========================================================================= Date: Mon, 29 Apr 1996 18:29:05 -0700 Reply-To: CF Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: CF Subject: ADULT: Waiting Games 3of3 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 3 of 3 "But not nearly as much fun." She leaned in again and paused just above him - her breath teasing along his entire, painfully hard length. Still not quite ready to let go of this entertainment, she teased him with a couple of very light flicks of her tongue, each one making him twitch and strain towards the welcome of her mouth, and each time she drew back out of reach. Duncan gritted his teeth again, determined not to beg, or worse, whimper. But he couldn't take much more of this. "Amanda." It was both a plea and a warning and she ran her hand up his thigh and curled it around his penis-leaning in to run her tongue over the tip. "There, there, " she cooed. "Feel better now?" He lifted his head and glared at her. She demurred. Generally, Duncan was a patient man but maybe she'd carried this teasing a little too far. Straddling his hips and guiding him, she slowly lowered herself onto him. She'd toyed with him for far too long. Between that and the effects of the Quickening he'd taken earlier, he couldn't wait for her. The fact that he was still tied up to the shutters and couldn't take full control slowed him down somewhat and maybe if his hands had been free he would have been able to bring her with him but as it was, he came quickly and long before she was ready. Once his head cleared and his breathing returned to normal, he realized that tingling sensation coming from his hands was the feeling of the circulation returning to his fingers. His arms were finally free. Opening his eyes, he saw Amanda smiling warmly down on him. "I kinda forgot you were still UIQ." "That's an interest term for it," he mused while stretching the kinks out of his shoulders. She slid off of him and sprawled out on the bed. "No, really, I did, Duncan. I'm sorry. No wonder you were so pissed." She paused for a moment then turned onto her side and brought her hand up to lean her head against. "How bad was it up there?" The idea of glossing over the fight with Kalas crossed Duncan's mind, he'd never been one to dwell on the gruesome details, but something about this last confrontation bothered him and maybe by verbalizing he could discover the reason. "It was too easy," he stated boldly and realized that was what was bothering him. Kalas had been an opponent he'd lost to on more than one occasion, an opponent who had always seemed two steps ahead of Duncan, yet, the victory had been gained with relative ease. "What do you mean?" "Just what I said. Kalas was always better than I was but he seemed off. Nothing I can put my finger on exactly but if I had to guess, it was almost like he wanted to lose." "Maybe he did. He thought, in the event of his death, the Watcher files would become public. Maybe he figured that was the ultimate revenge against you, not only destroying those you care about but turning your life into a living hell 'cause that's what would have happened if that file got released." Duncan gave a soft chuckle. "That's not what you said the other day. If I may, you mentioned something along the lines of, quote, we've survived witch hunts before, end quote." "I lied." Her expression changed into one of abject horror. "Do you know what would happen if they knew about us?" The very thought of massive beheadings releasing hundreds of Quickenings that would home in on those Immortals awaiting their fate was overwhelming. "It would make the Reign of Terror look like a garden party." "There aren't enough of us to make that analogy." "I was referring to the fireworks but that brings up another subject. How do we know how many of us are out there? I'll bet there are people roaming around who have no idea what they are and just think they're extremely lucky or very healthy. I mean, look at you. You ran around for years before Connor found you. You had no idea what you were till someone told you." "What happened to me is totally irrelevant. The world's a helluva lot smaller now than it was then. People move around and if someone sensed another Immortal they'd immediately know it was something other than the twenty-four hour virus." "Would they? Describe what you feel when I'm around." Duncan gave her a devious smirk. She punched him in the shoulder. "Other than horny, Duncan," she scolded. "I'm serious. Don't you feel a kind of tingling all over and you can't honestly determine if it's internal or external?" "I guess." "When's the last time you OD'd on caffeine?" "It's nothing like that," he insisted. "I know that but if you didn't know what it was, couldn't you mistake it for something along those lines?" "That'd be one helluva coffee buzz." "Agreed. Yet, there could be some people who just stay in their own little cocoon and never travel at all therefore, they've never felt another Immortal. Good old Aunt Bea who's never left Mayberry." "Be serious, Amanda. Don't you think Aunt Bea would notice she's not getting any older? And if she didn't, everyone else in Mayberry would and they'd all start getting a little suspicious. An Immortal might walk around for a few years not knowing what he or she is but eventually," he hesitated for several seconds as a fleeting memory flashed into his brain then fluttered away before he could grasp it fully. "Someone always finds them." Suddenly, with images of Richie filling his head, he turned over on his side, reached for the telephone and picked up the receiver. "Don't, Duncan," Amanda warned, knowing exactly what he was doing. As she grabbed his side to roll him back over, she glanced at the clock and was disappointed that she'd only managed to keep him occupied for an hour and a half. "He's got enough to think about without you bothering him." She gently took the receiver from him and crawled over him to replace it. "Leave him be." "But..." "No buts. I know it's a difficult concept for you to grasp but sometimes your mother hen act gets irritating. You can't protect everyone all the time." The remembrance of his earlier nightmare came rushing back and he could almost feel Tessa's lifeless body again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the picture but the image seemed to be imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. "I never claimed I could," he mourned. She cradled his cheeks within her palms and tenderly pressed her lips against his left temple. "No, you never have but you're always trying. It is one of the reasons why I love you but sometimes your selflessness drives me crazy." *Stay noble, MacLeod. It's what you're good at.* Delivered as it had with such venomous hatred, the statement had been more curse or sentence than mere observation and now, hours later, he shuddered in response. Amanda felt the tremor travel through him. "Okay, MacLeod, now what?" "Nothing." He rolled back over and moved to get out of the bed. She latched a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Oh no you don't. You're not leaving this bed. You owe me." The smile he tossed over his back was less than enthusiastic but genuine, nonetheless. "According to my count, we're about even right now." "That one doesn't count 'cause you tricked me. And I'm not letting you go sit on the couch to pout by yourself for the next several hours. It's payback time." "I can't, Amanda," he admitted then completed the move to stand up. She reluctantly left the warmth of the covers and followed him. Sinking down on the couch and wrapping an afghan around her, she quietly watched him replenish the wood stove. So oblivious to his surroundings, she doubted he knew she was in the room with him. Her assumption was confirmed when, satisfied that the fire was adequately stoked, he spun around and seemed truly surprised to see her. She lasciviously perused his naked form from top to bottom. "Just admiring the view and all I can say is, whoever's in charge of this Game sure picked a good specimen to bestow immortality upon." She ran her eyes from his broad shoulders, past the finely shaped pectorals to his perfectly proportioned hips then back to his face. She let out an admiring sigh before she spoke. "And I wish I could congratulate the person who killed you the first time. His timing was impeccable." "You aren't bad yourself," he replied, although she could tell his heart wasn't into the compliment. He watched her open the afghan wide as an invitation for him to join her but he hesitated. If he accepted, she would take his action as acquiescence and he really wasn't in the mood for more sex. She'd adequately described his state of mind earlier when she'd taunted him with the word "pout." He wanted to sulk. He wanted to indulge in his depression. He'd just managed, barely, to get past this latest crisis and, before he had time to catch his breath, another had raised its ugly head. That's all his life seemed to be anymore, surviving one calamity only to find another awaiting him around the next corner. What was the point? He'd only been back in the Game for a couple of years but maybe it was time to crawl back to the cabin and spend some time in isolation. Or maybe the fact that he'd already lived more than five times what a human was supposed to was enough of a reason to end it. Maybe the time had come for him to find a willing Immortal who would take his head. Amanda or Richie. No, it should be Methos. "Where are you, Duncan." Amanda's voice broke into his reverie. Looking down at her, he saw her arms were still spread out which totally exposed her naked body to him. She certainly was something to behold, all soft curves covered by creamy skin. Her firm breasts sloped perfectly to rose-colored aureoles that surrounded nipples made taut by the cold. Her slightly rounded belly led his eyes downward to the triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs and he felt his body start to respond as male was meant to respond to female. All thoughts of self-sacrifice disintegrated as he watched her gaze move from his hardening penis to his face and her expression changed from concupiscence to one he could only identify as loving. Something beside his body stirred at that look and he couldn't resist going to her. She opened up to him and, without preamble, he slipped inside. The feeling of homecoming was overwhelming as her warm, tight body surrounded his and he lay still for a moment, reveling in the sensation. How could he have considered death when there was still so much life coursing through his veins? How could he have even toyed with the idea when this woman who he loved, no matter how much he tried to deny it, still had so many facets he'd yet to explore? He felt her body arch under his then suddenly her hands were on his buttocks, forcing him deeper. The nerves in the base of his spine replied to her bidding and he started a slow rhythm. Quickening be damned, he was going to take her with him this time but that was going to require every ounce of self-control he possessed. Already, he could feel the pressure building way too quickly so he stopped moving and struggled to regain dominance over his body's urge for completion. Amanda whimpered her disappointment but, knowing why he'd stopped, she wrapped her arms around his head and directed him to her right breast. "It's okay," she consoled while wiping the sweat off his back with the afghan. Duncan latched onto her nipple and began suckling her while he snaked his hand between their bodies until he reached the place where they were joined. Trying desperately to keep from moving, he slipped two fingers into her moist folds and lightly rubbed her clitoris. Immediately, she began shifting around to put his fingers where she wanted them which caused his precarious control to slip a few notches. In an effort to keep from answering her and with the sweat now pouring out of every pore of his skin, he concentrated on her breast then her collarbone then her other breast, licking and sucking and nipping. He felt her fingernails scrape into his back then her hands dropped down to his buttocks again. Curving under him and digging her fingers into flesh, she forced him in as far as he could go. He lost the battle and gave into his body's need to thrust. All coherent thought gone, he plunged into her as the waves of her orgasm contracted through her and around him. Instinct drove him until the muscles in his lower back convulsed, his body stiffened and, surging one last time, he spilled deep within her. When awareness returned, Duncan wearily lifted his head then searched Amanda's contented expression. "I'm right here," he finally answered her. Dropping his lips to hers, he gave her a little confirming peck. "Yeah," she confirmed breathlessly. "I guess you are..." The ringing telephone cut off whatever else she was going to say. Telephone calls received at two-forty-five a.m. rarely conveyed good news and, as a result, Duncan's chest immediately tightened in fear. Scrambling off of Amanda, he frantically searched for the cordless phone but although he could hear the damn thing, he couldn't pinpoint its exact location. In a fit of pique, he threw an irritated glance toward his housemate, positive that she was the culprit because she was the one who was always forgetting to put the receiver back on the base. "I swear, I didn't do it this time, MacLeod," she boldly informed him and joined in the search. "I distinctly remember putting it back." When he finally found the still trilling receiver stuffed into the top left drawer of his desk, he knew that he was indeed, the guilty party. Now, after the fact, he even remembered when he'd shoved it in there; right after his last conversation with Kalas when they'd set up the time and place of their confrontation. "MacLeod," he announced just in time to hear the click of disconnection. Fighting off the urge to hurl the offending device into a wall, he turned a half-pathetic, half-infuriated look toward Amanda as he pulled the receiver away from his ear. "Try Adam's," she suggested calmly. "That's where Joe's staying." "It could've been Richie." He almost sounded panic-stricken. "Try Adam first. If it wasn't him, then try Richie. Okay?" While Duncan attacked the keypad like a madman, punching numbers wildly, hitting the wrong ones and having to hang up and try again, Amanda watched in awe. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen the cool, level-headed Highlander behave like this, so irrationally and so totally out of control. Reaching out to take the receiver from him, she suggested, "Let me do that. What's the number?" "55.63.84.67," he replied, giving up the phone without an argument. She quickly entered the number and before the connection was made, she handed the device back to him but he didn't take it. Instead, he silently pleaded for her to complete the call. If the news was bad, coming from her might keep the truth removed from reality, even if only for a little while. Methos did not sound at all like his usual friendly self when he answered on the first ring. "MacLeod, that'd better be you or I'm gonna be pissed at whoever is calling me at this ungodly time of the morning." "It's me, Adam," Amanda replied. "Did you just try to call?" "Yeah, where's MacLeod?" She flashed a quick look at the man in question who stood frozen with dreaded anticipation then turned her attention back to the phone. "He's here. What's up?" Duncan watched Amanda's face closely for clues during the one sided conversation that consisted mainly of "Uh-huh."..."Yeah."..."I understand."..."Absolutely."..."Okay, I'll tell him." Her countenance was still unreadable even after she hung up the phone. Unable to contain himself any longer, he grasped her upper arms in his hands and forced her to look directly at him. "Well?" "Adam overheard Joe talking to Mike and thought you might appreciate an update. It seems Klamath tried to ambush Richie but your bright, young protege anticipated the guy's lack of integrity and thwarted his plans." She laid her hands on his forearms and rubbed them a couple of times. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about. Richie knows what he's doing." The news that Richie was still alive affected Duncan like a near- miss traffic accident. His knees, turned weak after the adrenaline cleared his bloodstream, wobbled precariously under his weight. To keep from collapsing, he carefully lowered himself to the couch before continuing the interrogation. "What happened?" "Mike's report was a bit rushed and Adam only had sketchy details but, evidently Felix tried to surprise Richie after the dojo closed by hiding behind a car parked next to the motorcycle. Adam thinks this guy is such a novice he forgot about the little fact the we can sense each other. Richie had him pegged the second he reached the bottom step so instead of taking the bike home, he took the T- Bird." "He's driving my car?" Once the words escaped his mouth, Duncan had the grace to realize how ridiculous what he'd just said sounded. Only two minutes before he'd been worried about the kid's life and now he was questioning that the young man had used his car. He met Amanda's stern expression with a sheepish one of his own. "So now what? Are they still going to meet at the appointed time?" "Adam didn't say so I'll assume yes." Duncan grimaced as he checked out the clock. Four hours. Four hour of wondering and worrying and teeth chattering fear. How would he ever endure them? He started pacing back and forth along the length of the barge. The phone rang again. "What now?" Duncan growled into the receiver. "Mac?" The voice on the other end was Richie's. Duncan both relaxed and tensed at the same time. "Sorry, Rich. What's up?" "I just wanted to let you know I had to use the T-Bird. I'm sorry I couldn't ask first but it was kind of an emergency. I promise I won't wreck it and I'll replace all the gas I use before I bring it back." Duncan couldn't help himself, despite the severity of the situation, he couldn't keep a smile from curling up the corners of his mouth. Once a teenager, forever a teenager and even though the kid's life on the line he was worried about the repercussions of taking "Dad's" car without permission. "You just make sure you're around to re-fill it, okay?" "Sure thing. I'll call you as soon as it's over. And, Mac..." The younger man hesitated for a second before he continued, his voice choking on emotion as he spoke. "Just in case, I want you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me. Thanks doesn't even come close but it's all I can come up with right now, so thank you." "Watch your head, Richie," Duncan stated matter-of-factly and, without waiting for a reply, he hung up. Turning toward Amanda, he announced, "I need some air," then, grabbing a robe on the way, he walked out. Amanda couldn't take anymore of this waiting around and watching Duncan crumble. She'd seen that defeated, helpless look wash across his face before he'd turned to go and it cut her to the quick. Grabbing the telephone, she locked herself in the bathroom for privacy then dialed Adam's number again. It was time to gather some information about Felix Klamath and if it took a swift kick in someone's butt to accomplish this, her foot was going to be the one to deliver the blow. The sudden image of his young protege's head laying three feet from his body flashed into Duncan's brain, causing his concentration to break and, as a result, he stepped wrong. Coming down awkwardly, a burst of pain exploded up from a ligament ripping in his knee which sent him crumpling downward in a blaze of agony. He lay there, squirming in misery for several moments but then the phenomenon of his race kicked in and the injury healed itself, leaving him completely fit again. Yet, he remained where he was, oblivious to the cold and wet permeating up from the pavement through his robe as Richie's last words echoed in his mind. He wondered if he, the righteous Duncan MacLeod, had ever had the decency to come right out and thank Connor for everything the older man had done for him. He strained to remember some event, some setting where the words might have been spoken but he couldn't recall ever uttering them. He had plenty of memories of those times when the sentiment had been implied, when departures had consisted of a nod of the head and the speaking of a name but never had he told the elder MacLeod how much he valued what his clansman had given him...the means to survive, and that thought alone made him shudder. Pulling himself up, Amanda's words came back to him. "Whatever is, is. Whatever isn't, has yet to be. And I can't worry about something I have no control over." He resolved in that instant that the second he got inside he'd make a call to New York and he'd stop worrying about Richie. There was nothing he could do about the situation anyway. As a teacher, he'd done his job. His pupil, bright, eager and energetic, had paid attention and had learned well the skills needed to stay alive. Duncan knew he'd rarely given the kid credit where credit was due and promised silently that if he saw Richie...no, *when* he saw Richie again, things would be different. Amanda met him at the door with a towel and his sweats. Without a word, he shed the robe, let it drop to the floor, and dried himself on the way to the wood stove. After dressing, he finally looked up and saw her beaming at him, a huge smile lighting up her entire face. Whatever secret she was withholding, she wasn't going to be keeping it for very long. "Richie called," she announced. "It's over." He cocked an eyebrow in askance then read the clock. The bright LED numbers 3:27 glowed from the face. He couldn't seem to comprehend. The challenge wasn't supposed to take place until sometime around seven. How could it be over? He'd just talked to Richie not a half an hour before. Amanda saw the confusion play across his face. "It's over, Duncan. Richie's okay." Duncan allowed his body to fall to the couch then took the snifter of brandy she was offering to him. Over. Just one little word and all the pressure that had been building for the past few hours was released. He suddenly felt buoyant and optimistic. "How?" "Felix was waiting for him at the apartment," she explained. "He'd broken in and trashed the place." "Might be an improvement," was all Duncan said as he took a slow sip of brandy and recalled the condition of Richie's apartment the last time he'd seen it. Clothes, clean and dirty, had been draped over every piece of furniture, dishes had been piled up in the sink and CD's had littered every available flat surface that hadn't already been covered with well leafed through racing magazines. "Hush, now, Duncan," she chided then, plopping down next to him, she returned to her recounting. "Anyway, when Richie entered the apartment, he felt the presence of an Immortal but no one was inside. The window, however, was open so he followed the intruder down the fire escape and, lo and behold, there in the alley he found Felix Klamath, sword drawn, ready to deliver a killing blow..." "But Richie already had the rapier out and parried the attack," he finished for her. It was part one of a combination of moves they'd practiced over and over again until the young man had almost screamed out his boredom. "Yes, then he twirled around..." "And Felix Klamath became history," Duncan finished again. Part two of the combination that had saved Duncan's head on more than four occasions. "You're spoiling my story," she whined. "Sorry," he apologized then leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. On his way back to his side of the couch he grabbed the cordless from the coffee table and started punching numbers. "He's not home. He's off to Joe's for a well deserved drunk and he's putting it on your tab." "Good." He continued to dial the phone. Once he was finished, he lifted his arm as an invitation for Amanda to cuddle up while he waited for the overseas connection to click over. She didn't hesitate and quickly snuggled into his warmth. The phone rang in Duncan's ear. "I told you he wasn't home. Why don't we get a little shut-eye and call him in the morning." Duncan ignored her and counted the rings. Five...six...seven. "What?!" "Connor?" THE END.