Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 15:31:19 -0600
Reply-To:     Julia Kosatka <JKosatka@UH.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Julia Kosatka <JKosatka@UH.EDU>
Subject:      Into the Light, 3/6 (REPOST) ADULT

     He chuckled.  "I'm not a brooder, honest.  Been there, done that, got
the t-shirt, burned it and scattered the ashes."
     She laughed, and shivered.
     "I'm getting back in there, I'm freezing."
     He followed her into the water just as Duncan came up for air. "Show
off,"  she said.
     "What?"  Duncan was obviously puzzled.
     "Holding your breath that long!"  she explained.
     "It's something we're good at,"  Duncan said, exchanging an amused
glance with Methos.
     "Isn't there anything you guys aren't good at?"  she asked
plaintively.
     Methos looked at Duncan, who was wearing the most amazingly smug
expression.  Disgusted with himself for being attracted to that, Methos
splashed water at him, and Duncan ducked, laughing.
     "You do *not* want to hear him sing," Methos told Guinan.
     Duncan crossed his arms, looking petulant.  "Well, at least I can
whistle."
     Guinan rolled her eyes.  "You two can cut out the courtship displays
now.  The deed's done."
     Methos looked at Duncan, deliberately letting his gaze soften into a
near-caress.  "I'd say its one down, and one to go."
     Methos waited tensely for Duncan's reaction, and was surprised and
pleased when he didn't look away, or make a joke.  He held Methos' gaze
for a moment, looking thoughtful, then reached under the water to lift one
of Guinan's feet to massage it.  She sighed and leaned back with her head
against him for support.  Her braids swayed into his lap with every little
wave that traversed the water, tickling erotically.  He held her while
Duncan massaged both her feet, and by the time he'd finished she was
three-quarters asleep again, then she pushed herself upright, yawning.
     "I'm going to fall asleep and drown if I stay in here, and unlike you
two, that's not healthy for me."  She got out and grabbed a towel from the
stack next to the tub, laying it out on the platform.  She followed it
with herself, pillowed her head on her arms, and closed her eyes, leaving
Methos alone in the tub with Duncan.  They looked at each other, and
Methos grinned, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.  Duncan shook his head,
laughing.
     "Don't get pushy."
     "I wouldn't dream of it!  Not now."
     "Not now?"  Duncan asked, curious.
     "I ah . . .  tried once before.  It didn't work."
     Duncan stared at him blankly.  "Why don't I remember that?  It's not
the sort of thing I'd be likely to forget, and I can't have been *that*
plowed!"
     Methos studied him, startled.  "I guess it wasn't as obvious as I
thought.  When you mentioned Amanda and Michelle earlier, I thought that's
what you meant."
     Duncan's eyes widened.  "Amanda and Michelle?  You were trying to set
up a quartet?"
     Methos nodded, half flinching away from the expected roar.  Duncan
did not like to be manipulated.  To his surprise, Duncan started to laugh,
shaking his head.
     "If you knew me half as well as you think you do, you'd know that
would *never* have worked.  I wouldn't give those two the opportunity to
dissect my performance for the next thousand years for *any* price!"
     Methos smiled ruefully.  "Smart man."
     They sat there for a moment, just staring at each other, then Duncan
shook his head with an oddly shy smile.
     "This is ridiculous, let's get this over with, shall we?"
     He leaned forward, and Methos met him halfway.  Their lips met,
clung, held.  He lifted his hands to cup Duncan's face, turning him
slightly so the kiss came more naturally.  Faintly, he could taste
Guinan's mulled-cider spiciness on Duncan's lips, as well as other, more
human flavors.  Methos deepened the kiss, his breathing harsh.  Duncan
resisted for a moment, then opened his mouth, accepting his kiss, the
touch of his tongue.  He felt Duncan's arms go around him, felt his body
against his own.  When they finally broke, he drew back, a little stunned
by the profound intimacy of the kiss.  He had somehow expected it to be a
little more . . .  ordinary.  He lifted his gaze and saw confusion in
Duncan's dark gaze.  He sat back abruptly with a quick exhalation.
     "Well,"  he said, meaninglessly.
     Duncan nodded.  "You said it."
     Methos watched a drop of water trickle down Duncan's throat, catching
candlelight like a tiny gold bead, to eventually disappear into the sheen
of water on his chest.  He watched the play of muscles in that chest as
Duncan moved in the water, leaning back into its warmth with a sigh.  A
sudden attack of insecurity rattled him.  Duncan was so damned beautiful,
and he was so ordinary, always had been and always would be.
     "Methos?"  Duncan's voice was puzzled.  "Is something wrong?"
     He looked up to find his friend staring at him with concern.  Friend.
That brought him out of it.  He shook his head.
     "Sorry, I was just having a little anxiety attack."
     "You?"  The word dripped disbelief.
     Methos nodded, smiling wryly.  "I do that every now and then."
     "And here I thought I was the only one,"  Duncan said, looking
sheepish.
     Bolstered by the knowledge that Duncan was as fallible as he, Methos
reached to touch him, his fingers sliding beneath the wet silk of his
hair, over satin-skinned musculature.  He was as wonderful to touch as he
was to look at.  He let a hand follow the path that bead of water had
taken; down his throat, down his chest, beneath the water to find where he
was the same, yet so different.  When his hand curled around the
half-erect shaft, Duncan tensed.  He relaxed a moment later, but not
completely, there was still a strong current of underlying tension in his
body.  Getting the feeling that things weren't quite as relaxed as they
seemed, Methos let his hand drift away again and sat back, studying his
friend.  Duncan looked flustered and embarrassed.
     "I'm sorry, I... guess that's just a little too much too soon."
     Methos nodded.  He'd suspected all along that Duncan was just too far
toward the heterosexual end of the continuum to be comfortable with
exclusively male contact.  With Guinan between them to absorb that edge of
disquiet, it had been different, but now it was back full-force.  He
mentally regrouped, knowing he had to let Duncan know it was all right.
He lounged back against the side of the tub, and stretched out, letting
the water close warmly around his shoulders, trying to show with
body-language that he was completely relaxed and accepting.
     "Do you remember the first time we met?"  he asked casually.
     Duncan grinned.  "How could I forget?  First you ignored me, then you
threw a can of beer at me.  I remember thinking you seemed strangely
unconcerned that another Immortal had just entered your house.  What if
I'd been after your head?"
     Methos chuckled, remembering. "Joe had called to warn me you were on
your way, so I knew it was you.  I guess that was stupid on my part, if it
had been Kallas, I'd have been caught sitting there like a fool with my
beer and walkman!  I did think seriously about leaving, I wasn't quite
ready to give up my life as a Watcher, and Joe's call gave me plenty of
warning, but I wanted to meet you so I just waited.  I'd been hearing
about you for quite a while by that point, and frankly, you fascinated
me."  He cupped water in his hand and idly let it splash back into the tub
before continuing.
     "Guinan mentioned that when she knew you back then that she felt
drawn to you, like a `moth to a flame,' she said.  I knew exactly what she
meant.  You have such *fire* in you, such passion, it's nearly
irresistible.  When Kallas came after me, all I could think was that if I
had that passion, I could beat him, but I don't and I knew I never would.
However I realized that if you had my quickening, *you* could beat him.  I
also thought about what it might do to you to absorb his quickening
without a lighter one to balance it.  His darkness might have killed that
fire in you, or you could have been killed outright because he was very
much your equal.  That's when I knew that I would die to stop him, to keep
that from happening.  Besides, far better to die at the hands of a friend
than to become part of what Kallas was, and aid him in killing others."
     Duncan was staring at him, his expression troubled.  "Methos . . . "
     Methos cut him off, not wanting to hear the sympathy in his voice,
not wanting to get sidetracked.  "Wait, let me finish.  You know how it is
for us, we fall in and out of love so many times in our lives, and in and
out of lust.  It always passes.  But friendship is different, especially
between us. We're so rarely given that gift.  You're my friend, and I
don't want that to change.  If we make love, we risk losing agape for
eros; the love of friends for the love of lovers; and we both know how
fleeting that can be.  I want you, but I want your friendship more than I
want your body and I will *not* lose that friendship for a night's
pleasure.  Pleasure comes in many forms and we'll just have to find the
form that we can both share . . .  even if it's just Klingon chess."
     Duncan stared at him for a long time, then finally he sighed.  "I
think I believe you."
     "I'm being utterly honest with you.  I would jump your bones in a
minute if I thought you'd enjoy it, but I won't touch you as long as there
is the slightest doubt in your mind.  And I know there is, don't tell me
there isn't."
     Duncan looked at him ruefully.  "I can't, I'd be lying."
     "I know.  You're just not. . .  inclined.  I can accept that.  Not
everyone is."
     "Methos,"  Duncan said, looking worried.  "I'm sorry.  I don't want
to hurt you."
     "I'm not hurt, Duncan."  He met the other man's gaze steadily. "The
fact that you were even willing to try is enough."
     "But I have wondered, sometimes. . . "  Duncan confessed, still
obviously confused.
     Methos shook his head.  "Wondering about something and doing it are
vastly different things.  Which of us hasn't wondered about some secret
desire at some time in our lives?  You might wonder what it's like to rape
someone, or to be raped, that doesn't mean you'd actually do it or want it
to be done."
     Duncan shuddered.  "God, I should hope not!  But this is nothing
like--"
     "I know," Methos interrupted.  "It was just an example, a bad one.  I
will admit to hoping that one day you'll change your mind.  I want to make
love to you, I just know tonight's not the right time and place.  I could
tell that the moment I touched you."
     "It was that obvious?"  Duncan asked ruefully.
     "To me, yes.  I've had many, many lovers, Duncan, male and female, I
know when someone's responding to me and when they're not.  You know what
I'm talking about."
     Duncan stared off into space for a moment, then looked back, his gaze
narrowed, speculative.  "I didn't mind kissing you."
     Methos nodded, serious.  "That surprised me.  Most primarily
heterosexual men would've let me bring them off with my hands or mouth
before they'd let me kiss them.  A kiss is so much more intimate than a
touch, something reserved for expressing love, not just sex.  An orgasm is
simple release, a kiss-- so much more.  You know that's why prostitutes
don't kiss.  It's too personal, too revealing."
     Duncan frowned thoughtfully.  "Maybe that's why I didn't mind, then."
     Methos stared at him, startled.  "What?"
     "Like you said before.  We're friends, we have a lot of intimacy
between us, just not *sexual* intimacy.  It somehow felt right, where
this-- just doesn't.  Yet."
     Methos struggled not to smile triumphantly at the word `yet.'
     A soft sound brought his attention to Guinan, who was stirring on the
platform, stretching like a cat as she awoke from her nap.  He admired the
way the candlelight sheened her dark skin, remembering how velvety it had
felt under his hands.  She was a very sensual creature, with surprising
depths.  She sighed deeply, then opened her eyes, eyeing them with amused
curiosity.
     "So, does being an immortal keep your fingers and toes from getting
all pruney in the water?"  she queried, looking interested.
     Methos chuckled.  "No, it doesn't."  He held out a hand, showing her
the proof.  She touched a fingertip to one of his, feeling where the water
had drawn the skin up into ridges, then turned onto her side, frowning at
the hard surface on which she lay.  "You know, this really isn't very
comfortable.  Why don't we go someplace that is?  That monster bed Duncan
has in the master bedroom is plenty big enough for three."
     Methos thought about the conversation he'd just had with Duncan, and
shook his head.  "I think I'll stay here awhile.  Why don't you two go?"
     "Because we want you with us,"  Duncan said from behind him.  "Don't
be a martyr, Methos."
     He turned, a little confused.  "But . . . "
     Duncan shook his head, smiling. "Just because I'm not ready for this,
doesn't mean we can't enjoy your company."
     Guinan raised an eyebrow. "Not ready for what?"
     "For me,"  Methos said, shrugging.
     "Ah,"  she said knowingly.  "I see.  Well, he's right.  Come with us.
We want you."
     He looked at Duncan for confirmation.  The other man nodded, his gaze
steady and open.
     "I... well . . . "  he began, still trying to find a graceful way to
let them finish the night alone.
     "Please?"  Guinan asked in a wheedling tone.
     How could he resist that?  He spread his hands in surrender.  "I'm
yours."
     "You will be,"  she said softly, with a predatorial smile.
     He chuckled and stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel.  She
moved to her knees and put a hand on his hip, turning him toward her.
     "Wait,"  she said, her gaze ranging over him admiringly.  "You really
are beautiful.  Why do you hide all the time?"
     He looked at her, puzzled.  "What do you mean?"
     "You're like I was for a long time, you hide behind your clothes so
no one sees you as you really are.  Everything you have is designed to
camouflage, to disguise, to make you ordinary."
     She wasn't just sensual, she was astonishingly perceptive.  But then,
he already knew that.  He didn't bother to dissemble.  "You're right.
It's quite deliberate.  I learned long ago that it's dangerous to stand
out in a crowd.  Ask Duncan, he knows what I mean."
     "I don't have to ask him, I know.  We're three of a kind, aren't we?"
she said.  "All of us hiding, running.  But not here.  Here we don't hide,
not from each other.  We just are who we are."
     She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his flank, in the indentation
where thigh met hip.  He shivered in unexpected response, and she noticed,
drawing back, looking up at him with those dark, dark eyes.  Leaning
forward again, her hands came to rest on his hips, and her mouth lowered
to brush the dusting of dark hair that arrowed downward from his navel,
following it to where it broadened.  Her tongue licked delicately at the
water droplets caught in the curls there.
     His response was immediate and instinctive, his hands reaching for
her to draw her closer.  He stopped himself just a breath short of her
head, his hands closing on the air instead.  He'd never yet met a woman
who wanted, or needed, help in this.  Slowly the startling heat of her
tongue moved past curls to skin which moments before had been relaxed with
heat, but now was taut and sensitive.  He moaned as her lips closed around
him.  How could he not?  She was silk and fire.
     "Hot..."  he said, somewhat less than coherently.
     "She is,"  Duncan said, his voice husky.  "Like a volcano."
     Trying to put images of eruptions out of his mind, Methos looked past
her to Duncan, who was watching with heavy-lidded interest.  That sent as
much sensation through him as Guinan's lips and tongue.  It might not be
quite what he'd wanted, but having him watch them right now was achingly
erotic; and proof that Duncan also found it so was teasingly visible
through the water.  He watched Duncan's hand move, stroking his hardening
penis, and only long experience kept him from exploding into Guinan's
welcoming mouth.  He wanted Duncan closer.  `Come to us,' he thought.
     As if he'd heard, Duncan looked up at him, and nodded.  Wordlessly he
climbed out of the tub and, dripping, knelt behind Guinan.  He pushed
aside her hair so he could kiss and caress her sensitive neck and back.
Methos moaned again as her ministrations grew more decisive, and he could
no longer resist the urge to cup her head in his palms.  Her hair was cool
and wet against his palms, a shocking contrast to the heat of her mouth on
his cock.  She made a soft sound low in her throat as Duncan began to make
love to her.  The vibration of the sound seemed to go right through her
tongue and into him.  He started to feel a little dizzy, but this was too
good to stop.
     She shifted a little, spreading her thighs.  Duncan put his hands on
her hips, angling her back toward him a little, then reached beneath her.
She lifted her head with a little sigh, her mouth leaving him as Duncan
worked on her.  Methos could almost feel him opening her, almost feel
fingers spreading hot, slick flesh, then Duncan was moving between her
thighs, his engorged shaft slowly disappearing as it entered her.  As it
did, her mouth engulfed him again, a slow, hot, wet flood of sensation.
He thrust his fingers through her hair to hold her still but it was too
late.  A moan of pure pleasure broke from him as his body won the battle
against his will.  The flood tore through him, leaving him gasping with
tortured delight as she coaxed every last drop of sensation from him.
     After what seemed like hours, she finally released him, and he sank
to his knees, his forehead resting on her shoulder.  The sharp, spicy
scent of her surrounded him, and he wondered vaguely if he tasted half as
good to her as she did to him.  He became aware of movement, the wavelike
ebb and flow of lovemaking.  He lifted his head and found himself staring
directly at Duncan, whose eyes were closed, his lashes dark spikes against
his cheeks.  His lips were parted, their sensual fullness emphasized by
the gleam of teeth, a hint of tongue.  Without even thinking, Methos
leaned across and took his mouth with his own.  Duncan didn't open his
eyes, but he did open his mouth, the kiss rapidly becoming an intimate
meshing of lips and tongues.  Guinan slid a hand behind Methos' neck,
toying with the short-cropped hairs at the back of his neck.  A larger,
broader hand rested at his waist, lightly, but still unhesitatingly there.
     Before he could really think about that, a discreet tremor coursed
through her, and she breathed a sound that could have been "Yes." Her arms
closed tight around him, drawing him against her warmth and softness.  A
moment later Duncan growled against his mouth and pushed hard into her,
hard enough to lift her completely off the floor.  Only then did Duncan
break the kiss, pulling away to gulp air into overtaxed lungs.  After a
few moments he slowly relaxed, easing back, letting her knees find the
platform again.  Guinan laughed softly, a dark, throaty sound that sent
shivers of remembered pleasure through him.
     Duncan bit her ear teasingly. "Are you laughing at us?"
     "Never.  I was laughing because I feel good."  She shivered again,
and Methos wondered if it was another orgasm.  After a moment she sighed.
"You fellas sure know how to show a lady a good time."
     Methos touched her lips with his index finger, outlining their full
curves.  "The good time was entirely mutual."
     She smiled.  "I certainly hope so.  What good is pleasure unless it's
shared?"
     She let go of Methos, and he moved away, not far, just enough to sit
comfortably cross-legged on the platform.  Duncan settled back on his
heels and massaged his knees, which were imprinted with a grid pattern
from the tiles they'd knelt on.
     "So much for going someplace comfortable,"  he said, amused.
     "Sorry,"  Guinan said, looking a bit apologetic.  "I guess I got a
bit carried away."
     "I wasn't complaining,"  Duncan said, chuckling.  "But maybe now
would be a good time to change rooms?"
     Guinan nodded forcefully.  "Before I get those..."  she indicated the
marks on Duncan's knees, "...on my butt."
     Duncan laughed, and Methos leaned over to blow out the candles
nearest him.  Duncan got up and went around the room, extinguishing
candles until only one was left.  He picked it up and turned to them, his
face underlit by the flickering flame.
     "Coming?"
     "Not at the moment..."  Guinan said, with a grin.  "But I suspect I
will be before too long."
     Methos smacked her on her rump in retaliation for the pun.  She
squealed and shot him a mock-dirty look as she followed Duncan.  He
grabbed a couple of extra towels on his way out.  It never hurt to have a
few towels around.  Ford Prefect would approve.  As he accompanied them
down the hall, he reflected that it was nice to be with people who would
probably know what the hell he was talking about if he mentioned that.


                         ****


       Guinan shivered a little as the night air licked at her damp body.
The cool felt welcome after the heat of the bathroom, and her lovers.  She
had pretended to sleep, to give them a chance to be alone together, but it
hadn't worked out the way she'd hoped it might.  Duncan was very much a
ladies man, he obviously needed a bit more time to get used to the idea
that his sexuality might be more complex than that.  Fortunately, there
was time, and Methos was clearly willing to wait.  He was sweet, that one.
       He'd been part of a rescue team sent to help after the Enterprise
had been destroyed by Soran during the Nexus debacle.  She'd sensed him
before she'd seen him and thought at first he was Duncan, his lambent
presence had flooded her Othersenses in much the same way.  Her
disappointment at finding it wasn't Duncan had been mitigated by her deep
curiosity about Methos himself.  He `felt' far more intense than Duncan to
her, which she suspected indicated that he was older, much older.
       She hadn't been the only one to sense his presence.  Deanna Troi
had almost been beside herself with curiosity, and attraction.  If she
hadn't been so caught up with the aftermath of the crash, not to mention
Worf and Alexander, Guinan suspected that a romance might have blossomed
there.  Methos was just the type Deanna usually liked.  Gentle, quiet,
cerebral, and possessed of a great sense of humor.  She rather liked those
qualities herself.  Finally, after three days of wondering, she'd managed
to arrange things so that they were alone together, and then she'd hit him
with it flat out.
       "So, Michael Pryce... how old are you?  I know you're an Immortal,
and I suspect you're a very old one.  Tell me."
       He'd gaped at her, stunned.  "H...how did you know?" he'd asked,
betraying himself instantly.  She'd smiled.
       "I've met a couple of your kind over the years.  You've a very
unique mental signature.  Which side are you on?"
       He'd stared at her, still muzzy with surprise.  "Which side?  What
do you mean?"
       "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?"
       He'd grinned at that.  "I suppose that all depends on which side
*you're* on.  Who did you know?"
       "Tanner Dane,"  she had said, testing him.
       His face darkened.  "Then I'll leave you now."
       "And Duncan MacLeod,"  she'd added quietly.
       He'd turned back to her at that, his expression guarded.  "Duncan?"
       She had nodded.  "Duncan and I are very old friends, and recently a
bit more than that."
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