if you only knew the dreams i've had lately
would you tremble like a plucked string
in anticipation of my tender kisses
and the touch of my rough hands on your skin?

if you only knew the dreams i've had lately
would you shudder like an old stuck door
horrified that i could feel this deep desire
for someone I've known as only a friend?

if you only knew the dreams I've had lately
pale in comparison to the way you look now
as if you've been having these dreams too
and you think we'll both wake up feeling empty

Mac slept restlessly, caught in the grip of a fevered dream. His low moans were keeping Methos awake, as much as the older Immortal tried to block out the sound from his position on the couch. For the thousandth time, Methos wondered why the hell he continued to crash on Mac's sofa, knowing he had a perfectly good bed in a rented house on the outskirts of town. The excuse that Methos was in no shape to drive after a few beers was just that... an excuse.

The truth was that Methos was fascinated. It wasn't a new feeling — very little was — but the intensity of it caught him by surprise. Lust was one thing, but fascination... fascination was far more dangerous, for it involved the mind.

Mac drove him crazy with his chivalry, his notions that the world was less gray than it was black and white. Methos had known many others like him... but he couldn't explain what made Mac different. It was something he just felt, and explaining it was like trying to explain describe what taking a Quickening felt like. You had to either simply experience it, or take it on faith that it was as confusing and exciting and painful as it looked like.

What Methos felt for Mac couldn't really be described in words, though there were probably a thousand adjectives he could apply that would come close. The lust was easily analyzed: Mac was an attractive man, tall, dark, broad-shouldered, muscular, unconsciously graceful in his movements, a gentleman to the core, highly intelligent. Women fell all over themselves to be with him, and he seemed to enjoy their attention as well. But Methos had never seen any indication that Mac was interested in men that way... or Methos in particular.

Methos sighed, and tried to tell himself that just because he hadn't seen it, didn't mean that Mac hadn't any interest — or inexperience. He started to roll over, trying to get more comfortable on the couch, and tried to banish the image of Mac, naked, from his brain.

It wasn't working. Duncan's moans were just the right pitch to make Methos think he was in the grip of an unconscious sexual fantasy. It didn't help that he'd seen Mac naked on several occasions, stepping out of the shower or getting dressed, so he had a clear picture of just what Mac looked like.

Methos sighed, knowing the mental image — combined with Duncan's moans — was turning him on. He shifted position again, feeling the stirring in his groin evoked by the powerful suggestion. He firmly told himself to go back to sleep, and shut his mind to the sounds Duncan was making.

The dream was so vivid.

Duncan wasn't sure who it was that was holding him, caressing him, kissing him in a way that made him shiver with anticipation. He ached to hold his faceless lover, but for some reason, his lover refused all but the briefest contact.

He moaned with the aching frustration. He heard his lover chuckle, low and deep, in response. Then his lover pressed him against the bed, and Duncan complied, knowing somehow that he was going to enjoy whatever happened next.

Then he felt the hot press of a mouth around his hard shaft, and he gasped at the shock of sensation. His lover was relentless, licking and sucking him as if his erection was a lollipop. He reached for the bobbing head of his lover, and his hands were slapped away as a result.

Duncan moaned again, trying to convey that he wanted more. His lover responded by taking him deeper, until Duncan's shaft was down his lover's throat. Long fingers stroked his balls, urging the climax that Duncan instinctively knew would be intense. He cried out at the sheer force of it.

And woke instantly, the scream dying on his lips as he realized he'd had a wet dream.

He swore, and hoped he hadn't woken Methos. He wasn't up to explaining anything right now. Disgusted with himself, Duncan tossed aside the ruined sheets and stripped off his dampened briefs. Naked, he walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

But Methos had heard the scream, the muttered curse, and his resolve to ignore his roommate's sexual magnetism gained yet another crack. Almost unconsciously, his hand crept to his crotch as he pictured Duncan in the shower. The water would cascade over those broad shoulders, down his strong back and chest, and drip into places Methos longed to feel, to touch, to... taste.

Methos closed his eyes, and imagined that he was doing exactly that. His hand gripped his cock. Slowly, he stroked it, then increased the pace of his strokes. He imagined pressing Duncan against the shower tiles, the water streaming down the both of them.

All too soon, release came. He was left with a sticky mess that he had to clean up. That necessitated going to the bathroom, or to the kitchen. Duncan was still in the shower, which eliminated the bathroom. With a deep sigh for what could not be, Methos rose, and headed for the kitchen.

Nothing was said over breakfast that could've been construed as being remotely over the line of friendship. It didn't stop either of them from dissecting the mostly silent conversation to pieces. The day went downhill from there. When, in the course of a rather lengthy discourse on modern music, Methos spilled beer on the couch, both of them were convinced that the day couldn't have ended on a worse note.

The couch, of course, was too wet to sleep on, so Methos was forced to share the bed with Duncan, unless he wanted to sleep on the floor.

Methos lay in the bed, trying to sleep. It wasn't working. He was vividly conscious of Duncan laying beside him, inches away from touching. Calling upon centuries of knowledge, Methos shut his eyes, and willed himself to sleep.

Duncan reached over and touched Methos's arm. The slight contact sent tingles shooting through Methos, and he looked up into Duncan's chocolate brown eyes. As if hypnotized, Methos caught hold of Duncan's hair, wishing it was the long length it once had been, and brought Duncan's mouth closer.

Duncan read his intent, and met the kiss halfway. The result sent the pit of Methos's stomach into a wild swirl. The kiss started out light and gentle but quickly escalated into a battle of tongues as each man used both hands to explore the other's body.

With his free hand, Methos used his fingers to pinch and play with a small nipple. He heard Duncan's breath catch, then increase, as Methos moved his hands down the expanse of Duncan's chest. Breaking contact with Duncan's mouth, Methos moved, intending to follow the path of his hands, but Duncan stopped him.

Instead, Duncan pushed him over on his back. Straddling him, Duncan began to lick and taste Methos, until Methos couldn't stand the anticipation anymore. The instant Duncan's hand wrapped around the head of his cock and squeezed lightly, Methos thrust his hips upward, trying to get more friction. The feel of Duncan's hand was soon replaced by his mouth.

Methos moaned. He knew he was only dreaming, but the dream was so real, and he didn't want to open his eyes. The feel of a warm, wet mouth on his cock was too pleasurable, too insistent, and Methos reluctantly opened his eyes. He wanted to see his lover.

What he saw surprised him... but the shock quickly faded to pleasure. He watched as Duncan worked his mouth slowly up and down, being careful not to gag himself. Taking in a little more with each attempt until finally he had taken Methos's entire length. While his mouth was busy, Duncan used one hand to explore until he found what he was looking for. Using some saliva, Duncan moistened the small tight opening, feeling the muscles there relax gradually under his gentle guidance until he was finally able to slip one finger inside.

Methos moaned and tossed his head from side to side as Duncan began to probe his anus. The sensation was almost too much, and Duncan was forced to back off on sucking Methos's cock. He used the opportunity to grab a tube of K-Y from a bedside drawer. The gel was cold, and Methos nearly jumped, but that quickly faded as Duncan prepared him. By the time Duncan added a third finger, Methos was thrusting against Duncan's hand as his fingers probed and brushed against his prostate.

Stroking himself until his cock was covered and ready, Duncan slowly withdrew the hand he had been using to ready the tight passage he was about to enter. As his fingers withdrew, Methos whimpered in protest. Duncan couldn't help but to notice the look of hunger on the other man's face as he moved up to mount him.

Methos's eyes met Duncan's as the other man moved into position. He could see that the same fire that was burning within himself was being reflected back at him in Duncan's eyes. No words were spoken, but none were necessary. There was only this moment.

Pressing the head of his cock against the tight opening, Duncan gradually added more pressure until the tight ring of muscle gave way, allowing him entrance. Once he had the head of his cock inside that tight place he so craved to enter for so long, Duncan held still, allowing Methos's body to adjust to the invasion.

Licking his lips, Methos moaned softly as he tried to work more of Duncan's cock inside. The slight discomfort that was present from being stretched was already fading and turning into something of an itch that was demanding to be scratched.

Resisting the urge to plunge in, Duncan slowly moved forward until he was buried to the hilt inside Methos's ass. The fantasy that had just become a reality was even better than Duncan could have ever imagined.

Thrusting against Duncan as best as he could in this position, Methos cried out in delight as Duncan began to move inside him, his large cock rubbing against that ever so sensitive place deep inside. With each of Methos's thrusts, Duncan tried to match it and then tightened down around Methos's shaft when the other man backed off to start over again.

Panting, Duncan picked up the pace. He wasn't going to last much longer. Wanting to climax with his lover, Duncan took Methos's erection in one hand and pumped it at the same pace he was doing his lover.

Head tossed back and eyes squeezed closed, Methos screamed as he came, his load spraying his own belly and chest.

His own cries echoing Methos's, Duncan gave one last, hard thrust before joining his friend in oblivion.

— Finis —

©5.8.99

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