Disclaimers: Characters aren't mine. No money made. Bascially a PWP totally without social merit. Encited by suze. all her fault. Long into a relationship with Mac, Methos misbehaves on purpose and pays the price much to the enjoyment of both, with a little angst for spice. Oh, the story is in context of relationship being developed in earlier stories that can be found on my page, and might be more richly understood when read after those, but I think can be read on it's own.
;
Warnings: Graphic homoerotic sex and BDSM and what some might call DD and
some might not.

Thanks to Suze for inspiration and encouragement. Thanks to Tansy, Michael,
ShrewKate for Beta reading, comments and encouragement. Thanks to Diana and
Ken for feedback, encouragement, and comments.

Postage Due


Methos hung up his coat, carefully keeping the weapons from clanging, and put down his shoes which he taken off before climbing the stairs. He started silently stripping off his sweater as he crossed the darkened loft to the bed where he assumed Duncan was soundly asleep.

"Any particular reason you haven't been answering your cell phone?" Duncan asked quietly from the bed.

Methos almost jumped out of his skin. "Um . . ." He thought hastily as he threw his sweater over the back of a chair, and then said with a grin, "maybe the battery died."

Duncan sat up and said agreeably, "You could tell me that. You certainly could."

Methos stubbed his toe on a box which was inconveniently lying in the pathway between the stairs and the bed and yelped. "What the fuck is that?" He hopped and staggered on one foot and flopped down on the couch.

"A package that came for you," Duncan said, getting out of bed, wearing nothing but sweatpants that were almost indecently low-slung. "Are you okay?" He sat on the couch and gathered the hurt foot into his lap.

Methos chuckled as Duncan stripped his sock off and looked at the rapidly healing bruise. "Of course, I'm okay, you idiotic clan chieftain. I'm Immortal. I heal. You've not noticed?"

"Oh, I've noticed," Duncan said dryly, starting absently to massage the foot in his lap. "Now, what exactly is the story with your cell phone? The one that was fully charged when you left home. The one that I took off the charger and put in your pocket when you left here ‘Just for a minute, have to run down to the book store, get a Greek-English dictionary. Be right back' Oh, about ten hours ago."

"Um, forgot I had a cell phone in my pocket. . ." Methos said lamely.

Duncan sighed with exasperation and held out his hand. "Cell phone, now, please. Hand over," he ordered.

Methos' eyes widened. "Any other commands, oh lord and master?" he asked as he pulled the phone out and gave it to the other man.

Duncan looked at it. "Turned it off and then forgot you had it, huh?" he said flatly. "That does kind of negate the whole purpose of why I bought the damn thing for you, now doesn't it?"

Methos wiggled his toes against Duncan's bare stomach. "Who's the package from?" he asked guilelessly.

"Nice, very nice. A double distraction. I admire your technique." Duncan raised one eyebrow. Methos grinned mischievously and gave an acknowledging nod.

"The package?" he prodded.

"The phone?" Duncan countered.

Methos wiggled his toes again on Duncan's stomach, then pulled his foot back, gathered his legs beneath him, and glided over the couch on his knees. Putting a hand on the back of the couch on each side of the Highlander's head and a knee on each side of his thighs, Methos settled in his lap, looking him in the eyes.

Almost whispering, he said, "I left here to go to the bookstore. You know how I get lost in bookstores. I sit down on the bloody floor and read in bookstores. So, I sat down on the floor. I read a book. I got lost in the book. I bought the book. I kept reading the book. The phone rang. I turned it off. I knew it was you. I was being bad. I knew it. So I figured in for a penny," he shrugged, "in for a pound. I went to Joe's. I drank a beer. I talked to Joe. I argued with Joe. I drank more beer. I thought about all the different ways you might make me pay for my sins. I got *very* hot and horny. I drank some bourbon. Joe told me to get that idiotic grin off my face and to stop thinking about you and just go home. I came home. Satisfied?"

Duncan's smile was slow, lazy, and very lecherous. "The package is from Amanda. I cannot wait to see what she might have sent you."

Methos chuckled, whispering throatily, "shall we look, right now?"

"Oh, why not?" Duncan gathered Methos in closely, kissed him deeply, and hooked the package with his right foot, pulling it to the couch. Duncan reached over, pulled it up to the couch beside them, and, pulling a knife out of a drawer in the table beside the couch, he slit the package open. Methos sat back on Duncan's knees and watched.

Duncan pulled out a card from the top and handed it to Methos.

"A very happy unbirthday to you, to you. A very happy unbirthday to you, to you. Well, I mean, really, love, we might as well celebrate your unbirthday a few times a year, and I was in the most delightful shop today. Not sure exactly what games you and Duncan play, but thought some of these toys might amuse you. Give the boy scout my love, and tell him I hope he still knows how to tie his knots. Hugs and kisses, Amanda," Methos finished reading the note aloud with a grin. He looked over at Duncan. "Why don't we see what toys the dear girl sent."

Duncan stroked Methos' cheek with a finger and then rummaged through the styrofoam packing peanuts.

"Oh my, what have we here?" Duncan asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

Methos looked at what Duncan had brought out of the packing and smiled happily. "Oh, a suede flogger. Many, many soft, strands of suede. Very, very sensual. And you can't even get it to hurt much, unless you're stinging it down over and over across an already blistered and burning ass."

"And this?" Duncan took out the next present. Methos shuddered.

"That *wicked* implement is an acrylic switch, and as far as I'm concerned, you can just assign it to the rubbish bin. It would hurt and sting like hell-fire, and I have no fucking need to ever get acquainted with it," he said firmly.

Duncan grinned, laying the implement aside. Methos moaned. "I wasn't *that* bad was I?" he asked desperately.

"And this?" Duncan asked, calmly going on with the exploration of the contents of the box and ignoring the question.

"Oh, gods, a leather paddle with a steel spine running up the middle. Sting and thud. I hate these things. Totally. What in all gods names was she *thinking*?" Methos' voice rose in a wailing protest.

Duncan continued to ignore the other man as he took out the next present. Methos looked at it and purred. "Oh, wow. A silk flogger. Couldn't hurt a fly with this one. Is just for fun and playing. Oh, MY. Thank you, Amanda."

"And oh my." Duncan brought out a plastic *object* shaped like a hairbrush, without bristles, blue in color, five inches long, three inches wide across the top, maybe an eighth of an inch deep, with a handle about ten inches long. Methos' eyes widened again.

"That," he said, "is just *evil*. No one deserves to have their ass smacked with that. Would sting like bloody hell."

"Really?" Duncan asked calmly. He gathered Methos back into his arms and asked, "And how did you imagine you might *end up* paying for your sins, my love? If you'd met a fortune teller what would she have told you was in your future?" He stroked Methos' back and kissed him hard.

Methos shivered against Duncan, feeling himself starting to sink into sub-space and enjoying the drift. "Umm. . .I think she would have told me that a tall, dark, handsome man was going to give me a very long, hard spanking."

Duncan grinned. "*A* spanking? What do you deserve for turning off your cell phone and not answering it?"

Methos shivered again and trailed kisses up Duncan's neck. "A spanking," he said carefully.

Duncan grinned again, evilly and mercilessly. "And what does this very naughty brat deserve for disappearing for hours and hours?"

"Another spanking?" Methos asked tentatively, kissing again.

Duncan kept grinning. "And for fibbing and saying that the battery on the phone had run down when actually, it had been turned off and put away?"

Methos sat up outraged and indignant. "I didn't say that the battery had run down . . .I just suggested the possibility . . ." He looked into Duncan's eyes and sighed. "Another spanking." He collapsed back into Duncan's arms, grumbling, "If you're going to spend the entire night blistering my ass, we'll never get around to fuck, you know."

Duncan stroked down Methos back, soothing and comforting, saying in a low, commanding voice, "Whose decision is it how many spankings land on that naughty, disobedient bottom, love?"

"Yours." Methos rolled his eyes, shivered again at the tone of Duncan's voice, sank another two floors down into sub-space, and gently bit the junction of Duncan's neck and shoulder.

Duncan rolled his head back, smiled, and asked in low, husky voice, "And how does that bottom get spanked?"

Methos felt his stomach clench and trembled, floating another six floors doors down, to ground zero.. "With my pants down and my bottom bare," he whispered into Duncan's neck.

"Mmmhmm," Duncan agreed, suddenly grabbing the loops on the waist band of Methos jeans, pulling him up to his knees, slowly unfastening his jeans, then nuzzling at his neck. Methos threw his head back and moaned as Duncan proceeded to unzip his jeans, take them down to just below his ass, stroking and caressing. Duncan continued to caress, slipping his fingers into the waistband of Methos' boxers, pulling them down in back, also to just below the ass cheeks, stroking the now bare buttocks, with his fingers running up and down the crevice.

The waistband of the boxers caught in front, held in place by Methos' hard cock. Duncan chuckled, and while continuing to stroke Methos' ass with one hand, he brought the other hand, around to slip the waistband free, at the same time dipping his thumb inside the foreskin, coating it with the wetness dripping out, and sliding it around the head of the cock.

"Oh, gods, Duncan," Methos gasped out, floating in the depths of sub-space. "Make up your goddamm mind whether you're going to fuck me or punish me."

"Wrong order," Duncan said with a chuckle in his voice. "Punish first. Fuck later." His voice changed, suddenly becoming firm. "And, oh, my lad, you have certainly set yourself up to be punished."

Methos felt his stomach clench again and gasped as the wings of butterflies taking flight in it brushed against the walls of his guts. Duncan shifted on the couch, pulling Methos over his knees, ass up, high over Duncan's lap. Duncan stroked again, gliding his fingers, up from the junction of thighs and buttocks all the way to the hem of the Henley shirt Methos had been wearing under his sweater. Duncan pulled the shirt up, thoroughly baring the butt over his knees from the bottom of the rib cage to the top of the thighs. Methos squirmed, and Duncan pulled his jeans and boxers farther down his thighs.

Duncan stroked the bare ass over his knees again and asked, "Why did I buy you a cell phone, baby?" His hand came up and smacked down hard on the apex of the curve of the buttocks.

Methos squirmed and gasped as the hard hand came down again and again. He took a deep breath and gasped out, "‘Cause you want to keep me on a fucking electronic leash, OWW." He yelped as Duncan's hard hand smacked into the under hang of his butt. "Well, maybe, not," he gasped out hastily. "OWW!"

"I repeat the question, Methos," Duncan said gently, stroking the reddening ass again before raising his hand once more and bringing it down blisteringly hard, three times at the junction of thighs and buttocks.

Methos half-screamed and panted out, "You bought me the goddamn thing so I could stay in touch with you and let you know where I AM!" He squirmed frantically.

"Good answer," Duncan said, reaching over to pick up the leather paddle.

Methos moaned. "Oh, Duncan, please . . .OWWW," he shrieked as the paddle slapped down across the center of the bottom parts of his cheeks. "OWWWW. . ." he yelled out as it came down again. Tears of pain that he blinked back furiously sprang into his eyes, as he continued his frantic wriggling and squirming.

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't be allowed to know where you are, Methos?" Duncan asked quietly, smacking the paddle down five more times hard and fast. "Is there some reason you need to keep your whereabouts concealed from your loved ones?" The paddle came down another seven times. Methos squirmed and shrieked.

"No," he gasped out. "No. . .no. . .no . ..I. . .just. ..forget.. . .to tell you .. .sometimes."

The butterflies in his stomach seemed to turn into wildly gyrating hummingbirds as Methos saw Duncan pick up the new blue, hairbrush-like, implement that had come in the package sent by Amanda.

"OHHHH . .. .OWWWWW," Methos yelped out as the blue plastic paddle snapped down on the apex of his right cheek, multiple times. He went on yelping, half-screaming and squirming futilely as Duncan continued multiple swats in a straight line across his ass and then down and back across.

"You know, Methos,"Duncan said almost conversationally, but with a biting edge to his voice, "you *are* an adult. You're certainly free to wander around town without informing me of your whereabouts. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. You've been doing it longer than anyone alive." He snapped the paddle down hard.

Methos screamed and felt the tears welling in his eyes start to spill out as he listened to Duncan, his stomach starting to fill with a sense of sinking dismay. The Highlander was going places he had not expected to be taken.

"I suppose it's entirely my *own* problem that I worry when hours go by and I have no clue where you are. When all you'd have to do is dial a number on a cell phone to let me know," Duncan went on, still snapping the paddle down over and over on the under hang of Methos' cheeks and on the on the junction of his thighs and buttocks.

Methos squirmed and gasped, his breath coming out in half-sobbing sounds. More tears welled in his eyes, and spilled down his cheeks as he listened to Duncan, and his chest started to tighten with the terrified suspicion that Duncan was totally serious with this scolding.

Duncan continued, his voice getting grim. "I suppose that the fact that I could be imagining you might be lying wounded or dead in some alley after beheading a headhunter, perfect prey for another one, is entirely my problem. Or the fact that I might wonder if some old enemy might have tracked you down and taken you is just a foolish concern "

Methos listened to the seriousness of Duncan's voice with utter consternation, his throat tightening. A sudden very sharp snap of the horrible blue object at the very top of his right thigh, forced out a yelp, and at the same time as he yelped, the tightness in his chest and throat simply burst out into shuddering sobs.

Duncan stopped immediately as Methos started sobbing, sounding as if he were truly frightened. Duncan's eyes widened and his worried, concerned, "Methos?" slipped out of his mouth at the same time that Methos safe-worded with, "PIKA!"

Duncan immediately gathered Methos up into his arms, holding and rocking and soothing. "Oh, love," he murmured, "what's wrong?"

Methos sobbed against Duncan's shoulder. "I . . .thought . . .Joe . . .called you . . .If I'd . . .th . . .thought . . for one . .. minute . . .that Joe . . .hadn't called . . .you, I would have. . ."

"Shhh, baby, shhh." Duncan's voice was gentle and warm. "Joe did call me. He called when you came into the bar. He called and told me when you left the bar. Didn't you know he had?"

Methos thought back to the bar.

***************************

Methos had walked to the back as he usually did, taking a stool, still reading his book, waiting for Joe to notice him.

"Have you called Mac?" Joe demanded, suddenly appearing in front of Methos with a Sam Adams in hand, slamming it down in front of the Immortal.

Methos looked up from the newest Robert Crais mystery novel and grinned. "No," he said quietly,"am I supposed to? Why? Has he told you he's worried?"

Joe glared and muttered, "I do not want understand the games you two play. I really don't." He glared again "And I don't appreciate being called upon to be a player in the middle of them." He glowered again and then grinned." Do you want anything besides a beer?"

Methos smiled lazily: "Later. Wild Turkey. Rocks. On the side. Not yet. I'm reading. And you're busy."

Joe just looked at him. "Yeah, I'm busy as hell. And I have to get more supplies from the back." He looked over at Mike who was also tending the bar and called out, "Mike, I'm going to the back to get supplies." Mike nodded acknowledgment and went on serving customers. Joe disappeared. Methos went on reading, confident that Joe was going to his office to call Duncan.

Joe was back in a couple of minutes, half-glaring at Methos who looked up at him mildly and said, "Have you ever considered the relative sizes of mammals?"

Joe choked on the beer he was drinking and said, "What?"

"Have you ever considered the relative sizes of mammals? I mean compared to other classes of animals? I *think* mammals are in classes â€" I think it's phylum: Chordata, order: vertebra and then class: mammal. I'm not sure. I'm not a biologist. We could look it up. But have you ever considered the relative sizes of mammals? I mean they range from mice to whales. That's quite a difference. I don't think there's any other category of animal with quite such a difference in size."

Joe stared at him. "Reptiles. Dinosaurs to lizards."

"Well, yes, but, the dinosaurs are dead. Extinct. Didn't make it. Gone. Gone. Gone."

"Why are we talking about this? Joe asked flatly.

"Well," Methos said mildly. "I tend to be interested in characteristics of survival. Mammals survive. In all kinds of environmental niches. Joe . . .have you ever considered that damn parrot wouldn't have been nailed to it's perch, pining for the fjords, if it had been a mammal?"

Joe started laughing helplessly, beer almost coming out his nose.

********************************


Methos choked out what he remembered from the bar, still sobbing and holding on tightly to Duncan, the sobs gradually quieting. His voice was still shaking. "I thought he had . . .with him asking about me calling you and commenting on . the games we play . . .I thought you'd called him . . .and told him not to . . .tell me . . . but . . ."

Duncan held Methos, rocking and soothing, saying gently, "I did call him. He did call me. I knew where you were. Bookstore. Bar. Home. I knew you were safe, If Joe hadn't called, you would have walked home into a very real fight, not play. This was all play."

Methos buried his face in Duncan's shoulder, the sobs quieting even more. "M'sorry," he mumbled. "You sounded so fucking serious.."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Duncan said as he continued stroking, soothing, and cuddling until the sobs stopped. He said firmly. "Now time out from play, love. We need to talk."

Methos looked up from Duncan's shoulder. "Oh?" he asked shakily, tears still swelling and spilling. "Have I fucked up?"

"No," Duncan said gently, stroking along Methos cheek bone with a long finger, brushing away the tears. "I think I've come close to fucking up. Me, not you. Or both of us."

He took Methos face into both hands and stared into the green-gold eyes intently. "Methos, this was all play. I wanted it to be all play. I know that sometimes you want to be punished for fucking up in real life and that being punished for fucking up in real life turns you on like a heat-seeking smart bomb, but we definitely make it clear when we're playing that scene."

"But no sex with punishment," Methos interrupted, shivering.

"No," Duncan agreed, pulling Methos back into his arms. Aware that Methos was still deep in sub-space, he gathered up an afghan and covered the other man, to keep him warm and to help him feel safe. "Not with. But, after. . .Methos--" Duncan finished with a grin.

"Yes, Duncan, you just said, heat-seeking smart bomb . . .more like fuck-eeking, eyes-glazed Methos bomb definitely on edge of explosion," Methos conceded.

"Uh huh." Duncan continued grinning. "But this was NOT that scene. WE were playing. I knew where you were. You knew I knew where you were. Joe called me." He went on, voice very firm. ""I was never really angry. I was just scolding you as you've told me over and over that you like to be scolded."

"Oh," Methos said, his voice shaking slightly, "I got confused."

"You got worse than confused, baby," Duncan said quietly. "You got frightened. Frightened that you'd really made me angry, but even worse, frightened that I was changing the rules in the middle of what you thought was play. And that's not safe, not sane, and not consensual. We don't play like that."

Methos shook his head, tension leaking out of his body that he hadn't even known was there. He rested his head on Duncan's shoulder and took a deep breath, more tears suddenly welling and spilling.

Gently, Duncan stroked down Methos' spine and caressed his blazing ass. "It's not going to happen, love." he said, quietly, "I won't change the rules. I won't pull the rug out from under you and frighten you out of your wits." He stroked a finger along an angular cheekbone, wiping away tears again, and continuing in the same soft, warm voice, "I'm not Kronos, baby."

Methos inhaled sharply, and stared at Duncan, his eyes widening in shock, more tears spilling. Duncan leaned over, kissed him, and went on, "Yeah, I know that when we're playing and suddenly you think I'm really angry, you're back in Kronos confusion-land, and it damn well terrifies you."

Methos nodded, curling into Duncan's arms, under the afghan, the sobs starting to quiet. He reached out a hand to touch Duncan's face. "But this is you," Methos said, "not him, not him, not him . ..not ever him again."

"No," Duncan said, very gently. "Not ever him again. I killed him. Sometimes I wish I'd killed him slowly." He went on, his voice wry and sardonic. "And sometimes I wish we didn't continually share our bedroom with that blasted mother-fucker."

Methos started laughing, helplessly, "Gods, Duncan I'm sorry." Duncan laughed with him for several moments, still stroking Methos' blazing hot ass. Methos squirmed against him, still laughing.

"It's all right. I can deal," Duncan said quietly, holding Methos, tightly, stroking him, smiling as the other man laughed and came out of his sobbing upset. Smiling even more as Methos cock hardened again against him. "Now, do you want to hang this up and go to bed? Or back to play?"

Methos thought. Duncan was stroking his still-blazing ass. He was hard as a rock and still drifting in subspace. He rested in Duncan's arms's for several moments, letting go of Kronos memories, banishing him from their bedroom, and stretched out with a slow, lazy grin. "Back to play," he decided.

Duncan chuckled. "Play it is," he said, lovingly. "And, baby, I'm very proud of you of you for safe-wording."

Methos peeked up at him with mischievous eyes. "Does that get me excused from spanking number two?" he asked brightly.

Duncan considered. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "considering the amount of sobbing anguish, I'm almost but not quite willing to consider that as spankings one and two. But, no, I don't *think* so. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun."

"Fun," Methos sputtered indignantly. "Funâ€""

Duncan stroked Methos' very hard cock and grinned. "Uh huh. Fun. And I think time-out is over. Spanking number two coming right up." Duncan pulled Methos to his feet as the other man protested, led him around the couch, bent him over the arm of the sofa, pulled his jeans and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, and looked appreciatively at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, my," Duncan said. "How very pretty. One fish-belly white ass, turned almost crimson red from the top of your pretty round ass to your thighs. Now you stay right there with your pants down and your ass up while I get something to drink and, maybe, if you ask very nicely, I'll let you drink, too." Duncan stroked a lazy fingernail up Methos' blistered ass as the other man whimpered and squirmed, then went into the kitchen. He poured a triple single malt Scotch and a large glass of ice water.

Methos lay over the arm of the sofa, bare ass high in the air, turning what felt like seventeen different shades of red from scalp to stomach. He couldn't even imagine how red his ass was. It burned and throbbed and flamed with every breath he took. Briefly, he considered stopping the whole process of breathing, but knew he would just pass out and start breathing again and that Duncan would just be annoyed. He took a deep breath instead and tried to will himself past the pain in his blazing buttocks.

Duncan returned. "Are you thirsty, little punished pet of mine?" he asked indulgently.

Methos nodded, his throat dry and parched. Duncan gently stroked the brown-black hair, raised Methos' face with a hand under his forehead, moved the hand to under his chin to support it, and held the water glass to his lips. The older man drank deeply and gratefully. Duncan then held the Scotch to his mouth and Methos took three happy swallows and then sank his face back to the cushions of the couch.

Duncan looked at his lover thoughtfully and picked up the acrylic switch that Amanda had sent to them. Methos turned his head, watched him pick it up and started pleading, "Oh, jesus, fuck, Duncan, NO. .. .I promise, I'll NEVER be..."

Methos screamed as the switch lashed down at the junction of his thighs and buttocks, and screamed again as it lashed down half an inch higher, screamed several more times as it lashed down again and again and then suddenly he was floating and flying. Endorphins charging in his brain, he was moaning and moving his ass up to meet the switch, getting harder and harder.

Duncan smiled, lashing the switch down over and over, watching his lover take off and fly as his bottom was welted. Methos whined and moaned, tears of pain rising in his eyes even as he pushed his ass up to meet the switch. "Oh, shit, Duncan . . .hurts.. . .hurts. . .hurts.. .." He twisted and squirmed, still flying and starting to float above the stratosphere.

"Yes, baby," Duncan said gently, smacking the switch down hard three more times into the junction of thighs and bottom. Methos screamed, high and keening and collapsed bonelessly over the arm of the couch, half-sobbing, half-panting, getting harder, writhing and squirming.

Duncan, picked up both floggers and then grabbed the other man by the arm, pulling him up, pants still down, kissing him ruthlessly and steering over to the bed. Methos stumbled halfway and Duncan paused looking at him carefully.
"Are you okay?"

Methos nodded eyes, wide pupils dilated. "Oh, fine. I'm in bliss land. Play on. Please, play on. Please. . ."

Duncan smiled and put Methos on the bed ass up over a pillow. "Third spanking, little one."

The suede flogger suddenly came stinging down over red and burning bottom cheeks. Methos moaned and went flying beyond the stratosphere. The flogger came down again and again as Methos writhed and squirmed against the bedcovers. The Highlander reached out suddenly and stripped off Methos' jeans and boxers, and pushing the Henley high up on his back, leaving him naked from the shoulder blades down. He moaned, flying even higher.

The silk flogger suddenly lashed down his back and then across his stinging butt. Methos screamed, not from pain, but from pure sensation, half out of his mind, bucking his ass up, wanting, wanting . . .and . . .then as the soft lashes fell across his back again he felt a lubed finger, gently squirmed up his ass. He gasped and pushed up against it.

The lashes came down across his burning, stinging ass again and another finger went up his ass. He pushed up against them, sighing deeply. "OH, fucking gods, Duncan, fuck ME. Fuck me. FUCK ME blind," he sobbed out.

The silken lashes came down again and a silken voice ordered, "Hold your cheeks open for me, baby. Hold them wide and spread and open."

Methos balked. "Oh, fuck you . . . OHHHH . . ." he paused and thought, blushing fifty shades of red and reached back and parted his cheeks as he was told to.

Duncan smiled. "Oh, very nice. But even nicer if thoroughly cleaned. Stay put."

Methos flushed again, trembled with unsatiated lust, and seethed with annoyance at Duncan's sudden obsession with cleanliness as the Scot headed for the bathroom. Duncan was back within moments with wash cloths, cleaning the crevice and rinsing.

"Much better," Duncan said, with satisfaction.

"Fuck you,:" Methos said, vehemently, "OWWWWWWW." He squirmed as Duncan swatted him on the ass with his hand and started to sob as his hard cock rubbed against the covers on the bed. "DUNCAN. OHHHHH .. .GODS . . ."

Duncan stroked first the suede flogger and then the silk one up the inside of Methos' ass cheeks, and then lashed down first one and then the other over and over, both on the inside of the crevice and over the cheeks. Methos moaned. "Oh, gods . . .oh, gods . . .oh, gods . . ."

A lubed finger went up into his ass again, exploring and stretching, as the floggers kept stroking and teasing. Methos gasped hard and went tense and ready. "Oh gods, Duncan, fuck ME, NOW!"

Duncan chuckled and slipped another lubed finger went in. Methos gasped again and rode the fingers, thrusting himself up and down. He sighed when yet a third finger joined the other two and insistently pushed up on all three. "Goddamm you, Duncan, fuck ME!" he demanded.

Duncan grinned, pulled all three fingers out and pushed Methos over onto the bed, sore ass down on the mattress. Duncan grinned as the other man winced as his sore ass made contact. Pushing Methos' legs up and wide apart, Duncan put his cock at the opening to the other man's ass and thrust in deep and hard. A lubed hand went around Methos' cock, and a lubed thumb went inside his foreskin, rubbing around the top of his cock.

Duncan paused suddenly, cock still inside of Methos, hand still. "Oh," he asked innocently, "is this what you wanted? By some wild chance?"

Methos screamed and then choked out, "God damn you, MACLEOD . . .I'll fucking KILL you!"

Duncan started laughing helplessly, almost unable to go on. Methos stared at him, blankly for a second, and then started laughing, too. "I'm not dead yet," he protested between gasps of laughter.

"Oh, shurrup, you big baby," Duncan laughed out. "You will be in a minute." He started thrusting in again, moving at a steady rhythm.

"You know," Methos said dreamily, pushing up to meet Duncan's thrusts. "I'm not sure sane people quote Monty Python at each other in the middle of fucking."

Duncan kept laughing as he stroked in harder. "And were you really suffering from the delusion that we were *sane*?" He kept pushing in harder, over and over, stroking Methos' cock in the same rhythm.

"Uh, don't think so," Methos gasped out. "OHHHH .. ..Don't stop. Don't...OHHHH. . . . . OHHHH. . . . ."

Duncan grinned as Methos' cock started jerking spasmodically in his hand. Then he moaned as Methos ass muscles tightened and spasmed around his cock. Duncan breath caught sharply as he started coming himself.

Methos gasped once and then went still, shuddering every few moments with the aftershocks. His breath came out in sobbing gasps.

Duncan rolled to his side, carrying Methos with him, still held tightly in his arms. "Are you okay?" he panted out.

Methos chuckled faintly, "I don't know. Did you file a flight plan with the FAA? For that matter, did you file a flight plan with NASA? I seem to be in orbit. And I'm not sure I'm coming down any time soon, now. Could you maybe tie a kite string to my big toe to make sure I don't get lost?"

Duncan laughed, allowed himself to slide out of the other man, ignoring the whimpering protests and reached for the wipes and towels on the bedside table, cleaning them both off. He pulled Methos up to the pillows at the head of the bed, gathering the covers over both of them.

Methos cuddled in close, wrapping himself around Duncan with his head on the other man's chest, still floating. "Duncan," he said quietly.

"Yes?" Duncan responded sleepily.

"That fucking blue thing," Methos said in a languid, beguiling, imploring voice, "that goes in the trash tomorrow, hmmm?"

"I don't *think* so," Duncan responded with a grin in his voice.

"Duncannn," Methos mock whined. He whispered very softly. "I'll melt the fucking. OWW, goddammit."

Duncan swatted him once, hard, and then kissed him even harder. "You're not bloody melting a present that we got from our darling Amanda-Bellsâ€""

"Amander-Puff," Methos giggled out, still high and floating. Duncan smiled and shook his head, looking at Methos' dilated pupils and wondering how long it would be before he floated down low enough to drift into sleep.

"And I know that you're teasing, my Methochu, but no harm is coming to the blue implement. Hmmm?" Duncan's eyes closed for a moment and he yawned. "Maybe we should name it."

"How about Eekowth?" Methos gasped out, still laughing.

Duncan started laughing too, gently stroking Methos' back. "And call it Owth for short?"

"Works,"Methos said, finally yawning, and snuggling in sleepily. Duncan sighed gratefully, shut his eyes and started to drowse.

A few moments passed. "Duncan?" Methos whispered quietly.

Duncan started awake. "Hmmm?"

"Let's do it all again . . .Duncan? DUNCAN! Do not *hurt* me. . .OWW. . ..OWW . . .OWWW . . ." Methos subsided, giggling again from his stomach where Duncan had rolled him in order to thoroughly swat his sore ass again. "All right. All right. I'll be good. I promise. I promise."

"If you keep me awake for five more minutes, we'll bloody well do the first part of it again and stop right at the moment that I'm sure you'll quietly cry yourself to sleep," Duncan grumbled, pulling Methos into his arms again.

Methos grinned, quite sure his only semi-irate lover meant not one word of it. "Duncan," he whispered again. Duncan opened his eyes again and stared at the other man, a warning glint in them. "Thank you, Duncan," Methos went on softly. "That was just fucking wonderful."

Duncan smiled again. "And totally wonderful fucking, too," he agreed. "You're welcome, baby. Now will you please, please, please, please, *please*â€""

"G'night, Duncan. I love you," Methos kissed him gently, snuggled in, closed his eyes, and was asleep within moments.

"And I love you, too," Duncan said with a voice full of wonder.

End.



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