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.
This is a Smut Grrrls production. Dedicated to the creation, promotion, and limited distribution of Highlander Erotica. We live to / .
Please do not re-post, reprint or otherwise distribute without the express permission of the authors and a fire extinguisher for your keyboard.
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.
They rode back into camp just as the sun was setting over the dunes. The heat transformed the smooth, sandy horizon into a wavy mirage of coral, rose and purple. Methos took a moment to admire the stark beauty of the scene before him, a soft step from behind warned him that he was not alone. After a moment he felt the weight of a hand against his shoulder and he tensed slightly, wondering what mood the unpredictable Kronos would display this evening.
"Quite a sight, eh Brother?" Kronos' voice was low but audible, close to his ear. He relaxed once more and turned his head slightly to look at the man behind him.
"Of all the places we've traveled, I think I've enjoyed our time here the most."
Methos watched the blue eyes across from his soften in a rare moment of introspection. Kronos would never let anyone see his defenses lowered except the man before him. He'd taken a chance trusting Methos in the beginning, but over the span of 1000 years, there was nothing they didn't know about each other. No layer yet unexplored. They were truly brothers...and more. His mind shied away from that subject, unwilling to explore his complicated reaction to those thoughts.
He remembered a similar summer night when their relationship had made that subtle shift, leading to a new level of understanding between the two men. Alike and yet unalike, neither led and neither followed. Methos did not have the blustering and aggressive manner of Kronos. Where Kronos threatened with a shout and the blade of his sword, Methos conveyed a deadly warning with a glance and the set of his shoulders. This was what attracted the barbarian to the softer-spoken immortal who had ridden at his side for centuries. It continued to fascinate him even now, much more than he would willingly admit.
"It's the solstice. Did you know that?" Methos queried softly, his voice a lilt on the gentle breeze caressing his face.
Kronos felt a stirring in his groin and squeezed the lean shoulder. "Yes, I was just thinking of another mid-summer's eve..."
Kronos let his voice trail off into the night as his hand traced a path down the shoulder where it rested, letting his fingers glide lightly across the warm flesh of upper arm. It came to rest once more on the hard surface of Methos' bicep. There was no reaction in the hazel eyes as Methos stepped away to lead his horse to the makeshift corral. It had been a long day and he looked forward to a bath in the oasis over the next dune. The cooling air was not the only cause of the shudder which began at his neck and moved down to knot at the base of his spine.
Kronos remained standing where they'd stopped, watching the retreating figure. Smiling secretly, he followed with the reins of his own horse in hand. The night was young.
Methos walked back to his tent, water dripping from his black hair, forming darker spots on the robe he'd thrown around himself after his dip in the cool water. He saw a lamp burning inside the tent and frowned slightly, alert to the possibility of danger. Cautiously he stepped inside and was greeted by Kronos, lounging across his blankets, goblet in hand.
"Come join me in celebration of the solstice, Brother."
A feast of roasted meat, dates, goat's cheese and bread recently baked by the camp whores lay spread before him on the floor. Methos eyed the scene warily, yet could not suppress a light shiver of excitement...excitement that mirrored the flame in the lamp his brother had lit. He often wondered why he fought the sensations and peculiar feelings of arousal Kronos evoked in him. Each time, he vowed it would be the last. But it never was...and it would happen again, only to have him make the same futile promise afterward.
Methos sank to the ground next to the supper and took a haunch of meat. His teeth ripped the smoky flesh and he closed his eyes in enjoyment. Just as he was about to lick the rich fat that had begun to dribble down his chin, another tongue began a slow ascent from the line of his jaw upward to his lips, now slick with the juices of his meal. He did not open his eyes. Weakening, he let himself be drawn into the vortex of desire which he'd known was inevitable. Why had he ever thought differently. Strong hands pushed him down into the furs. He accepted the weight of Kronos' hard body and returned the kiss with growing ardor.
Methos felt Kronos' tongue invading the warmth of his mouth He tasted of the fermented beer they drank, with an underlying sweetness. He felt his own response and knew it did no good to resist. He felt himself swept away on waves of desire and heard a low moan fill the tent, recognizing it as his own. He squirmed beneath Kronos' hips, pressing upward, seeking friction and pressure. A soft laugh of triumph escaped from the mouth covering his and he shivered again.
There was nothing gentle about this and Methos wanted it that way. He did not want their union to resemble those of his past. He couldn't have taken that. This was no love-sick, calf-eyed partner who would live and die for him. This was his brother, his equal...his obsession. Their movements became frantic as they dragged off the confining cloth that kept them apart. Hands massaged and stroked his neck, chest and abdomen. His leg pushed upward between the thighs which captured him and he felt the iron hardness of Kronos press into his hip. His head fell back as sharp, white teeth bit into his shoulder and strong hands wound themselves into his hair. Methos was held prisoner while Kronos raped his mouth and ground his cock against the prone figure. Fighting through the fog of lust, Methos raked his nails across the smooth back, leaving red furrows in their wake, finally clasping the soft flesh of cheeks, spreading them as he held on for dear life.
"Fuck me!" Methos heard himself croak. "Take me now!" He jerked as Kronos' cock rubbed against his own engorged member. The pain and the pleasure forced a groan of need from his lips.
"Patience, dear brother. We have hours and I would have us remember this solstice night forever." He could hear rather than see the leer which spread across Kronos' face. Methos pictured the feral gleam of a predator in his eyes.
Kronos could not have stopped if wild horses were stampeding through the tent. The lithe, yet muscular man squirming beneath him had always had the power to chase all but the lustiest thoughts from his head. Never had a lover held such control over him, but he would never, could never, let him know that. He often watched Methos as he walked across the camp or rode beside him. The easy grace of movement, the comfortable familiarity with his own body. The man emitted a sultry air of seduction no matter what he was doing and Kronos was not immune to the implied power he sensed leashed just below the surface. But Kronos was a creature of control. He needed it, fought for it and achieved it. Thus, Methos knew not the hold he had over his brother.
Methos felt the fingers in his hair move down to encircle his neck. Kronos' thumbs traced circles just below his ears, while his fingers cradled the dark head. He commanded with his eyes that Methos look at him. Hazel met blue in a brief clash of wills. Methos might not go around exhibiting his dominance over the others, but he would not back down from a challenge once made. Therefore Kronos was not surprised when he found himself on his back, pinned to the ground by those same wiry muscles he'd admired and stroked. Before he could react, a firm hand was placed between his legs, effectively covering the lower half of his cock and the taut skin of his balls. A slight squeeze only made Kronos harder and he grinned wickedly as he pushed himself into the grip. Methos' eyes widened, then he smiled lazily. He scraped his nails across the puckered twin sacs and up the length of the hardest cock he'd ever felt. Kronos sucked in his breath and waited. The power of the men filled the tent with their scent. Two animals, circling for position, vying for dominance. No one would win, but neither would there be any losers tonight. It was a game they played whose mercurial rules changed with their mood or whim.
Methos rolled to the side, propping himself on his elbow and raised his free hand to tweak the nipples of his partner. He rolled one pink tip between his thumb and forefinger, pinching briefly before moving to its twin. He reached over and followed the path of his hand with licks and nibbles. When he'd reached the far nipple, his teeth captured the nub firmly, causing a yelp of surprise from Kronos. Methos tugged roughly, shaking his dark head like a dog playing with his prey. This last finally invoked the moan of need which had been his goal. Years of practice had taught him exactly what Kronos liked.
They played through the game until dawn streaked the sky and their straining cocks were like unto bursting. Neither wanted to be the first to succumb to the weakness of passion, each probing the limits of his partner's control. Finally, Kronos once more lay on top after licking and sucking the other's cock to the brink of orgasm. Again and again he had pulled Methos to the edge, each time denying him the release his body craved. Hundreds of years of immortality had provided a few benefits, endurance not being the best, but certainly one of the handiest. Now Kronos used his endurance to control the body of his lover, demonstrating his ownership beyond all doubt. This was what he craved, the feel of Methos helpless beneath him, begging for fulfillment.
Methos was exhausted from their hours of foreplay. His hair was plastered to his scalp with the sweat of their exertions, as was his partner's. For this time, he was prepared to let Kronos take the lead. His neck and shoulders were covered with the bites and scratches which had yet to heal and his body screamed its need like a roar in his ears. Both of their bodies had long passed the point of desire. The simple act of a locking gaze or Kronos' hand hovering a breadth above his tingling skin caused Methos to catch his breath in a sob of longing. Kronos held his face inches above the man beneath him and watched as the sweat dripped from his nose, splattering across finely sculptured cheekbones, to roll indolently down the long neck. He licked greedily at the salty trails and his arms quivered from exertion and the hunger of his body. Once again he listened to Methos' plea.
"Kronos...brother...take me before I explode. I need to feel you inside of me." Methos waited for the words that would indicate that merciful release was at hand.
"What do you want, brother...tell me." Kronos goaded.
"Your cock...inside me...filling me." Methos would not look away from those steel blue eyes.
"Then you shall have it."
Kronos clasped his ankles, yanking Methos' legs up and laying them across his shoulders. He wanted to look into that beautiful, controlled face. Watch the expressions of aching pleasure and longing. He plunged deeply in one deft stroke. His cock had been resting ready at the entrance of Methos' tight opening...ready to bury itself at his command. Methos cried out in a combination of pain and satisfaction, his eyes wide and glazed with his need. His body rose of its own volition, meeting each thrust.
When his brain could register more than pure sensation he focused on the face of the man above him. Kronos had briefly closed his eyes in concentration, his face a study in control. Now he opened them and Methos was mesmerized by the intensity of their blueness. He saw the instant they changed...the pupils dilated, the lids tightened into a squint of concentration, followed by the slow curve of a smile that made the hot blood roaring in his ears freeze instantly.
Kronos reached across Methos for something, bringing his chest down within range of a hot tongue. Methos quickly lapped at the inviting nipple conveniently place over his mouth, biting down hard just as Kronos moved to straighten.
"You'll pay for that brother," he growled menacingly, the hint of a smile still lurking on his rough features.
He pounded into Methos again while one hand stroked the aching cock that was in dire need of attention. Methos let his head slip back slightly, groaning and panting. Kronos wrapped his fingers around the shaft now, beginning a slow, rhythmic tattoo designed to bring Methos over the edge into oblivion. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a new element entered the picture and Methos tried to comprehend what was happening. His body was beyond recognition of anything but its need for release, yet he managed to open his eyes to a lazy droop just in time to see Kronos descend on him for a rough, wet kiss that took his breath away. Something was applying a barely perceptible pressure around his throat, but he still couldn't discern its cause and how could he think when Kronos' tongue plundered his mouth and demanded his full attention.
Kronos was everywhere. His cock was buried deep within, his hand pumped Methos' cock with practiced constraint and his mouth was sucking the air from his lungs. Why couldn't he breathe? The myriad of sensations threatened to overload his mind and he fought the blackness he felt descending, while straining his hips into Kronos' skillful ministrations. He felt himself reaching toward the pinnacle of the mountain he'd spent the night climbing. Sudden recognition of the strange new element in their game dawned in him, and he gasped for breath, knowing that the twisted cloth over his throat would deny him that. His eyes flew open, and through the hazy blackness that was shot with stars, he saw the grin of triumph and lust on Kronos' face. In a moment in time that was almost like a Quickening, Methos felt the combination of danger/fear/anger/passion that exploded in his mind as his body exploded in his brother's hand. With a look of naked desire and terror, Methos crossed over into nirvana as his seed shot forth across his belly and chest. Kronos followed shortly, pumping his hot cum deep inside his now unconscious partner.
Kronos sighed and collapsed across the still figure, letting his heart slow to a speed of less than one hundred miles an hour. He lay there...feeling the sweat-slick skin of Methos beneath him...the soft, smooth chest...the exposed neck, muscles still corded from their earlier tenseness. He remembered the erotic look of craving and fear on Methos' face and ground his now semi hard cock one last time into the body of his lover before withdrawing and rolling roughly to the side. Now he waited.
Methos awoke with a gasp of air and the jerking body of one in shock. He looked about himself wildly, but saw only Kronos, lazily reclining in a position similar to that in which he'd found him the night before. The sun had risen to fill the tent with light and the smells of the desert. He could hear the morning activity of the camp...the horses snorting for their breakfast, the voices of the captive women as they prepared the morning meal, Silas sharpening his ax.
"Good morning, Brother," Kronos greeted him with a smile and light touch on his arm. "You look quite recovered."
Methos just stared at him, memory flooding over him. He looked down and saw the dried semen spread across his stomach and his body remembered the night before. Full awareness of the events flashed like a bolt of lightning and he sat up quickly, reaching for his sword.
"You won't need that...now," Kronos' voice betrayed no emotion, save humor. But, his eyes followed Methos and his own hand tensed over the hilt of his sword.
"What did you do to me?" Hazel eyes had darkened like the muddy depths of the Nile, unfathomable in their scrutiny of Kronos.
"Did you like it? I thought you might. Just a little something extra to go with the final climax. Come now, don't tell me that wasn't the most intense thing you've ever felt in your 2000 years of life.
Methos regarded him silently. Kronos tried, but couldn't tell what he was thinking. He'd stopped all thought and emotion before it had reached his face. Then the dark head twisted itself first to one side, then the other, as if working the kinks out of his neck. He flexed those solid, yet somewhat slight shoulders that Kronos had so enjoyed biting into last night. Then he ran his free hand over his chest, seductively moving it closer to the nest of dark curls, now spiky with his dried cum.
Kronos visibly relaxed and reached for Methos. Before he could raise his arm fully, however, he found the sharp tip of Methos' sword at his throat, the point pressing firmly into the vulnerable flesh. Kronos froze.
"Don't you ever do that to me again," Methos spoke in a low, menacing voice that Kronos had to concentrate on to hear. The pressure of the blade increased slightly.
"I don't think I like being at the mercy of anyone who cares to take my head while I'm out from a good fucking," Methos continued. "But I can say this." His eyes lightened slightly, returning to their usual combination of green and brown. "That was the most incredible thing I've ever felt."
It took Kronos a few seconds to register his words. By that time, the sword was laying between them and Methos was regarding him with a sardonic look and something else Kronos had never seen before. He decided he'd let Methos finish whatever he had to say before making any more sudden moves.
"Brother Kronos," Methos still spoke low. "I think you'll have to try this yourself sometime, don't you agree?" Kronos still did not speak. "I said, I believe you need to experience that also, correct?" Methos' eyes narrowed, waiting for Kronos to answer.
For the first time in 1000 years, Kronos feared the man before him. He found the feeling strangely erotic and knew his body betrayed him without looking. Methos began a slow, easy smile...one Kronos had seen on his face a thousand times. But there was an added element of danger lurking just below the surface and he knew what his next words would be.
"Whatever you say, Brother."
Methos' smile widened and he rose in one fluid movement and exited the tent. He let the morning sun bathe him in warmth and flexed his shoulders once more. Without looking back he left Kronos still laying in his tent while he strolled across the sand toward the oasis to bathe for the second time in the last 12 hours.