contented purr as the tingles of pleasure that slithered down his spine went strait to his groin and made him shiver.
Mac smiled to himself as the image of a pampered feline being groomed sprang into his mind’s eye. He slowed the rhythm of his fingers down, easing into a slow but deep massage, enjoying the feel of his lover’s silky hair on his skin.
Methos had to put out a hand to steady himself as his knees threatened to give out on him under the various pleasurable sensations that Mac’s talented hands were drawing out of his body. He muttered a protest as the gentle hands abandoned him, then a strong sheet of water hit him as Mac directed the water nozzle to rinse the lather from his hair.
“Now for the best bit.” Mac murmured into Methos’ ear to soothe away the protest. Reluctantly taking his hands off the pale skin, he reached for the shower gel and took the sponge off its hook. Lathering the gel he started on the back of Methos’ neck and in slow circles made his way down the long expanse of slender back to the gentle curve of his lover’s buttocks. Steadying himself with a hand on the other man’s hip, Mac knelt and continued his mission, soaping the long graceful legs, feeling the muscles flex beneath the skin.
With thorough care and an almost trance like concentration Mac washed his lover’s body. It was a ritual that they had developed since they had become lovers. The first time that Methos had been away, and Mac had been unable to come along, it had been hard. He had missed the ancient pain in the arse something terrible, a secret part of him still scared that Methos would not come back. When Methos had returned, he must have sensed that guilty part of him that had doubted. But instead of being angry, Methos had understood. He had teased Mac into the shower and there proceeded to wash him from head to toe. Then with a grin he had handed Mac the soap to return the favour. While Methos was drying him off, Mac had asked him why, the older immortal had simply grinned at him and said, “Do you feel better?” And Mac had, it was like a re-affirmation of their bond, a getting to know one another again, a promise that next time, they would both be there to do this again. So, now when ever one of them had to be away for a time without the other, they knew that when they returned, the other would be there, waiting for them.
Mac stood facing his lover, the green eyes hooded and dark with pleasure. He leaned in close and darted out his tongue to capture the moisture that clung to the parted lips before claiming them in a slow searching kiss, warm breath and soft tongues mingling in a slow dance. “Your turn,” he moaned into the willing mouth, it had been an exquisite torture but he could no longer wait to have his lover’s hands on him.
Methos gave the sensual mouth one last kiss before he turned Mac around and using the same herbal shampoo he began to wash his lover’s long flowing hair. It felt like silk against his skin, and he was once again pleased that Mac had given in to him and let it grow back. With gentle fingers he combed through the heavy mass, enjoying the vocal encouragement that Mac was giving him. It was hard, but he managed to restrain himself from rushing the task, because all he really wanted was to get his hands on the Highlanders broad well-muscled body.
Soaping the sponge Methos started as Mac had, at the Scot’s neck, graduating down the broad back in slow gentle circles until he reached the tight swell of his lover’s buttocks. Kneeling he could not resist placing a soft kiss on one cheek before making his way down the strong thighs to his lover’s feet.
Standing, he turned Mac around and after a slow lazy kiss, he started again with the flat planes of the younger immortals chest and stomach. Bending his head, he took one of Mac’s already hardened nipples into his mouth, while his free hand slid down to grasp the Scot’s semi-erect cock, a gasping sigh issuing from deep within the broad chest.
“You’re breaking the rules.” Mac moaned in protest, although not too hotly.
“Rules were made to be broken,” came the unrepentant reply.
“You’ll keep.” Mac growled his voice low with menace.
“I can’t wait.” Methos growled back, meeting the desire ridden brown eyes with his own darkened gaze.
Mac let a feral grin curve his lips, so, the old man wanted to play dirty? Well, he could play dirty if the need arose, and the need was definitely arising. Reaching behind him he found the mixer and turned the water off, while his other hand took the sponge from his lover’s hand and dropped it on the floor.
“Hey, I haven’t finished yet.” Methos complained, although to be honest, his tone held no real remorse.
“Tough, that’s what you get for breaking the rules.” Mac returned with no sympathy.
“You’ll keep.”
“I can’t wait.” Mac returned claiming the willing mouth again, before he bundled the other man out of the shower, and dried them both off in record time.
“So, what else do I get for breaking the rules?” Methos whispered into Mac’s ear as he plastered his still slightly damp body against his lover’s.
“Well, I think I can come up with a punishment to fit the crime.” Mac replied, cupping Methos’ rear and pulling him closer. “Do you think you’re up to it?” He growled, thrusting forward with his hips.
“Oh, I’m definitely up to it.” Methos growled back. Breaking the embrace, he held onto Mac’s hand towing him out of the bathroom and over to the bed. Pushing the Highlander onto the bed he landed on top of the laughing Scot “Now either you start punishing me or next time I won’t break the rules.” He growled.
Laughing in the face of such a dire threat, Mac rolled so that his lover was beneath him, claiming the grinning mouth once more before licking his way to the silky skin behind the delicate ear, lingering there and enjoying the rumbling purr that vibrated through his body as he laved the sensitive skin he found there, tasting the faint remains of the herbal wash and that fresh delicious flavour that was Methos himself. Pleased with the mewing sighs that were raining over his ears, Mac continued his journey down the slender column to the juncture of neck and shoulder. Nipping sharply he left a small red mark on the pale marble skin, briefly saddened that it would not remain for more than a few seconds to mark his lover as his, before moving on down to torture one of the twin rosy nipples that already stood hard and waiting for his attention.
Methos was in heaven, or as close to it as he was ever likely to get. The sensations that Mac was creating in him were building into a wave that would eventually crash over him and consume him, and it was an obliteration that he was fully willing to participate in.
Mac smiled down at the man beneath