Warning: Pure, unadulterated sex ahead. Serious NC-17 of the slash variety. That means men. And more men. No women, understand? Plot? We didn't bother. Substance? We left it out. Sex? Nothing else! Nothing implied, we spelled it all out (and we spelled it correctly, so don't bother to check). You won't have to think about it, we gave you all the details.
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Disclaimers: Needless to say this story is not meant to profit from the creations of Davis/Panzer or Rysher. The characters belong to them...the warped imagination is ours.
This story begins immediately following the episode Chivalry.
"Umph!" Richie punched the bag, causing it to swing wildly. He'd put all the hurt, betrayal and anger behind that last jab and it still didn't feel any better. He was not only mad at Kristin, but himself, Mac, and even that Adam character who'd showed up just in time to witness his adolescent humiliation. God, he hated being naive!
Methos rode the elevator down and felt Richie's presence before the elevator reached dojo level. The kid wouldn't be too thrilled to see him he wagered mentally, but life was full of little disappointments. He'd get used to it in a couple hundred years...if he lived that long. He stopped in the lift cage, quietly watching the youth working out his aggression on the bag. He knew the kid must have felt his approach, yet he hadn't even looked up. Bad news, that. At this rate, Richie wouldn't live to see 30, let alone ten times that long.
Before exiting the lift, Methos took a moment to admire the sweat-drenched body displayed before him. Always a lover of art and beautiful things, he had to admit that the boy did have the sort of build, toned and hardened from life on the streets and Mac's sword practice, that was not unpleasing to the eye. His shoulders weren't too broad, but well proportioned to his chest, whose chiseled lines were softened by the soft blonde mat of hair covering his torso. Richie's sweatpants fit comfortably, yet managed to stretch snugly across his rear and thighs. Methos shook his head, clearing the thoughts the image of young Richard Ryan were causing, and stepped out into the closed dojo. Night had fully fallen and only a dim overhead bulb lit his way to the frustrated figure.
Richie finally turned to face 'Adam', glaring his warning that now would not be a good time for idle chit chat. "Just keep on goin'," the blue eyes said, but Methos was nothing if not good at ignoring subtle messages when he chose. He knew Richie was embarrassed at his naiveté and poor judge of character. Perhaps there was something he could say to ease his chagrin. So, rather than going about his business, Methos stopped opposite the object of Richie's wrath, grabbing and holding the hard sandbag after another particularly vicious jab sent it flying towards his head.
"Got a few frustrations to work out, huh?" he offered, to which Richie simply sent him a withering look. Jab. Kick. Grunt. The perspiration continued to bathe the youth's overheated body.
"Don't you have something to do? Where's Mac?" Richie continued to work around Methos.
"He's out. I was just going to Joe's for a beer. Wanna join me?" He'd decided the 'buddy' approach might be a good path.
"No, I just want to be left alone. I don't need any more lectures or words of wisdom, thank you fucking much." Methos was getting impatient with this 'baby immortal' and had about decided to just give it up and let the kid lose his head next time, when Richie spoke again, edge in his voice.
"I suppose you know just as much as MacLeod about what I should and shouldn't be doing with my immortal life, huh Adam...buddy." The tight lines around Richie's mouth and cold glint in his eyes told Methos that he was just angry at the world in general right now and the older man had just happened to be the closest target for the barbs, but his own ego reacted differently.
"Well, when you put it that way *Richie*," he said, emphasizing the childlike name, "it wouldn't hurt you to listen to those who just *might* have a little more experience to back up their warnings." Methos' slightly narrowed eyes should have been a warning to Richie, but the kid didn't know him well enough to take heed and back off.
"Oh like you? I suppose you're one of those great, wise immortals who spouts pearls of wisdom in his spare time, while championing the cause of justice with his shining sword as a way of life?" Oh if he only knew, thought Methos sardonically. Then, a small wicked voice in the back of his head nudged, This kid needs a lesson in respecting his elders...
"Perhaps you'd like to test that theory, young Ryan?" Methos coaxed, shrugging out of his jacket and hefting the ever present sword. Richie looked startled at first, but with the cockiness of youth, grabbed the gauntlet. He knew Adam wouldn't kill him if he was Mac's friend, but he felt confident he could take him on easily, perhaps salvaging a bit of his own pride in the process. Yep, he was ready for a fight and this one looked as good as any.
"Best two out of three?" Methos could see that Richie had no doubts as to who the two would go to and noticed how the young man's chest was heaving with exertion and the excitement of the coming contest. His muscles rippled through his shoulders as he flexed his arms and readied his own saber. A thought came to Methos that was pure and utter mischief and he couldn't recall afterward whatever had possessed him. He just knew it'd seemed a good idea at the time.
"You're on," Richie said through clenched teeth.
"And let's make it interesting shall we?" Methos continued. He'd see soon enough just how big the kid's balls were...figuratively, and if he was correct in his judgment, literally.
Methos saw the wary look cross Richie's face. But like many before him, Adam knew he'd fooled the young man into thinking he wasn't the fighting type. He knew he'd won when he saw the quick nod of blonde hair.
"Well, then. If you win, I'll not only leave you alone, but pass on a few...techniques with a sword that even MacLeod doesn't know." He could tell that appealed to the younger immortal.
"And if you win?" Richie asked suspiciously. He'd never known a bet to be anything other than one-sided, weighted with the person suggesting the wager.
"If I win...well, let's just say you also get to learn a few lessons from me, but more in the world of...the senses. We can stop this now, Richie and we'll talk about what happened between you and Kristin, or continue, I'll knock you on your bum and you'll *have* to listen to me, as well as let me show you that Kristen was just one small part of a world you haven't even dreamed of yet." Would the kid be quick enough to pick up on his insinuations?
Richie halted his advance on Adam and the elder could see he was digesting the challenge, trying to determine exactly what it would mean to him if he lost. Methos saw confusion, then understanding dawn on the smooth face, followed closely by anger. He had his answer. Richie would neither back down nor succumb willingly when he lost. Well, if the kid didn't know how to lose gracefully, he'd soon find out.
"I accept, Adam. But if you think you're going to get your shot at me, think again." And then as an afterthought, "I wonder if Mac knows what kind of 'friend' he has?" This didn't shake his opponent as much as Richie'd anticipated.
"He will soon enough," was the only reply he got before the pair began circling in the center of the open space, gauging each other's weaknesses and strengths. The first few moments were spent thus...parrying, sidestepping...testing. Methos could see MacLeod's tutelage in his student and had to admit that for a baby immortal, the kid had some good moves. But it was clear before the end of the first bout who the superior swordsman was and Richie soon found Methos' blade resting at the vulnerable flesh of his throat far too quickly for his liking.
The second round was Richie's only because Methos wished it. In the end, when he claimed his prize, the older man wanted his opponent physically and emotionally drained. It was all part of the game Methos played with his adversaries.
Round three lasted a good twenty minutes and it was only five millennia of built up endurance which allowed Methos to drag it out so long. And it was only Richie's stamina of youth, surprising Methos somewhat, that kept his opponent going. By the end, Richie's untrained body was strained past endurance and not an inch of cloth covering him was dry. In a move that took him totally by surprise, Richie found himself paralyzed by the sword at the front of his neck, Methos' hand wrapped tightly about his middle, pulling him back and slightly off balance.
Methos felt the hard muscles of Richie's back tense against his chest, which was now rumbling with laughter. Richie had misjudged him...badly. He knew his figure was slight, but underneath lay the wiry steel muscles of a trained fighter. He knew his own level of skill and played it to the maximum.
The blade at Richie's throat didn't budge, but the hand that clasped him firmly began inching its way downward from his stomach, resting in a deceptively light manner at the waist of his sweats. The tip of one finger slide just under the band of material, stopping...waiting for his reaction. Methos' smooth, cultured voice whispered in his ear.
"Are you ready?" Richie did not ask for what. The elder Immortal figured he'd had his experience of lost bets and possibly some small exposure to what he had in mind.
Methos felt the body under his hand tense as the street punk took over in preparation. Just because he'd won this boy fair and square, didn't mean they both couldn't enjoy it, however. Methos hoped that before all was said and done, Richie will have discovered that women like Kristin weren't the alpha and omega of sex. Slowly he lowered the blade, then rested it on the bench where they'd halted. Methos hadn't moved his hand at the hard washboard stomach, and now his other rested on the youth's shoulder, letting his fingers work into the constricted muscles, kneading the slippery skin.
"It doesn't have to be a painful lesson," the hypnotic tone seemed to entrance Richie. Methos wondered briefly if it was because his mind had already shied away from the coming events or if he was actually willing to accept the payment required with an open mind. It didn't matter to him. "If you close your eyes and just feel...don't think. Yes," he urged when the strained tendons relaxed slightly under his hand. "Feel the moment...let it take you way."
Methos knew the methods employed for over a millennia to relax and prepare one for the unexpected and used them liberally as he let his voice caress Richie's mind and then his mouth caress his neck. He tasted the salty brine of sweat and licked his way upward to Richie's ear. A soft sigh escaped the man held before him and it occurred to Methos that perhaps Richie wanted control of the situation taken away. If he wasn't in control, he couldn't be blamed...just as he blamed his own ignorance for Kristin's betrayal. He'd thought he'd been in control then, but discovered the illusion of mastery is worse than just relinquishing it to begin with.
"Let's take this upstairs, shall we? I don't think MacLeod would mind us using his bed for a good cause." Methos' voice was low, yet seductive in Richie's ear and he could feel the youngster's body quivering with anticipation and untapped feelings. Methos let go of his opponent and strolled toward the lift gate. He didn't looked to see if Richie was following.
Once in the lift, Methos turned quickly, splaying his hands on either side of Richie's head, his face mere inches from the blonde's. He looked into the blue eyes which only showed resignation, but no fear. Methos admired that and decided right then and there that this experience would not be an unpleasant one for the young immortal.
"Kristin was only the beginning, Richie," he whispered. "Let me show you that you've only scratched the surface of the world of sensuality." He leaned in then, kissing Richie softly just below the eye, moving slowly downward until he brushed across Richie's dry mouth. The young man licked his lips and found his tongue caught by Methos who sucked it, tugging lightly in a movement meant to excite them both. He felt Richie respond, slowly at first as he gave himself over to the kiss, then returning it with equal ardor. Methos did not question the change in attitude or stop his attentions. The young were always so open to new experiences...especially when hormone enhanced.
The aggressor became a partner. Richie shoved Methos back against the other side of the lift just as it reached the top, stumbling somewhat in the process, but neither made a move to exit the platform. Their hands began exploring each other and Methos felt Richie's hardness against his leg. His visual admiration of earlier manifested itself at the tips of his fingers as they lightly caressed the hair covered chest and stomach under the other man's shirt.
"Don't you think we could find a more comfortable venue for this?" Methos asked with just a hint of humor underlying his words.
He thought at first that Richie hadn't heard him, for the young man continued groping through his shirt...not that he minded much. But eventually Richie pulled away, breathing ragged and eyes unfocused. Yep, he'd left his control downstairs. Methos was in charge and he could tell the kid wanted it that way, so he turned and walked into the loft, wasting no time. Standing at the foot of the bed, he waited for Richie to join him.
"I've never...uh...," Richie looked down and squirmed, obviously trying to adjust his pants without the use of his hands. Methos knew the other man needed to face his desires...and forget about Kristin once and for all. He wouldn't be any good to MacLeod or himself if he let it come between them.
"Richie, come here."
He waited as Richie took several tentative steps toward him until he could reach out and pull him into his arms. He wasn't trying to be a lover, however...just a teacher tonight. Methos pulled them both down to the bed, covering Richie's body with his own. He pulled at the still wet t-shirt until he'd bared the firm, young body. The older man took a moment to drink in the sight of sculptured chest and shoulders, then a pink nipple hidden just beneath the blonde curls caught his attention. He rolled the taut nub between thumb and forefinger, eliciting yet another response to his touch. Methos felt the breath of Richie's sigh, rather than heard it. It was warm and moist, like the body laying beneath him. He lowered his head to continue what his hands had started, freeing them to roam over Richie's neck, shoulders and chest.
"Adam...I want..." Another gasp of pleasure when Methos rose above Richie and began fumbling with the string of his sweats.
"I know what you want." Methos finally got the waist untied and, in one swift move, tugged the pants over muscular buttocks and legs and tossed them on the floor. Richie was now naked, but Methos was still fully clothed. He could tell this situation was making the other man uncomfortable, so he stepped off the edge of the mattress and divested himself of every stitch separating him from the man on the bed. Sliding back into the bed to Richie, now waiting expectantly, his erection jerking slightly at the sight of Methos' nakedness.
Methos lay beside Richie, pulling him over into his arms. He kissed the young man deeply, twining his fingers in the blonde hair, then letting them caress their way down the tight sinew of neck muscles. He felt the pressure of Richie's cock against his stomach and reflexively swung his leg over the other man's hips, trapping their bodies in a tight grip of passion.
He felt rather pleased with himself when Richie began returning his embrace, stroking his smooth back with growing assurance. Methos tried to show the less experienced man that he wanted him to take part equally in their lovemaking by rolling over on his back, pulling Richie with him. Now on top, the blonde seemed to feel more comfortable. This was a position he was familiar with. Methos opened his mouth eagerly to accept Richie's kiss, encouraging him to explore with lips, tongue and teeth. With the shorter man on top now, Methos was able to ease his own cock between Richie's legs, letting the tip tease the younger man's balls as they moved against each other.
Richie grew braver or more excited, Methos wasn't sure which or if it was a combination of both. He let the young man do as he would, and even helped him understand what he'd like. Pushing Richie's head further down when he began licking and nibbling just above the dark frame of hair between his legs, Methos spread his legs in anticipation of the hot, young mouth engulfing him.
Methos knew he'd pulled Richie deeper into a world than the kid had ever come close to, but his own experienced touch and patience had heated the younger man's passions to a fever pitch. He watched through lust-glazed eyes as Richie lost himself in a vortex of erotic desire, swirling deeper and deeper until it didn't matter than the person providing these feelings was a man.
Throwing his head back with a sigh and a heave of his hips, Methos reveled in the feel of fire and water...hot mouth and wet tongue swirled around his aching cock, sucking and drawing forth his essence. Methos didn't want to finish yet, however. He knew it was time to take Richie to another level of pleasure not yet imagined.
"Wait...stop," he gasped. "I don't want to...Let me show you." Methos was able to pull himself back to earth and under control with much effort, but he knew it'd be worth it. Richie looked up confused and Methos was quick to reassure him that he hadn't done anything wrong...on the contrary...
"I want to show you...how it can be." Methos began massaging Richie's stiff cock, now quivering with the urgency for release. The boy wouldn't last much longer. He scraped his nails lightly along the underside, along the circumcision scar, then downward, tracing a pattern across the tightened balls. Richie ground himself against Methos' palm, whimpering in his need.
"What Adam. I need...," he repeated his earlier plea.
"Yes, I know...Richie, I want you to fuck me."
He saw Richie pause, hesitating to follow through, but his body demanded otherwise. He looked around frantically now and Methos guessed at his search.
"Try the night stand." The tube of lubricant was half used and both men took a moment to look at each other, a knowing smirk on Methos' face and surprise on Richie's.
"I guess Amanda keeps him busy," Methos joked. "Here, let me." He took the tube from Richie's trembling hand, replacing it with a liberal amount of the slick substance. Shifting to his side, back to Richie, Methos pulled Richie against him, guiding his hand to the sensitive area between his legs. He felt fingers probing between his cheeks and willed himself to relax. Methos then pushed himself back against the tentative hand, encouraging, wanting...needing.
Methos felt the movement of the bed and knew Richie was preparing himself for the assault. Yes!! Gods, he wanted this boy inside him. "Do it, Richard!" he demanded.
His words must have acted as a catalyst for the young man who was still battling the social stigmas of what he was doing took action. Richie grabbed Methos' hips and guided himself until the tip of his shaft rested at the puckered opening. Another demanding wiggle of Methos' ass against his turgid cock did the trick.
Methos let out a shocked gasp as Richie plunged deeply at the first stroke. Must. Teach. Richie. Art. Of. Finesse. Methos thought before all coherent brain activity ceased and he was riding the waves of pure sensation. What the kid lacked in experience, he certainly made up in enthusiasm. Methos couldn't remember being ridden so thoroughly or passionately in over 1000 years. He could hear Richie's breathing heavily in his ear as he reached for his climax. He felt Richie's fingers dig into his hips, but the pain only made the feelings more intense.
His own hand was busy pumping his cock and Richie must have noticed through the haze of lust, as he felt the other man's hand cover his own, pushing him closer as they moved faster and faster until their hands were covered in the hot fluid pumping from his body. Methos felt the still-warm cum smear across his stomach as Richie dragged his hand back to grip Methos' hip. Methos let himself go with the feelings as Richie drove deeply with each movement, pulling himself almost totally out on the back stroke. Then the young man stopped, drew out one final time and rammed his cock fully inside Methos as he shot his life's fluid into the man before him.
Methos felt the hard body collapse against his back. He turned until they were facing each other once more, raising his hand to push the damp curls off Richie's forehead. He kissed the other man between gasps for breath and smiled at the reaction. Richie seemed to still be riding the last waves of his orgasm and Methos knew the next few moments would effect the kid's outlook on sex for the rest of his immortality.
They lay in silence for awhile. Methos was framing the lines for his departure, for they both knew MacLeod would be home soon. He didn't know what Richie was thinking, but he tried to imagine himself in a similar position.
"It's okay to let go sometimes, isn't it?" Then not waiting for an answer, continued. "You'll find with time, Richie, that immortals don't always live by the same rules as the rest of the world. Our very existence necessitates a separation...from mortals...and our own kind. We learn to take comfort, love...companionship where we find it. Male or female...it doesn't really matter."
He watched the blue eyes as they cleared and became alert at his words. Over the course of 5000 years, Methos had become quite adept at reading faces and eyes. What he saw now reassured him that what he'd said had had some impact on the young Immortal. To what extent and for how long, he didn't know, but at least he managed to work off some of his anger, and possibly learn a thing or two about pleasure along the way.