========================================================================= Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 21:05:16 -0800 Reply-To: CF Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: CF Subject: Side Effects 4of6 WARNING: NC-17 rating (for strong, heterosexuality) Comments, suggestions, and/or flames (but please don't flame me for the above-stated content...you were warned) to cfc@goldrush.com SIDE EFFECTS Part 4 Kate mulled over in her head his bizarre comment and the tone in which it had been given. How could Hanshaw be lucky? He was dead. Whatever was he talking about? Slowly, the reason dawned on her. She'd made that brash statement out-loud. Oh, when would she ever learn how to keep her thoughts to herself. Ever since childhood, she'd struggled with the neurological connections between brain and mouth that most people took for granted. It had been a real problem in her younger days but over the years, she'd learned to control it except when she got nervous or excited. And she was definitely both at that moment. >From the moment Benton had begun to describe the kind of man Duncan was, she'd felt the stirrings of feminine interest that her male peers had never generated. A man who lived by a strict sense of honor was almost unheard of in this day and age and the idea that one might exist had appealed to the romantic in her. Had she met Benton at a different time in her life, she might have fallen for him but the circumstances of their relationship and all the problems it had entailed prevented that so instead, she'd falling in love with the portrait he'd painted of Duncan. "I didn't mean that the way I think you might have interpreted it." Duncan waved a hand of dismissal. The thought of her and Benton together... "It's really none of my business." "Oh, but it is your business, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." Duncan raised one eyebrow in response. "Benton didn't leave much out, did he?" Kate took a sip of the sour mash and peered at him over the rim of the glass. Her expression was mischievous. "Not without major prodding, believe you me." Her gaze became fixed on his lower lip and her blood pressure rose a couple of notches. "I just wish he'd been a little more descriptive about how handsome you are." The room was too dimly lit for her to see the blush creeping up from his neck but she could discern the bashful expression clearly. "Oh, be serious. I'm sure you've heard that enough times in the last four hundred years for it not to be a surprise anymore. This embarrassment thing's an act, isn't it?" "How do *you* respond when someone tells you you're beautiful? "I'm not beautiful. Okay, pleasing to the eye, acceptable maybe but not beautiful like you are." "Let's come back to that one later." He leaned forward, swirled the liquor in the glass but didn't take a drink. Without taking his eyes off the amber liquid, he explained, "A man and a woman had sex one March night four hundred and four years ago. I never knew who they were and, even if I did, they've been dead for centuries. I had nothing to do with how I look. I can't take the credit for the way two strangers' chromosomes decided to combine. What am I supposed to say?" "I believe 'thank you' is the acceptable response," she informed him lightheartedly. "Thank you," he parroted. There was a lull in the conversation as Kate tried to find a tactful way to poise her next question. Grabbing a quick glance, she saw that Duncan was still staring into the pool of Jack Daniel's. She cleared her throat in preamble then blurted it out. "It still bothers you, not knowing who your parent were?" Duncan pulled his attention from the glass, met her eyes and smiled warmly. A conversation he'd had with Richie a few years before popped into his head. "It did for a long time but, after a couple of hundred years, I got over it." A shiver ran up Kate's spine. Her thoughts were treading into dangerous territory again but she couldn't stop herself. "It really bothered Henry." A picture of her brother when he was seven appeared in her mind's eye; vibrant, happy, innocence not yet lost and then it metamorphosed into the contemptuous, morose, hateful person she'd seen last. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Duncan put down his glass and reached for her hand. "Let's not talk about this," he suggested. His eyes darted around, taking in the room. "So, what are your decorating plans?" he asked, trying to change to subject. "I need to know, Duncan," she entreated. He abruptly dropped her hand, jumped to his feet and started pacing. "What do you need to know, Kate?" he bellowed, anger fueled by guilt. "I took your brother's head before he could take mine. Do you need the gruesome details?" Bitterness and self- loathing stiffened his natural grace and he moved around the room jerkily. "I was raised a warrior and I have a warrior's instincts. Do you need to know he never had a chance?" "Yes, that's what I needed to know," she answered. She stood up and went to him. Clasping him by his biceps, she tried to make him stop pacing. He shook her off the first time, however when she came back again, he ceased and met her gaze. "Don't you see," she explained as though the whole thing was extremely logical. "Someone had to stop him. I only wish you didn't feel so guilty about it." "Damn it, he was your brother. He was a baby. How could I not feel guilty?" Without thinking, she lifted her hands and pressed them against his stubbly cheeks to keep him from turning his head away. "Because you did what you had to do. That boy was not my brother. My brother died the day after Thanksgiving, the same day that I lost my parents. And no matter how much you or Benton or anyone else tries to convince me that an Immortal is the same person before and after their first death, the teenager who came back to life before my eyes was a stranger, a evil stranger who had to be stopped. And it doesn't make any difference that you didn't know that at the time you killed him. You know it now. Please, Duncan. Stop beating yourself up over this." Before he could stop himself, Duncan leaned over and kissed her. A tentative pressing of lips against lips with no demands. But at the instant of contact he became overwhelmed by a wave of need first, followed by loneliness and the loss of what couldn't be. They all frightened him and he pulled back in response. "No," Kate protested and shifted her hands to the back of his neck to keep him from moving away. "This isn't a good idea," he warned. "I think it's a wonderful idea." She grabbed his ponytail and gave it a gentle tug. "You don't even know me." "But I do know you. I know that you're a kind, considerate, gallant man who would do anything for a friend. You're honorable, highly principled and Benton desperately wanted you to be the one to win the Prize." "Jesus, is there nothing that man didn't tell you?" "You're disease free and I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. What more could a single woman in the '90's ask for?" "I guess not," Duncan answered his own question, more to himself than to her. He could easily see why Benton had opened up to her. In a world filled with squalor, this woman was a breath of fresh air. He only wished they could have met under different circumstances. "Let something good come out of what happened tonight," she urged as her hands dropped to his chest and she started rubbing him through his tee-shirt. Duncan captured her fingers to stop the friction of the cotton against his nipples. The charge of the Quickening he'd taken earlier still surged through his body and as a result, it wasn't taking much to arouse him. A mere touch and already he was hard and he doubted Benton had told her about this little side effect of immortality. Kate had no idea what flames she was feeding. It was imperative that he gain back some of the control he was quickly losing. "Are you in the habit of seducing strangers?" Kate reclaimed her hands and, gathering the material of his tee- shirt at his hips, pulled it from the waistband of his jeans. Dipping her fingers beneath the denim, she pressed her thumbs against his hipbones. "You're not a stranger, Duncan. Benton told me all about you. We just never met before." When she rubbed against his erection, his self-restraint, already drawn into a taut, thin thread, threatened to break. His body screamed for release and, for an instant, he indulged himself in the fantasy of what she was offering. But the second he imagined himself thrusting into her body with the abandon caused by the Quickening, he abruptly broke away from her and stood there trembling. He could still see the look on Tessa's face the first time a Quickening had affected his sex drive. Despite their history of a long-standing, loving relationship, she'd been scared. And, although their union hadn't exactly been rape, it had been as close to it as Duncan had ever gotten. When it occurred the second time, she'd known what was happening and had adeptly taken control of the situation. Bringing him to a quick climax with her hands and mouth, she'd then channeled the rest of his energy to her benefit. With the urgency of release dealt with but adrenaline still surging in his blood, their joining had retained a hint of violence but it had been fed by both of them and the sex had never been better. Kate Bartholomew knew nothing about any of this. She had a vague idea about the immediate effects of a Quickening but even that was distorted because, like an orgasm, there was really no way to adequately describe the feeling. And, if she knew the full scope of the aftereffects, she would turn tail and get as far away from him as she could, for at that moment he had lost the ability to resist her. His entire body was as hard as the penis that strained against his zipper and if he moved, it would be in only one direction...toward her. Kate observed the stoic figure standing so rigidly an arm's length away. There was a war being waged behind those unseeing eyes and she didn't know what to do to help him. Her first instinctive response had been rejected not once but twice even though she knew that he wanted her. The evidence of that was easily seen by the hard ridge in his jeans but something was stopping him. When she looked closer, she noticed that he was shaking. His chest was rising and falling as though he was panting but the only other symptom of his increased respiration was the flaring of his nostrils. Benton had told her that, no matter what, she should never be afraid of Duncan MacLeod but his words rang hollow in her mind as she gazed upon the man. He looked dangerous and she *was* afraid. "Duncan," she said, trying to get through to him. "Duncan, what's wrong?" His eyes shuttered closed then slowly opened again. Whatever had been there had disappeared so thoroughly that she wondered if she'd imagined it altogether. There was recognition in his look and his chest had stopped heaving. Kate gave a nervous little laugh and walked back to him. "Are you okay now?" she asked. The blood had stopped pounding in his ears and he'd finally gained control again but it was a fragile hold and could easily snap. "No," he answered and tried to smile in an attempt to break the tension. It came out more like a grimace. "What's the matter?" She reached out to touch him but stopped herself when she heard him exhale a deep, shaky breath of despair. Duncan rubbed a hand over his face and mentally searched for sanity. He found it, grasped it and cloaked himself *within* in it. Only when he could trust himself again did he open his eyes and look at her. "You have no idea," he finally answered her. He returned to the couch, poured himself another drink and downed it in one swallow. Kate didn't take her eyes off his face as she took a seat next to him. She waited a couple of seconds for him to explain but when he didn't speak, she did. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" "No, I'm not," he replied and stared into her warm, beautiful eyes. He saw too many questions in the hazel-green depths, questions he didn't know how to answer. "Believe me, you don't want to know." Another shot of Jack Daniel's poured and downed. Maybe the alcohol would dull his senses and keep the lovely scent of her out of his nostrils. What he should do was get up and leave but he didn't trust his shaky constitution enough to drive yet. He would survive practically any traffic accident but others, victims of his sure-to-be- recklessness, might not be so fortunate. He settled back into the couch with yet another shot and tried to relax. Kate wished she knew what the hell was going on. She'd offered herself and he'd obviously wanted her. Why, in heaven's name, were they still sitting on the couch, growing further away from each other instead of closer? "Why don't you want to make love with me?" she asked unblushingly. What was the point of trying to dull his senses with alcohol if she wouldn't let the subject drop? Didn't she know she was treading on thin ice? Why wouldn't she just let the subject die? Because she didn't understand and she wouldn't understand until he explained it to her. "Listen, Kate, I'm flattered, really I am but I'm in no condition to take you up on what you're offering." She glanced down at his lap unashamedly. "It looks like you are," she mentioned. "That's exactly my point. Benton might have alluded to the effects of a Quickening while it's going on but knowing him, I'm positive he didn't tell you about what happens to the recipient afterward." "You're right. Benton didn't tell me, but from what I just saw, I think I can guess. You get horny." If only that were the case, but horny didn't even come close to explaining what happened to him. The definition didn't describe the sensation as the blood boiling in his loins demanded release. It didn't describe the compulsive urgency he felt to sink himself into a woman or his obsessive drive toward completion. It didn't explain any of that and he didn't know how to tell her about them. "Okay," Kate began innocently, after watching his facial features change into about a dozen different expressions over the span of a few seconds. "Maybe horny's not a good word, but I'm in the ballpark, aren't I?" Duncan's initial burst of laughter unsettled her. "That, my dear, is an understatement," he finally managed to get out. With all the ups and downs this roller coaster of a night had brought, it felt good to release some of the tension. Not exactly the release he'd been looking for a few minutes before but, for the time being, it worked. He slowly closed his eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath and was able to relax a notch. Without the distraction of those soulful brown eyes that pulled at hers like a magnet, Kate was able to inspect the rest of Duncan MacLeod's face. >From the heavy eyebrows, down the strong line of a perfectly formed nose, to lips that begged attention, it was a potently masculine face with no feminine features whatsoever. The hard planes of his cheeks were peppered with more than a day's worth of stubble, calling attention to the fact that he hadn't shaved that morning. Thinking about watching him shave brought a tingling sensation. Mundane tasks did that to Kate. She hadn't been in a relationship with a man in a long time, five years, seven months and an odd number of days, to be exact, yet she still missed running into the accouterments on the bathroom counter. The fact that she missed the masculine trappings more than the man was a good indication that ending the relationship had been a smart idea. But she was lonely. End of part 4 ==================================================