FIC: Better than ribbons, Highlander, Duncan/Methos
Title: Better than ribbons
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Written for: Carene/carenejeans over at hlh_shortcuts
Characters/Pairings: Duncan/Methos
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Warnings: umm... slash?
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt in the HL universe, I hope that you enjoy it :) It was definitely a lot of fun to write! Thanks to azraelz_angel for the encouragement and beta *hugs* I loved participating in this fest :) I'm posting it here on my LJ finally after the authors had been revealed over at hlh_shortcuts. Go over and check out the rest of the fest entries! They rock :)
Summary: It wasn't the first time Methos had woken up hung over and uncertain of his surroundings.
~ * ~
Methos sighed and flipped over, trying to find warmth. The haze of alcohol was still comfortably in place over him and he basked in the blurred lines of feeling and thought, trying to remember what it was that had awoken him. Oh, right. That's why the room was rocking. He'd been dumped at MacLeod's after a night with Joe.
Exhaling loudly, he turned on his side, expecting the couch cushions to poke at him like they normally did, but when all he encountered was smooth cotton, he paused, puzzled. Not opening his eyes, he breathed deep and the scent of the Highlander filled him, the warmth next to him finally making sense and he panicked, eyes opened wide and he pushed away. What the hell was he doing in bed with a sleeping Scot?
Shaking his head, he strove to push through the fog and slowly remembered. Christmas Eve. Hell, that meant today was Christmas! But - oh yeah. They had all been at Joe's, reminiscing and Joe, the crafty bastard, hadn't even gotten drunk with them. He must have had a laugh at the three drunken Immortals that he'd taken home.
Yawning, Methos looked over at Duncan, dark hair spilling across the pillowcase and sighed. Damage done already - he might as well get some more sleep. Those were the last couple of thoughts before his eyes drifted closed and he fell wonderfully back asleep.
Or that was his plan. But not long after he'd begun to doze, he felt a large hand settle on his hip just under his t-shirt, warmth radiating from it. Shifting slightly, unwilling to expend the effort to move away, Methos tried to ignore Mac and find sleep. But the Highlander's thumb slowly caressed over his hipbone again and again, the rasp of the callused digit over smooth skin making him shiver. Each slow swipe seemed as if it imprinted itself deeper, pushing the heat farther inside, making the older man bite his lip.
He didn't think Mac was actually awake, but that didn't exactly matter when his hand was spread against his hip like this, fingers brushing dangerously close to his quickly filling cock, teasing in a way that was both innocent and infuriating even through the cotton of his boxers. He couldn't decide whether he should wake the other man or not, but Methos was trying his best not to squirm, a shiver running along his spine.
He breathed in slowly, breath hitching as that hand drifted, fingers catching in the waistband of his underwear, blunt nails scraping lightly as they dragged along, a small tortured sound strangled in his throat and the oldest Immortal refused to acknowledge how desperate he sounded when his hips jerked up, body seeking more.
Methos' eyes slit open, head turning toward his friend, breath stuttering still at the slightly smirking curve of familiar lips and the lazy dark gaze awaiting him. "Duncan?" He'd thought him asleep and curling around the nearest body. Apparently not.
A very solid body rolled toward him, those lips close to his ear as he was pressed back into the mattress. "Merry Christmas, Methos." He shivered at the gust of hot, humid air along his neck.
"Merry - Christmas," he murmured back automatically, voice breaking when lean hips slid against his own, groin aching, body arching into Duncan's, t-shirt bunching up and pushed out of the way. Every nerve in his body thrummed with need, pure in its want and Methos gasped, a small moan escaping him. "What - what are you doing?"
"After 68 wives, do you really need to ask?" came the amused reply, the words spoken against skin, lips catching and caressing along his collarbone.
"Don't be - a - ah - smartass, child," Methos shot back, breath coming hard as teeth grazed along a nipple, tongue lazily teasing it to hardness before moving across his chest to the other.
His only answer was a dirty chuckle that vibrated against him, causing him to gasp, legs falling farther open as he pushed up against the weight holding him down, moaning as his arousal slid along the Scot, the friction of his boxers against Duncan rippling along his skin.
Squirming slightly, needing more, Methos murmured in protest when he felt strong hands reach down and hold his hips in place, fingers digging into his hips, the dull pain of that ache twining with his need. "Mac -"
"Hmm?" the infuriating Immortal asked before nipping hard at smooth skin just above his waistband. He didn't know when Duncan had moved, didn't know when his hands had found their way into long, soft hair. His head fell back, throat working silently as heat pooled, shivering along his skin, sharpening with each sucking kiss, scraping nip and teasing lick along his hipbone. He had no idea where his boxers had disappeared to and couldn't bring himself to care when breath ghosted along his twitching cock.
"God... please."
"You're so fucking hot like this, old man." Lips grazed along, teasing as a tongue flicked out to taste the gathering precome. "Your whole body begging...beautiful."
Methos' fingers tightened, pulling taut at the hair between them, loving the heated gasp he received in return. "Duncan..."
"So impatient," Mac huffed, his laughter teasing.
"Bast -" The older Immortal's curse was cut short with a loud groan as his cock was enveloped in tight heat suddenly, body shuddering hard as the sensation shot through him without mercy. Sweetness and heat and twinges of pain burned through him, dark hair, restraining hands and knowing eyes watching as Methos' cock disappeared between sinful lips. It didn't take long for the oldest Immortal to curse again, slipping into tongues he hadn't spoken in years, hips straining against strong hands, feet curling against the mattress. When his body began to shake, sensation so intense, Methos didn't even register one hand had moved from his hips until something blunt and mostly dry scraped along sensitive skin and breached him, the burning pushing him over the edge until his vision whited out with a choked shout.
Breathing desperately, body trembling, Methos curled into Duncan, unable to do anything else as his heart tried to find a way from beneath his breast. "Fuck." The curse was weak and he hated that.
"Maybe later." Methos would have rolled his eyes at the smugness of the other man's tone if he'd had the energy. Later he'd make the Highlander scream. That would be the way to wake Richie from his hangover on MacLeod's couch on Christmas morning. He fell into a light doze with a dangerous smirk decorating his lips, wondering if Duncan even knew what he'd gotten himself into. Probably not. But it was Christmas after all - and who didn't like a little surprise under the wrapping?
END
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Written for: Carene/carenejeans over at hlh_shortcuts
Characters/Pairings: Duncan/Methos
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Warnings: umm... slash?
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt in the HL universe, I hope that you enjoy it :) It was definitely a lot of fun to write! Thanks to azraelz_angel for the encouragement and beta *hugs* I loved participating in this fest :) I'm posting it here on my LJ finally after the authors had been revealed over at hlh_shortcuts. Go over and check out the rest of the fest entries! They rock :)
Summary: It wasn't the first time Methos had woken up hung over and uncertain of his surroundings.
~ * ~
Methos sighed and flipped over, trying to find warmth. The haze of alcohol was still comfortably in place over him and he basked in the blurred lines of feeling and thought, trying to remember what it was that had awoken him. Oh, right. That's why the room was rocking. He'd been dumped at MacLeod's after a night with Joe.
Exhaling loudly, he turned on his side, expecting the couch cushions to poke at him like they normally did, but when all he encountered was smooth cotton, he paused, puzzled. Not opening his eyes, he breathed deep and the scent of the Highlander filled him, the warmth next to him finally making sense and he panicked, eyes opened wide and he pushed away. What the hell was he doing in bed with a sleeping Scot?
Shaking his head, he strove to push through the fog and slowly remembered. Christmas Eve. Hell, that meant today was Christmas! But - oh yeah. They had all been at Joe's, reminiscing and Joe, the crafty bastard, hadn't even gotten drunk with them. He must have had a laugh at the three drunken Immortals that he'd taken home.
Yawning, Methos looked over at Duncan, dark hair spilling across the pillowcase and sighed. Damage done already - he might as well get some more sleep. Those were the last couple of thoughts before his eyes drifted closed and he fell wonderfully back asleep.
Or that was his plan. But not long after he'd begun to doze, he felt a large hand settle on his hip just under his t-shirt, warmth radiating from it. Shifting slightly, unwilling to expend the effort to move away, Methos tried to ignore Mac and find sleep. But the Highlander's thumb slowly caressed over his hipbone again and again, the rasp of the callused digit over smooth skin making him shiver. Each slow swipe seemed as if it imprinted itself deeper, pushing the heat farther inside, making the older man bite his lip.
He didn't think Mac was actually awake, but that didn't exactly matter when his hand was spread against his hip like this, fingers brushing dangerously close to his quickly filling cock, teasing in a way that was both innocent and infuriating even through the cotton of his boxers. He couldn't decide whether he should wake the other man or not, but Methos was trying his best not to squirm, a shiver running along his spine.
He breathed in slowly, breath hitching as that hand drifted, fingers catching in the waistband of his underwear, blunt nails scraping lightly as they dragged along, a small tortured sound strangled in his throat and the oldest Immortal refused to acknowledge how desperate he sounded when his hips jerked up, body seeking more.
Methos' eyes slit open, head turning toward his friend, breath stuttering still at the slightly smirking curve of familiar lips and the lazy dark gaze awaiting him. "Duncan?" He'd thought him asleep and curling around the nearest body. Apparently not.
A very solid body rolled toward him, those lips close to his ear as he was pressed back into the mattress. "Merry Christmas, Methos." He shivered at the gust of hot, humid air along his neck.
"Merry - Christmas," he murmured back automatically, voice breaking when lean hips slid against his own, groin aching, body arching into Duncan's, t-shirt bunching up and pushed out of the way. Every nerve in his body thrummed with need, pure in its want and Methos gasped, a small moan escaping him. "What - what are you doing?"
"After 68 wives, do you really need to ask?" came the amused reply, the words spoken against skin, lips catching and caressing along his collarbone.
"Don't be - a - ah - smartass, child," Methos shot back, breath coming hard as teeth grazed along a nipple, tongue lazily teasing it to hardness before moving across his chest to the other.
His only answer was a dirty chuckle that vibrated against him, causing him to gasp, legs falling farther open as he pushed up against the weight holding him down, moaning as his arousal slid along the Scot, the friction of his boxers against Duncan rippling along his skin.
Squirming slightly, needing more, Methos murmured in protest when he felt strong hands reach down and hold his hips in place, fingers digging into his hips, the dull pain of that ache twining with his need. "Mac -"
"Hmm?" the infuriating Immortal asked before nipping hard at smooth skin just above his waistband. He didn't know when Duncan had moved, didn't know when his hands had found their way into long, soft hair. His head fell back, throat working silently as heat pooled, shivering along his skin, sharpening with each sucking kiss, scraping nip and teasing lick along his hipbone. He had no idea where his boxers had disappeared to and couldn't bring himself to care when breath ghosted along his twitching cock.
"God... please."
"You're so fucking hot like this, old man." Lips grazed along, teasing as a tongue flicked out to taste the gathering precome. "Your whole body begging...beautiful."
Methos' fingers tightened, pulling taut at the hair between them, loving the heated gasp he received in return. "Duncan..."
"So impatient," Mac huffed, his laughter teasing.
"Bast -" The older Immortal's curse was cut short with a loud groan as his cock was enveloped in tight heat suddenly, body shuddering hard as the sensation shot through him without mercy. Sweetness and heat and twinges of pain burned through him, dark hair, restraining hands and knowing eyes watching as Methos' cock disappeared between sinful lips. It didn't take long for the oldest Immortal to curse again, slipping into tongues he hadn't spoken in years, hips straining against strong hands, feet curling against the mattress. When his body began to shake, sensation so intense, Methos didn't even register one hand had moved from his hips until something blunt and mostly dry scraped along sensitive skin and breached him, the burning pushing him over the edge until his vision whited out with a choked shout.
Breathing desperately, body trembling, Methos curled into Duncan, unable to do anything else as his heart tried to find a way from beneath his breast. "Fuck." The curse was weak and he hated that.
"Maybe later." Methos would have rolled his eyes at the smugness of the other man's tone if he'd had the energy. Later he'd make the Highlander scream. That would be the way to wake Richie from his hangover on MacLeod's couch on Christmas morning. He fell into a light doze with a dangerous smirk decorating his lips, wondering if Duncan even knew what he'd gotten himself into. Probably not. But it was Christmas after all - and who didn't like a little surprise under the wrapping?
END