========================================================================= Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 21:05:20 -0800 Reply-To: CF Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: CF Subject: Side Effects 5of6 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 5 Since her parents' deaths and with all the problems Henry had generated, her own personal needs had been forced onto the back burner. She'd been living in a fog for the past four months but now, due to the help from this Immortal, she'd be able to start putting the pieces of her life back together. And she desperately wanted him to be a part of it. Benton's words came back to her. * * * "Katie, my dear." Benton's big, callused hand cradled her cheek and his sparkling blue eyes pierced hers. "If anything happens to me, I want you to find Duncan MacLeod. He'll know what to do." "Henry wouldn't hurt you," Kate argued, trying to convince herself that her statement was true. "Nothing's going to happen." "At this point, I wouldn't put anything past Henry." He rubbed his thumb against the corner of her mouth. "I hate saying this to you but you have to know. I'm sorry I didn't take his head the first second I set eyes on him. He's not to be trusted and even you won't be safe from him if he thinks you're going to try to stop him. He pulled a business card out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. "The last I heard, Mac was running this antique store here in Seattle but the phone's been disconnected. He's either somewhere here or he has a barge in Paris, near the Notre Dame. Find him, tell him I sent you and explain everything. Listen to him, trust him with your life but don't take any shit from him. He'll keep you safe then do what needs to be done." "This is stupid, Bent. Why don't we just find Henry and reason with him. He's a kid, not a cold-blooded killer." Fear caused her voice to turn shrill. Benton's expression turned sympathetic and he brushed back a stray hair from her forehead. "But he is, Kate," he stated as compassionately as he could. "None of his so-called victories came from fair fights. He's ambushed five Immortals in the last month alone. No warning, no declaration of his intentions, he just cowered in a dark place then took their heads." He stared past her shoulder then closed his eyes in unvoiced agony. "And I told him about every single one of them." He focused his attention back on her. "MacLeod's the last one. Henry knows his name and knows he might be living around here." If only to appease him, Kate nodded her head in consent. "Okay, but only for argument's sake and because you won't give up till I give in." A little mischief sneaked into an otherwise bleak situation as she fed him the straight line. "How will I recognize this Duncan MacLeod?" A small, devious smile lifted the corners of Benton's mouth. "He's a short fellow, kind of puny." The joke they'd been sharing for the last three months. Compared to Benton, everyone was short and kind of puny. Kate, glad that a little humor could still wriggle its way into the big man's soul, smiled back and waited for the real description to come. "He's tall, about six feet, long dark-hair he was keeping in a ponytail last time I saw him and well-built. Looks like he's in his mid-thirties which has always been a sore point considering he was only twenty- nine when he suffered his First Death. And Kate, don't be put off by his attitude. He used to be a lot of fun in his younger days but from what I've heard, he's been taking things a little too seriously recently. So, no matter what your first impression is, remember, he's the most loyal and honorable man I've ever known." He paused and reflected inward for a moment then his countenance shifted into one of fierce conviction. "Of all the Immortals I've met over the past nine hundred odd years of this great life of mine, he truly is the *only* one who deserves the Prize. And I don't want him to lose his head to some snot-nosed little coward who lurks in the shadows. * * * That same snot-nosed little coward who took the gentle giant's head in the middle of the night as he slept. A small cry of sorrow escaped Kate's lips. Duncan's eyes snapped opened and, seeing her woeful expression, he sat up and opened his arms to her in a silent invitation. Without hesitation, she burrowed the side of her head into the curve of his shoulder and, for the first time in what seemed like years, felt a flood of security when those strong arms wrapped around her and held her close. "I swore I wasn't going to cry anymore," she hiccuped into his shirt. "Crying is healthy, Kate. It cleanses the soul." "Ha. When was the last time *you* cried." "Recently." She lifted her head and looked at him dubiously. "Really?" "Yes, really. Why would you doubt it?" "You just don't seem the crying type. You seem more the stoic, carrying-the-world-on-your-shoulders kind of guy." "I feel and respond to pain the same as you." "But you've seen so much death. I would have thought you'd become callus to it after so many years." He slipped his hand from her back, pressed it against her head and gently forced her back against him. "Never." She grew quiet and, after several minutes Duncan realized her breathing had changed into the slow rhythmic patterns of slumber. He shifted his body slightly to move into a more comfortable position for her which elicited a little murmur of protest but she didn't awaken. He leaned forward, pressed his lips against the softness of her hair then leaned back and prepared himself for a long, sleepless night. Hands. Warm, petal-soft hands. Stroking and teasing, awakening something within that he thought he'd quashed. Desire. Lust. Tenderness. All swirling together. Coalescing then breaking apart. All brought on by the ministrations of hands. Lips. Moist, tender lips stirring his flesh low on his belly, sending sensations of delight coursing throughout his body. Hot, sensuous lips sparking an ember that still had a danger of flaring into an inferno. Need. Want. Desire... More. Don't stop. Duncan's eyes flew open. He experienced an instant of disorientation. Nothing around looked familiar to his foggy brain, not even the dark, hair-covered head bent over his stomach. Then he remembered. Kate. Then he realized what had awakened him. Reaching down, he clasped her under her armpits and pulled her up to eye level, grunting in agony as her body dragged over his erection. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked angrily, teeth clenched to the point of pain. "You're not a virgin, Duncan. You know damn well what I was doing." She brought her face closer and gently grabbed his lower lip between her teeth. "I want you," she whispered, pressing her thigh harder against his zipper. A jolt of pure, unadulterated lust squeezed his testicles and, frightened by the intensity of it, he threw her off to get her away from him. Unhurt, Kate paused where she'd landed on the floor between the couch and the coffee table then sat up and stared at him, perplexity written on her features. "I know you want me, too, so I don't see what the problem is." "You don't understand," he growled She folded her arms under her breasts and exhaled an audible sigh of impatience. she lectured herself before she spoke. "Well, then explain it to me, otherwise, I'm going to get a serious complex from all this rejection." "Ah, Katie, I'm not rejecting you, I just don't want to hurt you." "I'm tougher than I look." She started to crawl back onto the couch. "Not tough enough." Duncan shifted away warily "How do you know how tough I am?" "Exactly my point, Kate. We don't know each other. If I come at you like a rutting animal, you're not going to understand why." She reached out a hand and laid it on his forearm. "But I do, Duncan. It's the Quickening." "Logically you might know but..." She snatched back her hand. "Don't tell me you've never been with a woman after taking someone's Quickening." "I won't lie to you. I've slept with women afterward but they weren't strangers like you are." "So your coming after them like a raging stallion didn't bother them?" He had the decency to blush and this time she could see the color clearly. "That only happened once. She learned how to compensate." "Well then, teach me how to compensate." She reached for him again and laid her hand on his chest over his heart. "Duncan, I want to make love with you. You, on the other hand, need to make love to me. I'm willing to learn. I really don't see a problem here." "You don't give up, do you?" "Benton told me not to take any shit from you. He told me I could trust you with my life. *I'm* only trusting you with my body." She dropped her hand to his waistband and gave his jeans a playful tug. When he didn't resist, she maneuvered her fingers under the shirt she'd pulled out earlier and touched the bare, taut skin of his belly. Duncan frantically searched for a breach in her logic but he was quickly losing the ability to string two words together. That insatiable demon awakened by the Quickening sprang to the fore with a vengeance and he was losing control. Every nerve-ending that her touch passed over sparked and fired until his entire being was alit and ready to explode. He couldn't move. He was a instrument of sensation and she played him like a pro. He didn't hear the pop of the snap or the rasp of the zipper but he felt her fingers the instant she wrapped them around his penis and his body bucked in response. Reaching climax didn't take long, he'd been hovering on the brink for hours. He jerked within her grasp one last time and pumped his empty seed into nothing. When he opened his eyes, he met the steady hazel-green gaze. She smiled tenderly and touched her forefinger to the end of his nose. "Better?" He was still half erect and there was a crick in his neck but he did feel better. Better than he had since he taken Henry's head so he nodded his head in confirmation. Then, as he stood up to right his clothes and rub the sore spot in his neck, he gave her a sheepish, quirky grin and inquired, "I don't suppose you have a bed?" "What, four hundred year old bones can't put up with making out on the couch?" He gave her a devilish smile and raised one eyebrow. "Making out is hardly the term I'd use for what I plan to do to you, imp." "Imp?" she exclaimed with effrontery . "I couldn't possibly qualify as an imp." "Ah, but you are, lass. A wee demon." He took her hand and led her out of the living room and into the long hallway where he waited for her to take over the lead. Continuing up the hallway, she turned into the second doorway on their right and led him into a large bedroom. The first word that came to Mac's head when she flipped on the light and he took in the decor was pink. Pink walls, pink curtains, pink comforter over a queen size bed with a pink dust ruffle. And white lace. Every pink frilly thing had a border stitched around it of white lace. The color, combined with the large pieces of red mahogany furniture, was again overpowering like the living room. "Cute, huh?" Kate commented. "Imagining having to grow up in this room." Duncan swiveled around and addressed her directly. "You don't seem the pink, lace and frills kind of woman." "I'm not. I think my defiant nature came out when I furnished my first apartment. Chrome and glass all the way." She wrinkled her nose in distaste and giggled. "It was awful. Luckily, I quickly outgrew that obstinate stage. I had a lot of nice pieces in my last place but now they're in storage. I swear, I'm going to tear this house from limb to limb and bring some life back to it." She walked over to the bed and yanked the comforter down to the foot, revealing ultra-feminine bed sheets of pink roses underneath. "It's really kind of funny. My mom was a warm, sweet, old- fashioned kind of woman. She kept the house, took care of my Dad, and raised me and then my brother. Your typical '60's kind of housewife. I have absolutely no idea where she came up with these dreadful decorating ideas and there was no stopping her. "I was sixteen when she re-did this room. I'm listening to Elvis Costello and the Talking Heads and she decorates my bedroom in pink frills. Boy, did we go round in circles over that one." "Looks like she won," Duncan chuckled. "Yeah and it'll probably break my heart if I try to change it." The hole left by her parents' death felt like a huge gapping wound at that moment and she shuddered in response to the pain. She was so weary of the emotional yo-yos. Duncan walked up to her and tenderly placed his finger under her chin. Tilting her face upward, he lowered his mouth to hers and began a slow perusal of her lips. He felt wonderful. He kissed expertly. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply and Kate had to hold on for dear life as the strength to keep herself standing upright waned. His lips felt soft and warm, a strong contrast to the beard around them that abraded her skin. She was going to have some major whisker burn by the end of the night. As though reading her mind, Duncan pulled away and gently brushed his left thumb over the sensitive skin right below her lower lip while his right hand rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I should probably do something about this," he said. Pausing for a second as his eyes searched her face, he then added with a smile, "Actually, a shower would be nice, too." Kate pulled herself out the sensuous daze his mere kiss had put her into and inclined her head toward a door on the opposite wall from the entry. "Help yourself, but be forewarned, the razor's been used on, oh horrors, legs." Taking a step toward the doorway, he grabbed the hem of his tee- shirt and stripped it off. "No problem," he answered, and before Kate could fully appreciate the pulchritude he'd unveiled, he disappeared through the bathroom door. Kate debated with herself for all of thirty seconds before the sound of the water running in the shower and the imprint of that glorious back still glowing in her retinas propelled her into action. Fingers already freeing the first button on her blouse, she entered the bathroom. She hastily added her clothes to the pile already laying on the floor and made her way to the glass door of the shower where she stood, enraptured by the form peeking through the mist. His eyes were closed and he was shaving, her delicate razor looking ridiculously small in his big hand as he adeptly maneuvered it over his face. She broke away from watching him shave and followed the strong column of his neck downward. Past the hollow in his throat that beckoned to her, past the broadest set of shoulders she'd ever seen in person, her eyes finally came to rest on the splash of dark hair that covered his chest. At that point, her resolve wavered momentarily. Although her fingers itched to touch those well-defined pectorals, she suddenly realized that her presence could be interpreted as an intrusion into his privacy. However, when the sight of his partial erection came into view, she decided he'd probably welcome her company and opened the shower door to join him. Duncan, startled by the noise, jumped in reflex. The razor slipped. He winced and yelled, "Ouch," simultaneously as the blade cut through skin leaving a path of blood extending three quarters of an inch along his jaw. Kate was mortified. She quickly reached up to staunch the flow but stopped mid-motion as a tiny spark of light flickered across the wound and it instantly disappeared. They stood motionless, eyes locked together while the water pour over them. Then a wave of hilarity hit her, sending her into gales of laughter. "I'll bet the people at Johnson & Johnson just hate you guys." She completed the move that brought her hand to his face and, with her thumb, wiped off the blood that remained. End of Part 5 ==================================================