========================================================================= Date: Mon, 29 Apr 1996 18:28:55 -0700 Reply-To: CF Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: CF Subject: ADULT: Waiting Games 2of3 REPOST NC-17 rating for graphic heterosexuality (with a little bondage thrown in for fun) Disclaimer: All these characters belong to Rysher Entertainment, I'm only playing with them for a little while (I wish) and I promise (drats) that I'll give them back when I'm done (only till the next time, though). A heartfelt thanks to Fiona Davidson who not only alpha and beta read but who also contributed some great visualization with some wonderful adjectives (sometimes I feel like I'm running out of them).=20 Comments, flames, etc. to cfc@goldrush.com CF cfc@goldrush.com Wimpy Western Wrider WAITING GAMES Part 2 of 3 "It's cold out here." Amanda's voice from behind broke into his thoughts. "Put this on." He hadn't noticed his exhalations blowing like steam from his nostrils until she mentioned the cold. He took the coat she offered and shrugged into it. "Do you ever wonder why, Amanda?" he asked sadly. "Why it's cold or the general meaning of life?" she responded flippantly. That brought a small smile to the corners of his mouth. "The general meaning of life. The purpose of immortality. Why some people are while most aren't?" She put an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "I've had occasion to but not recently. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that whatever is, is and whatever isn't, has yet to be and I can't worry about something I have no control over. I don't know if we Immortals were put on this earth for a reason other than as pieces in a grand cosmic chess game but that's how I see us. The Game. Two sides of a board with a series of checks and checkmates. It's warped, I know, but it's the only way I can get through from one day to the next. She stopped to study him for a moment. "He'll be okay, Duncan. You were a great teacher." "I feel so helpless," he admitted. "Even if you were there, you wouldn't be able to do anything." "I know." "So, let's go back to the barge." She pulled away from him and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "I'm freezing my tits off." As they strolled back, arm in arm, a gentle rain began to fall, cleansing only the outer layers of filth that covered the world. The inner squalor, as always, remained unaffected. Upon their return, knowing they'd both lost their appetites, Duncan wrapped up their barely touched sandwiches and put them in the refrigerator. Amanda, meanwhile, brought out a bottle of brandy, two snifters and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Come on, MacLeod. Let's drink a toast to the Game Masters. If it weren't for them, we never would have met." Duncan poured the drinks before joining her. "Adam has a thing for you." Anything, any topic of conversation that would keep his mind off of Richie. "Does he now?" she asked, giving the impression of honest interest. "Well, that's cute." She paused. "He's cute." After taking the offered glass, she walked her fingers down Duncan's thigh. "But he's not my type." "I didn't know you had a type." "Oh, but I do," she purred. "And I have for a very long time." She sidled up to him and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. Regarding him pensively, she took a slow sip of brandy. Leaving the snifter pressed against her lower lip, she exhaled a long sigh then said, "I really meant all those things I couldn't quite verbalize, you know?" "I know," he answered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I think I fell in love with you the first time I met you," she admitted. Then turning her head upward to look at him, she added with a smile, "Crafty barbarian that you were." "Was that before or after your stole my gold?" he teased. "Oh, I believe it was *while* I was stealing it. If you recall, you had the most interesting reaction." She laughed. "I've never had a man respond quite that way to being robbed." "I was so young and so naive." "I miss your accent." "I dinnae have an accent," he stated in a perfect brogue. "It made you seem so much younger and much more innocent." "I was cocky and long past innocent." "Brash but totally predictable, even then." "Is that a fact? "Yes, and you were adorable." "Amanda, I've been called a lot of things over the years but never have I heard the term adorable." "But you were, with your accent and your Highland bravado and your devil-may-care attitude." "How come you remember so much. As I recall we got so drunk we ended up passing out on the street outside the tavern." "Not quite, my dear." Amanda sat up, placed her snifter on the coffee table then returned to her former position, only slightly altered in order to face him fully. "*You* got so drunk you passed out. Rebecca and I were perfectly sober when we hauled you back to our place." "You what?" "It's true, Duncan," she told him, dead-pan serious. "We had lots of fun with you and when we were finished we hauled you back to the street and left you." "You're kidding, right?" He asked, lifting one eyebrow quizzically, not quite believing her while not totally disbelieving her. "Are you worried, Duncan?" She placed her palm against his stubbly cheek. "I wouldn't, darling. It happened over three hundred and fifty years ago." Seeing the doubtful expression on his face, she climb over him and straddled his lap. "I'd be more worried about what's going to happen in the next few minutes." She might have initiated the move but he quickly took over. Grabbing her by the waist, he yanked her to him. "What's to worry about?" he said before taking her mouth in one of those long, hot, wet kisses that took her breath away. His tongue dove past her teeth to the sweet, warmth inside and his lips danced with hers. "Oh, my, you sure do that well," she exhaled on a whisper when he finally released her. "But why did you stop?" Taking both of his cheeks into her hands, she pulled his face toward hers and returned the favor. His entire body instantly stiffened, followed by a shudder that wracked through him and Amanda instinctively knew he was thinking about Richie. Bound and determined to help him through the next six hours, if it was the last thing she ever did, she picked up his hand, gave it a little tug and smiled at him when he looked up at her guiltily. "Come on, big boy, let's go to bed," she suggested. Never letting go of him, she backed off his lap and stood up. "You go ahead. I think I'll stay up for awhile." She bent over him and, placing her hands on his shoulders, she gave the corded muscles a squeeze between her fingers and her thumbs. "You just single-handedly saved the life of every Immortal. You preserved the sanctity of the Watcher organization and you rid the world of one its greatest evils." She was undaunted when he tried to shrug her off, tightening her grip on him in response. "I know, I know, all in a day's work for Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, but, sweetie, as broad as these are, why doncha give 'em a break for a change?" His soulful brown eyes pleaded silently. "I know, Mac," she sympathized. "But you've done all you can. You trained him well and you taught him all the tricks, now it's up to him. You can't fight for him and worrying about him isn't going to help. He's a smart, agile kid. He'll be okay." "And if he isn't?" She chuckled softly and dropped her hands to his chest. "Has anyone ever told you that you're one helluva control freak? You're eight thousand miles away. There's nothing you can do. "Now, I'll offer you two options. I can stay here and help you pass the time the best way I know how or I can leave and you can brood and worry all by your little lonesome." When he didn't answer right away, she started to massage him through the material of his sweatshirt. "Time's almost up, Mr. MacLeod," she coaxed. "Behind door number one you'll find a trip or two or three to paradise or, if you choose door number two, you'll find your own personal sojourn in hell. Which one'll it be?" Without exchanging a word, an expression of capitulation washed over his face and she greeted it lovingly. She reclaimed his hand, straightened up and pulled him to his feet. "You know, big guy, you're not as dumb as you look." "Thanks," he deferred as he allowed her to lead him to the bedroom. They stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at each other for several seconds, neither one of them sure who should make the first move. Amanda broke the spell when she gathered the hem of his shirt in her fists and peeled it off of him, inside out, but he continued to stand like a statue. "This isn't a punishment, Mac. Quit acting like it is." "Sorry. I guess I'm not in the mood." She reached out and tantalizingly circled around his left nipple with a fingernail. "Give me a minute, you soon will be." He pressed his hand over hers to still it. "Pretty confident, aren't you?" "With most men, usually, but with you, always." Using her free hand, she repeated the motion along the sensitive skin behind his right ear. "You forget. I know where all your buttons are." Her efforts were rewarded when she saw the goose bumps rise on his skin. "And," she added, "After what you did earlier, I owe you." A devilish grin lit up her face. Closing the gap between them, Amanda replaced her finger with her mouth and gently laved the spot with her tongue. He tasted like rain and smelled like the forest, all woodsy and clean, a scent uniquely his own. Slowly, she started pushing him backward toward the bed, until the edge of mattress caught him behind the knees and he was forced to sit. "Right where I want you," she gloated and, kneeling down, she pulled off his wet running shoes. In his haste to leave earlier, he'd forgone socks and now his damp feet were cold to the touch. Rubbing them briskly between her palms elicited a moan of contentment. "You are so easy, MacLeod," she teased. He smiled down at her then ruffled the hair on the top of her head. "Not as easy as you, my dear," he reminded her. "That was dirty pool," she huffed, remembering how easily he had manipulated her. "It doesn't count." "When did we start keeping score? I didn't know this was a competition." "Everything with you is a competition." "Not everything," he disagreed and reached for her. Amanda adeptly dodged his hands. "No-no-no-no-no-no," she sang as she settled back on her haunches just outside his arm span. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm the one in charge here. You just keep your hands to yourself till I tell you otherwise." She eyeballed him critically. "And if you can't exhibit a little self-control, I'm sure I can find a way to help you." Picking up one of his discarded socks, she waved it around menacingly. "You wouldn't," he dared. "Try me, buddy." "You couldn't." She moved so fast, he didn't have time to react. One second they were staring each other down and in the next, she had a firm yet harmless grasp around his testicles. "We can do this my way or we can do this my way," she challenged coyly. "Which one'll it be, Highlander?" "You're not leaving me much choice," he submitted while squirming uncomfortable under her grip. "I guess it'll be your way." "Ooh, baby," she cooed and started massaging him provocatively. "I always knew you were a smart boy." Duncan closed his eyes and, giving in to her ministrations, he shifted slightly to allow her better access. "I thought you said I wasn't as dumb as I look," he groaned. "That too." She laid a hand on his stomach and, ever so slowly began working her way downward with light feathering strokes, teasing the short hairs that grew beneath his navel, passing beneath the elastic waistband but avoiding the erection that laid against his lower belly. He squirmed, trying to put his penis under her fingers, but she darted away, reaching instead for the waistband and giving it a tug. "Let's get rid of this. It's ruining my form." Duncan, more eager than she to get rid of the interfering sweatpants, moved to strip them off. "I don't remember telling you you could move," she informed him, her tone feigning impatience. "Ach, come on, Amanda," he complained. "I've *been* moving and you didnae say anything." "Oh, what fun," she mentioned offhandedly then pulled his pants off. "I can tease the brogue out of you." And she did just that by lightly running her tongue up the underside of his shaft, stopping just short of the tip. His whole body bucked in response. "'Tha' isnae teasing, it's mair like torture." Unable to stop himself, he again reached for her. Grabbing his wrist, she gave it a yank and scolded, "That's one transgression too many, MacLeod." She jumped to her feet, dashed to the chest of drawers and brought out two articles of clothing, one of which was a tee-shirt and the other, a pair of silk boxers. "Present from one of your lady friends?" she asked, waving the checked shorts above her head. He brought his elbows under him in a move to sit up. "Don't you dare get up," she warned. Slowly advancing with her eyes fixed on the head of the bed, she let out an exasperated sigh. "We definitely have to go shopping. You don't have a headboard." She flicked one of the shutters closed in disgust. "How am I going to make this work without a headboard?" Duncan skeptically checked above his head. "Just what do you have in mind?" "Use your imagination, dear," she offered then grabbed his right hand. Climbing over him, she wrapped one end of the tee-shirt around his wrist then took the other end and tried to weave it through the shutters behind the bed. "I thought you said this wasn't a punishment," he reminded her, resisting the temptation to reclaimed his arm, a feat he could have easily accomplished if he'd wanted to. "Oh, pooh, there's too much material," Amanda muttered to herself. "It won't fit." She stopped trying to force the bunch between two slats and turned a beguiling smile toward Duncan "I don't suppose you have a long scarf?" His shock and surprise that she would even think that he'd help her plucked the power of speech right from his lungs. He could only give her a dumbfounded look. "Oh never mind," she said disgustedly as she climbed off the bed. "I'll find something myself." The search took awhile. After rummaging through every dresser drawer, both nightstand drawers and the big trunk, she finally found a long, white, silk scarf draped around the collar of Duncan's formal overcoat hanging in the closet. Turning back, she started sashaying toward him. "This will do very nicely." "Be careful with that. It was a gift from Tessa." "Oh, how apropos," she replied with glee while taunting him by slowly dragging the silk over her palm. "She, of all people would agree with this wholeheartedly." Amanda crawled back onto the bed and straddled his stomach. "After all, she spent thirteen years with the control freak from hell. She's probably cheering me on at this very minute." Tying one end of the scarf to his right wrist, she threaded the other through the shutter slats and wove it around to the other side. Pulling it taut which brought his right arm over his head, she forced his left arm up and tied the loose end around his wrist. Other than the fact that he was intrigued, Duncan had no idea why he was submitting to this but he was, and with complete docility. "This is a side of you I've never seen before," he mentioned cautiously. she thought. "Well, I figure since our relationship has turned this major corner, so should our sex-life." She twisted around and regarded his bare, and still free legs. Deep in thought, she brought a forefinger up and tapped it against her temple a couple of times. "I don't suppose you have any more scarves." She swivel back and gave him a beatific smile. "Do you?" "Amanda, you've already got me trussed up like a Christmas goose," he grumbled. "What more do you want?" He tested the bonds and discovered the more he tugged on them the tighter they became. "Manger knots, dear. Good for something besides horses. The more you fight them, the more unforgiving they become." She flaunted her control by toying with the loose end dangling from his left wrist. "Yet, if I pulled this, you'd be free in a second." "I know what a manger knot is. The question is, how long are you going to keep this game up?" "Oh, I don't know." She tried to convey disinterest but had a real difficult time suppressing the mirth bursting to get out. "Probably as long as you are." She passed her hand behind her and ran her fingers teasingly up his erection. "Up, that is." "Criosda, you are treading a very thin line." "I know," she acknowledged. "But I've been wanting to do this for such a long time. I just never thought I'd get away with it." She leaned down and took the point of his chin into her mouth. His beard tickled her lips and tongue but it was not an unpleasant sensation. Slowly, she worked her way along his jaw and down to his neck. He immediately tensed. "Funny thing about we Immortals," she observed. "Pretty much all of us have this same reaction but if you can't trust me, Duncan, who can you trust." And she lingered in the curve of his neck, gently suckling on the soft place where she could feel his pulse beating "Whoever said I trusted you?" he asked, surprised that she could even consider that a possibility "Oh, relax," she instructed. "I guarantee, you're going to like this. I swear, you'd bitch if you were hung with a new rope." And she nipped the skin of his throat lightly. He chuckled. "I have been and the experience taught me that the old ones are much better." "Well, we finally agree on something." She climbed off of him and laid down alongside his length, bringing her leg up to rest on his thigh. Idly curling his chest hairs around a finger, she turned reflective and asked, "Which brings up another strange topic. Have you ever sat down and tried to count how many times you've died?" One of his eyebrows lifted curiously. What a strange subject to bring up when he was totally naked and tied to a bed. "No, but I'm guessing you have." Her finger skirted closer to his nipple. "Once. I believe I got up to about fifty-three then gave up." She changed positions and switched to her mouth, pressing light little kisses all around his chest. "It was too depressing and I hadn't even gotten to the Renaissance yet." Duncan's whole body suddenly jerked. "If you don't pay attention to what you're doing," he warned through clenched teeth. "You'll suffer your last one before we hit the new millennium." Looking down, she noticed her knee was digging into his groin. "Oops. Sorry. Want me to kiss it to make it better?" She turned back to watch his face as she reached down and let the weight of his scrotum fill her hand. His eyes fluttered closed and a deep moan rumbled up from low in his chest. Without warning, she instantly became overwhelmed by the depth of emotion she felt for this man, this gentle, courageous, noble man who, no matter how wrong she was or whatever mess she got herself into, protected her and did his best to keep the world's ills at bay. He might complain about it, which he did incessantly. He might lecture her about it, which he did ceaselessly, but ever since she'd known him, he'd always come through for her. And, if she lived for a thousand more years, she'd never find a way to repay him. "I love you, Duncan." The words effortlessly whispered from her soul like a prayer and once they were out, she couldn't stop the torrent of need that surged through her. A need to show him that the words she hadn't been able to utter before now without jest were the absolute truth. That no matter how many times she'd said those words to others, until now they had been meaningless. That the sentiment didn't even come close to adequately describing the tightening in her chest when she thought about him or the wealth of emotion boiling up from the inside that made her want to cry out from the sheer pleasure/pain of it. Duncan had no idea what had caused the change but within a heartbeat, the atmosphere had shifted from playful to something of a serious nature, completely atypical behavior for Amanda. Knowing how uncomfortable she could be around open displays of what she defined as mush, and seeing the tears about to spill over from her lower lids, Duncan decided the situation called for a little levity. He cleared his throat in preamble, gave her a wicked smile when he finally had her attention, then jerked on his bonds. "Um, was there a purpose to this or were you just seeing if you could do it?" Amanda sat up and nervously swiped her eyes. Nobody knew her as well as he did. Nobody, but he, understood the reason for the carefree facade she presented to the rest of the world. If you pretended you didn't care, no one would know they could hurt you. But deep down there was a vulnerable woman who felt pain keenly and only he knew how much she hated when that weakness came to the surface. She swallowed her tears and forced herself out of the melancholy. There had been a purpose to this little game, keep Duncan distracted with a little mindless passion, but if she got emotional, he would too, and knowing him and how his brain worked, that would lead back to Richie. "A little of both," she answered, her smile a tad bit forced at first but quickly changing to genuine as she perused his form stretched out on the bed. "You really are something to look at," she marveled while working her eyes and fingers down the underside of his left arm. Her fingers, featherlight on the fine skin, traced the curve of bicep as he tensed and then lingered over the sensitive are just beneath his armpit. He twitched slightly as, grinning at him, she teased the taut lines of muscle on his flank as she worked her way downward to his hip. "Yeah, well," he began, his eyes jumping back and forth between her face and the rest of her which was still fully clothed. "Right this second, I'm feeling just a wee bit underdressed. So unless you're planning to draw a picture, would you mind doing something about it?" "Poor Duncan." She pursed out her lower lip in mock sympathy and circled his hipbone. "What do you suggest?" "Oh no you don't. This was all your idea and, even if it wasn't," he pulled against the scarf again, "I'm not really in a position to do anything. But please, whatever you decide, do it quickly, my arms are about ready to fall off." "You know me better than that," she chided and started unbuttoning her dress ever so slowly. What foresight she'd had, putting her own clothes back on again after talking to Richie. The action of seductively slipping a pearlescent stud from a buttonhole then lingering to touch her exposed skin was much more enticing than peeling an oversized sweatshirt over her head. And seeing his reaction to her little striptease, with the sweat starting to glisten on his forehead, definitely made it worth the effort. Ah, yes, making love to Duncan while in complete control for the first time in their relationship was something to be savored and now that she was back on track, she had every intention of driving him crazy. "I may bungle everything else," she purred. "But when it comes to sex, everything I do is carefully planned." She let gravity take the dress from her shoulders to pool around her waist. Duncan swallowed nervously. "Like what you see?" She stood up on the bed, shimmied out of her underwear and dragged them and the dress across his upper thighs before dropping them on the floor next to the bed. Turning back, she casually glanced down at his erection then crossed her arms under her breasts. "I guess you do." Her tone couldn't have sounded more disinterested. "Damn you, Amanda," he cursed venomously. "Untie me." She bounced down to her knees near his feet, turned her back toward his face then, after wiggling her butt at him, she bent over and started nipping at his big toe. "In due time," she replied sweetly then started a series of kisses up his leg. Displaying rare patience, she drew her tongue over the curve of his calf, teasing the tender skin behind one knee and then lingering to nip and suckle it for a while. Duncan groaned his frustration and tried to squirm away from her. He only succeeded in encouraging her to shift her attention to the muscles of his inner thigh where she dawdled for a time. "Forget about the millennium," he threatened and tested the scarf for about the millionth time. "You're dead the second I get out of this." "Idle threats, Duncan," she laughed. "You'll thank me when I'm finished." He took in a full look at the view she was offering to him then fixed his eyes on the ceiling. Exhaling a sigh of exasperation, he muttered, "If I'm not dead by then." She tsked and gave him a reproachful look. "Contrary to popular belief, I highly doubt that a man's ever died of terminal frustration," she stated. "But look at it this way." She turned around, climbed over him and settled herself between his legs. Looking up at him speculatively for a second, she grinned wickedly and ran her nails lightly up the inside of his thighs. He twitched and shot her a baleful glare, encouraging her to continue the torture over the sensitive skin of his lower belly, very careful to skirt his erection, before she relented and leaned down to wrap her lips around one of his testicles. She sucked on it for a second then glanced up at his face. His eyes were closed, the sweat was dripping off of him and he groaned a protest when she'd stopped. "If you're the first, you'll be dying happy. And, when you wake up, we can start all over again." "A knife through the heart would be less painful," he croaked. End of 2 =================================================