This was written around 1994. I was fascinated by Peter Gabriel's song, then thought of this story. It is Methos/Joe (my favorite pairing). ENJOY!

One Night After Closing

by Atira Kei

"Don't talk back
Just drive the car
Shut your mouth
I know what you are.
Don't say nothing
Keep your hands on the wheel
Don't turn around
This is for real."
"Digging in the Dirt" - Peter Gabriel

Silence. It could be a blessing or a curse. At the moment, Joe Dawson couldn't decide. Silence was safety from confrontation. Silence encouraged their situation, taking them deeper into the darkness.

Dawson, Senior Watcher, life-time observer, turned as directed, his gloved hand moving with practiced ease over the hand controls on the steering wheel of his car. Beside him, a petite woman sat, her gray eyes darting around the interior of the car, resting on him, his motionless legs, the various devices that allowed Dawson to drive. She was quiet, for the moment, her .22 caliber resting on her lap. But his experience of the last few hours taught him that she was extremely dangerous, prone to act without thinking. Her name was Tia.

Glancing through the rear view mirror, he studied his other unwelcome guest, a young man in his twenties, or so it seemed. He was tall with dark hair and hazel eyes. The woman called him Benny, a name that seemed out of focus to the rugged face and impassive expression. Next to Benny sat his long-time friend sat his friend, Adam Pierson, known to only a few as the immortal Methos, the 5000 year old Immortal. The ancient immortal's face was equally neutral, his gaze fixed the pitch darkness rolling past him just beyond the back passenger window.

Dawson grunted, then compensated, as the road grew bumpy, turning from finely paved to a less traveled surface. It was the way of it, he considered. A remote place where no one would witness what he suspected would take place. No one but himself and the woman who guarded him. And he had the feeling his own life would depend on the outcome.

In the silence, his thoughts began to drift over events earlier in the evening; so much in contrast to what was going on now. Adam had come to town three days ago. Just came. No conflicts, no immortals, no outward problems. Just Adam, and some free time.

Almost ten years ago they'd begun their friendship as drinking buddies. Don had introduced them. Adam Pierson, the perpetual grad student, an up and coming Watcher researcher, presented himself as an intensely focused young man, abrupt to the point of rudeness. Yet, within minutes, Adam transformed, becoming softly cynical with a sense of humor Dawson enjoyed. From that day on they were close friends, agreeing and disagreeing but always respectful. Even the revelation that Adam was immortal, that he was the "oldest" immortal, didn't change their friendship. Dawson understood Adam's need for deception, his need to protect himself. Five thousand years was a long time, and Joe knew that Methos did whatever needed to be done to survive to the present time.

Over the past two days, Adam had been a fixture in his bar. This wasn't unusual. There was a stool he'd once inscribed with Adam's name. But this time Pierson didn't seem interested in just sitting. He asked to help open, and close, and even to tend bar. All the while they spoke, most of personal things having little to do with immortality or Watchers. or even Methos. Just he and Adam, and the present life. At first Dawson was startled, then delighted. Then curious. He hated to ask when Adam would be leaving, returning to France or wherever he decided to go to be out of touch. He had decided long ago that he would accept Adam's time with him on Adam's terms, and enjoy their friendship for all that is was, even if he fantasized of something more.

Tonight, Joe gave an impromptu concert for his patrons. For the first time in decades, he felt an odd contentment. There was a reason to celebrate; though he could not fully understand why. But his inner soul knew it so be the right time to give the best performance he would for the people he knew, and one whom he loved, even if that one would never know.

The atmosphere of the bar sparked, words and music flowed from him. His customers seemed comfortably excited, some dancing as his moods and memories, past and present, merged through his fingers and lips.

At the back table, two men sat drinking beer, watching and smiling. Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson. Good friends. Immortals. MacLeod seemed to be in his counselor mode, holding his head close to Adam's as he spoke. Adam's expression changed quickly from moment to moment, his gold-green eyes always on Dawson. The scrutiny should have made him uncomfortable, but instead it was like a gentle caress, a steady hold. It had become like this between them. In a moment of enlightenment, in the middle of his last song for the evening, Joe found the words for his feelings towards the elder immortal. In the same moment, a gleam appeared in Pierson's eyes, but his expression was blank, and he pressed close to the Highlander, speaking urgently.

At that moment, Dawson wondered if Adam would be leaving, if this acknowledgment of attraction spelled the end of their friendship.

It was nearly three in the morning. The patrons were gone. MacLeod disappeared. Only Adam remained, waiting. Automatically, Pierson began cleaning up as he had every evening since coming to town. Usually they talked about mundane things, but this evening they were mostly silent, creating a gentle tension. As Dawson put up the last glass, Methos came up, smiling as he suggested they stop to get something to eat at an all-night diner; asking if they could "have a talk". Joe agreed, fighting the knots in his stomach, hoping their friendship was not in danger.

Fifteen minutes later, just before they reached the diner, they pulled over for gas. Joe waited while his friend filled the tank. His own doubts played in his mind as Pierson seem to hesitate as if distracted. He's going to go away, his mind teased.

Then Dawson jerked as gunshots erupted from the little convenience store at the center of the station. A woman ran out to a waiting car. Robbery! As Dawson realized what was happening, the car stopped suddenly, a terminal whine emerging from the vehicle as the driver tried to restart it.

Joe made eye contact with Adam, who was already running towards the mini-mart. Dawson reached into his jacket, then cursed. His weapon was locked at his office, a stupid mistake. A man emerged from the car, then the woman. They ran towards his car. Adam immediately changed direction, running towards him, his hand gliding under his long coat.

"Open the fuckin' door!" the woman hissed as she reached Joe first, banging on the window with her gun. "Get out!"

Dawson almost laughed. Hell of a way to die. He started opening the door, positioning his cane, hoping he would be given the chance to step out.

"No wait!" her companion said quickly. "Let him drive! You!" he shouted, raising his gun towards Adam, who instantly skidded to a halt. "Get in the car! Now or watch your friend die!"

Without hesitation, Pierson headed for the front passenger side, his eyes glittering with purpose.

"No!" the man yelled to him. "Tia, you get in the front! You! Get in the back!"

"Why!" the woman whined, protesting. Obviously she expect to be at his side. "Just wack 'em and take the car! That's the plan!"

The man stared at Adam, smiling wide, his teeth gleaming. "Because I feel like partying a little bit, darlin'. I get this one, and you get the other!"

The woman took the words in silence, then laughed with delight. "Gonna have some fireworks, Benny?"

Benny sized up Pierson then nodded slowly. "Could be, baby. Then maybe we can have some fun of our own."

"Benny!" The woman's whine brought Dawson back from his memories. Joe glanced aside. Tia was frowning. A bad sign. "Can we stop? I have to pee! Are we far enough away yet?"

"Shut up, bitch!" Benny warned impatiently. "We'll stop when it feels right!"

Tia sighed in an adolescent fashion, turning her steady gaze on Dawson. Shit, she's bored, he thought with some little fear. "So what's your name, old man?" his kidnapper asked casually.

Movement in the rear view mirror caught Joe's attention. Adam's attention had shifted to watch the girl.

"Hey!" Tia yelled, pushing at Dawson with her gun. "Don't be rude! Talk to me!"

Dawson focused on his driving. Dawn was less than an hour away, giving the far horizon a faint glow. The road was becoming less paved and narrower as he drove them further into the hills. The situation had to be kept calm, so he decided to answer. "Joe."

"Joe what?" the woman prodded, her gun caressing down Dawson's thigh to the bump that began his prosthetics. "Hey, what's this?"

Under the best of circumstances, Dawson didn't discuss his amputation freely. Either people accepted what was obvious or they did not. His first impulse was to give a sarcastic response, but the wisdom of his years cautioned him. "My leg," he replied, then amended. "A false leg."

"False!" Joe forced himself not to flinch as the gun bounced off the metal and plastic beneath his pant leg. "Is everything under there. false?"

Her tone was unmistakable. Joe's skin crawled. He swallowed hard as the hard barrel of her gun touched the crotch of his pants.

"Well, old man?" Tia cooed, pressing the weapon between his legs. "Is it?"

"No," Dawson whispered, trembling slightly.

"No?" Tia murmured, nearly seductive. The gun was withdrawn, quickly replaced by a knowing hand. Dawson grunted, forcing himself to concentrate on his driving. He could resist, and pay the price. But his was not the only life to consider here. Adam was here. And while the immortal couldn't die from a gunshot wound, his friend would be left vulnerable. And Joe was convinced that Benny would like nothing better than to have an immortal at his mercy.

"Are you sure it's not false, old man?" the young woman teased playfully, her finger pressing the fabric of his pants against his flaccid cock. Joe couldn't even forced the response he knew she was seeking. "Come on, Joe," Tia urged, her tone gaining a certain impatient tone. "I'm a pretty girl. Benny tells me I'm pretty. Right Benny?"

"Uh-huh," Benny supported quietly from the back.

"See?" Tia's manipulations gained purpose. "Now what's wrong, Joe? You're not a fag are you?" she giggled.

Oh god. Joe's mouth went dry. He long knew himself to be bi, and didn't give a shit if anyone found out, though he rarely volunteered the information. In that moment, he froze as his brain processed the answer he knew she wanted to hear. His hesitation decided it for his captor.

"You're a fag!" Tia wailed, losing emotional control in an instant. "Benny! I don't want a fag! Let me kill him!" She pressed her gun into Joe's gut. "That's disgusting! I don't want a fag!"

"Don't be stupid, bitch!" Benny barked, silencing her. "He's driving!"

"I don't care!" Tia was hysterical. Joe tightened his grip on the steering wheel, helpless to stop what was happening. "I want him dead! Now!"

Suddenly Adam's presence was at Joe's shoulder. The immortal's hand snaked out, surrounding Tia's wrist in a bone-crushing grip, pulling the gun back. "You heard your master," Pierson told her crisply. "Let him do the driving and keep you hands to yourself!"

Tia screamed in pain. "You son of a bitch!" She moved her fingers, ready to shoot, but Adam's grip was too strong. "Benny!"

"Let her go."

Benny's tone was deep and serious. Out of the corner of his eye, Dawson caught the glint of steel at Pierson's throat, the tip of a sword. Shit! I was right! He is immortal!

The ancient immortal's hands seem to tighten further, causing Tia to cry out. "Tell this child to put her toy away," he began clearly, his tone as dangerous as the American had ever heard it. "And I won't break her arm."

"Don't push, friend," Benny countered. "Or I'll take your head here!"

"Do it!" Adam insisted, apparently unfazed by the threat.

There was a terrible pause. Joe concentrated on the road, realizing there was little more he could do. He would live or die.

"Put your gun away, bitch," Benny relented with a great sigh. "You'll have your fun soon enough."

Joe looked to the side. Tia's eyes sparked with outrage. "God damn muther-fucker!" she spat at Pierson, her face pinched with pain.

"I've been called far worse," Adam responded lightly. "And in more languages than you can imagine."

Tia must have shown some sign of acknowledgment. Dawson heard her moan as her hand was released. Without thinking, Dawson watched as the gun disappeared into the woman's jacket. Thank god. for the moment. No!

In the darkness his hi-beams fixed on the eyes of a buck standing in the middle of the road. "Son of a bitch!" His body reacted before his thoughts. Dawson turned sharply, slamming on the brakes. His universe narrowed into the realm of screeching wheels, jerky motions, and a sudden stop.

"Get out! Everyone get out!"

Joe flinched then groaned. Pain radiated through his shoulders and hips. The aroma of gasoline reached his nose. accident.

"Joe!" Adam's voice was in his ear, his presence was at his side. His gentle hands touched and pressed at Dawson with skill and knowledge. Dawson opened his eyes. Pierson hovered over him, his expression set in deep concentration. Joe's found his own body leaning at an odd angle, the same angle as the car. The windshield was shattered by the front hood, which had been pushed up by the tree they'd hit.

"I'm all right!" he muttered, memory returning. "There was a deer."

"Yes, there was." Adam's hand brushed across Joe's forehead, leaving a cool, comforting sensation. "A nice buck. but you missed him. However, you didn't' miss the trees." Adam continued his exam. "Though I must admit there are more of them."

Dawson knew his friend was trying to lighten the moment, but he couldn't muster the smile. It hurt too much, and Benny--

"Out!" Adam was shoved aside. A gun appeared in Dawson's face. Benny's outrage face appeared behind it. His lip was split and bleeding. "Get out!"

"Let him alone!" Adam growled. "He can't maneuver that quickly, and he's been injured! I'll help him!"

"I can do it!" Show no weakness to the enemy! Joe forced himself to straighten, ignoring the brief burning pain as he reached for the lock on his seat belt. Another hand covered his, pulling him back. "Adam."

"Shut up, and don't fight me!" Pierson hissed in a near whisper. "Let me help you, or this idiot will. and I don't think you want that!"

"You've got thirty second to get him out!" Benny threatened. "Or he dies."

Adam's head turned back to the their captor. "He's a double amputee," he stated flatly. "You're going to show a little patience and wait."

Joe groaned, feeling embarrassed and insulted. He didn't like his condition announced to the rest of the world. Weakness. It made him a burden, and endangered everyone. Adam squeezed his hand, drawing his attention. Dawson frowned as he gazed into the immortal's gold-green eyes, feeling a gap fall between them.

"Trust me, my friend," Adam said, smiling. "I am doing what I need to do to make sure we get out of this alive. And that's the goal. yes?"

Contact with Adam seem to soothe Dawson's discomfort, both physical and mental. Survival. That was the way of Methos' existence. And for the moment, that survival included one lone mortal. Joe nodded, quickly forgiving his friend. Adam's smile brightened, his fingers tightened on Dawson's then released him. His body braced Joe's as the seat belt was unlocked.

"He's immortal!" Joe declared, slowly moving himself, actively ignoring the continued aches and pains. No broken bones, but Dawson knew there would be pulled muscles and bruises popping up everywhere.

Adam's smile turned dangerous. His eyes gleamed as they rolled over Joe's body. "Do you know, I never would have guessed." He lean closer, invading Dawson's space. "I thought the buzz I got was because of you."

Surprised by the near seductive tone, Joe found himself frozen by his friend gaze. An appreciative sound emerged from Adam, his hand caressed Dawson's beard. "Of course," he continued in a deep tone. "The sword at my throat was a dead give away."

This time, Joe managed a faint smile. I love him, he acknowledged to himself, though the words would not leave his lips. Still, Adam seem to know. His posture changed, his expression softened briefly. Then he was urging Joe to move, supporting him as he helped Dawson out, balancing him as Joe wavered over wet, uneven ground.

"Kill him!" Tia screamed as she stood behind Benny, holding her left arm against her side, her expression a mixture of pain and anger. "He did that on purpose! Kill him, Benny!"

"Not yet!" Benny pushed his face into Adam's, his lips already showing no sign of the injury that had been there. "We dance! Now!"

Adams eyes turned violet as he assessed his opponent. "Can't wait."

"Benny." Tia stepped away from her companion, her gun drawn. "I'm gonna do it!" Her weapon was leveled at Dawson's head. "You get your, I get mine! He ain't driving now!"

Joe didn't have time to consider, to react. He heard the shot, but the bullet never reached him. Adam was there. "No!" Dawson caught Pierson as he fell, the immortal's dead weight pulling the Watcher down to the cold, wet ground. "Adam!"

"Bitch!" Outraged, Benny turned, his sword appeared from under his jacket. Before Tia could move, the blade sang smoothly, silently severing her head from her body. Blood sprayed everywhere, but no quickening emerged. Tia's life ended quietly on a layer of leaves and dirt.

Joe closed his eyes, gathering his friend in his arms, seeing the blood flow from the bullet hole in Pierson's forehead, from the exit wound at the base of his skull. "Jesus Christ.. Adam." He bowed his head, feeling the loss of life, the separation, the guilt. He was helpless to protect him from another immortal.

"That damn whore!" Dawson heard heavy footsteps and glanced up. Benny stood over them, his sword held out, covered in blood. "Damn!"

Joe was silent, prepared for the death he knew was coming, for him and Adam. But the immortal only bent to wipe his blade on Tia's jacket before putting his weapon away. He studied the two men, then sighed. "This has been a lot more trouble than it's worth, you know," he remarked casually.

Joe remained quiet and still. Weighed down by Adam's body, his prosthetics rubbed painfully against his stumps. But he allowed none of his discomfort to show on his face.

"That was pretty brave, for a cripple," Benny continued, leaning against a tree. "You thought you'd give your boyfriend a fighting chance?"

"Why don't you just do it?" Dawson demanded. "Take our heads? Or are you a sadist like she was?"

Benny laughed. "No, I'm no sadist." His eyes measured Dawson. "You know what we are?"

Joe nodded.

"Good, saves me the trouble of having to explain that shit." Benny took out a pack of cigarette, tilting the open pack to extract one. "You smoke?" he offered.

"Not since Nam," Joe replied. Unconsciously, he eased Adam into a more comfortable position, then brushed a hand through the short raven hair. In the dim morning light, he could see the head wounds were already closing. Tiny sparks crawled across his pale skin, pausing to dance over Joe's hand, creating an odd but not unpleasant sensation.

"He feels old," Benny commented as he puffed on his cigarette. "Do you know how old he is?"

"No," Joe answered, lying with confidence. No way I'm going to tell him he's about to take the head of the oldest immortal. God Mac! I wish you knew what was going on. how to find us!

"That's okay." Benny shrugged. "I know he's old." He tossed the first butt on the ground, taking another cigarette out of the pack. "I like 'em old. Give me a real rush."

He's addicted to it! Joe understood. Some immortals got themselves really juiced with the challenge and the quickening. "Why don't you just to it now?" he said, wanting to end the whole matter.

"Because I like to fight," Benny responded. "I like the challenge. It makes the end sweeter." He leered at Dawson. "I don't usually go for guys, but since Tia's gone, I'll make sure you have a good time before I kill you."

"Get fucked." Joe shook internally, unwilling to let his fear show on his face. The threads of healing energies flowing through Adam seem to change direction, concentrating on the mortal, caressing him as if seeking to soothe. Deep warmth spread into Dawson's body.

"No, old man," Benny laughed, licking his lips. "That's going to be your pleasure."

Terrorized, Joe could say nothing as his mind took over, imagining his fate at the hands of this man.

Suddenly, like a dam bursting, a powerful force rushed from Adam's body, washing into Dawson, gathering and pulling. Joe had witnessed the rebirth of MacLeod and Richie Ryan, sometimes at close range. But this was different. He felt as if he were becoming part of the process. The shock of invasion forced Joe to draw a deep breath. Fire coursed up his spine. Adam's presence surrounded him, touching his thoughts.

Joe... came a faint whisper in Dawson's mind. Love.

Adam. Confused, Joe tried to withdraw physically but seemed frozen in place by another's will. No.

Shhhh. The fire cooled into a light breeze, an intimate caress. Be with me, love. Please. trust me.

Always... Dawson replied silently, without hesitation. He groaned as brief pain flashed from every cell in his body, leaving behind a kind of emptiness that made him reel. Desperate to regain his balance, Joe reached out. Adam.

Methos, love. I. Am. Methos! Laughter, dark and light, caressed Joe, supporting him, then faded into a gentle sway of crystalline chimes. In Joe's arms, Adam jerked.

"There, he's coming back." Seemingly unaware of what had just happened, Benny simply put out his cigarette, then stepped forward, his toe prodding Adam's body. "Hey! Wake up! We got an appointment."

Pierson remained still. Deeply exhausted, Joe forced himself to remain sitting. He had no idea what had happened, only that something had been taken from him, something the immortal needed. "Adam," he intoned softly, finding it an effort to speak. The immortal's wounds were gone, leaving behind only streaks of blood on Adam's face and Dawson's coat. "God, Adam. Wake up."

Gold-green eyes popped open, focusing on Dawson in an instant. "Love." His hand came up to cup the mortal's cheek. Joe's brows knitted into a frown. Normally, when an immortal woke from death, there was some fatigue, especially if the injury was serious. But Adam was full of life and energy, clearly prepared to fight.

"Hey loverboy! This is my party!" Benny kicked Adam's side. "Time to die."

Adam winced then relaxed, glancing up at the younger immortal. "You are impatient, aren't you?"

"Get up!"

Adam sat up. His eyes immediately found the headless body of Tia. "I see she got on your nerves too." he commented without remorse.

"Shut up!" Benny's tone changed from impatience to anger. "Get up, or I'll kill him now!"

Pierson met Benny's gaze. "Since you're so confident I'm going to lose my head, you're going to give me a few moments with this man."

Benny smiled, friendly again. "Sure." He leaned down, though not too close. "He and I have a date, too." He took out another cigarette. "I have two of these left," he said. "That's all the time you have." He walked a few yards away and leaned against a tree, his lighter sparking in the growing daylight.

Unable to hold back, Dawson moaned. Adam's body had been something he'd held onto to keep his balance. Without it, he began to fall back, to lose consciousness. In a moment, strong hands gripped his shoulders, holding him up. "Adam, what--"

"Hush, love. Later." Pierson's lips brushed Joe's forehead. Dawson shivered, feeling ancient power in the contact. "Everything is going to be all right, Joe. I promise."

"No!" Joe panicked, pushing at his friend. "Get out of here!"

"Calm down! I'm not going anywhere." The immortal face came into view, his expression soft. "I would never leave you behind."

Joe was deeply chilled, his muscles spasming in an effort to gain warmth. Words of protest formed in his mind, but his lips could only quiver.

"Joe, listen to me. I'm going to pull you back to this tree." Strong arms reached under arms, pulling gently. Dawson moaned in protest. The hard surface of a tree trunk supported his back, something warm was wrapped around his body. "I'm sorry, that's all I have."

Through blurred vision, Joe watched as Adam drew back, his long coat gone, his sword in his hand. Adam, don't go!

"Sit quietly, Joe." Pierson stepped back, a secretive smile on his lips. "I'll be right back."

Joe sighed in defeat. He had no strength left to move, to stop what was happening. Adam approached Benny, who casually snuffed out his cigarette and faced him. The sarcastic smile that had graced the younger immortal's lips disappeared. He brought out his sword and cocked his head, indicating they should move further into the woods.

The sound of clashing steel filled the Watcher's ears. The air around him vibrated with growing energy. Adam was smaller, more agile, more in control, dancing like a cat over the ground. But Benny was larger, stronger, with a better reach. Pierson was slashed, then Benny. Then the younger immortal made a fatal move, missing his stroke. Adam countered quickly, his sword thrusting back, cutting through muscles and vertebrae like butter.

Dawson had witnessed countless quickenings during his career. The energy seem to avoid mortal life, but the explosion, the destruction of property it sometime wrought could be dangerous. Adam screamed, falling to his knees with his arms outstretched, his head flung back. Dawson felt the first wave of energy wave of energy move around him, exploding in the upper branches of the tree he leaned against. Then there were more waves, like a thunderstorm, rushing through the ground, erupting. Movement caught his eye. Joe saw his car glow in the twilight. Oh shit. He braced himself, hoping he was far enough away when--

Bright light filled his vision, heat brushed against his face. Explosion deafened him. Then nothing.

"Joe!"

Dawson grunted. He tried to move, but his body was numb.

"Joe, come on! Open your eyes!"

What happened? With effort, Joe blinked. Adam's young face hovered above him, angular features set in a mask. "Adam," he croaked, his throat dry.

"Yes, love. I'm here." The ancient immortal brightened. "Don't talk anymore," he commanded. "You're going to be all right. Duncan's on his way."

On his way.. How? Joe opened his mouth, determined to ask. But Adam's hand rested on his lips.

"I said no talking. I don't have any water for you. Your car is gone. I'm sorry. The only thing left was the cell phone in my coat pocket. And I'm glad I left that with your or it wouldn't have worked either."

Joe managed to nod, his mind filled with a million questions. His skin tingled with returning sensation, making him aware of Methos' legs under him, supporting him, of the immortal's arms cradling his neck and head, of his Adam's long fingers combing through his hair.

"You know, I do want to have that talk, Joe," Adam said softly, his voice soothing. "But this is a terrible way to break the ice between us."

Talk. Joe had forgotten. Waves of comfort flowed through him from the man who held him. It's like we're connected somehow. He opened his mouth again, determined to speak. Again his mouth was firmly covered.

"We're not going to have that discussion now, love." Adam lightly explored Joe's face and neck with gentle touches. "Neither of us are in any condition for it. But I want you to understand something, my friend. This morning, you saved both our lives."

A jumble of emotions swept through Dawson, finding expression in tears that blurred his vision. I didn't do anything! If I hadn't been here, you wouldn't have been in danger! Joe groaned, the rush of adrenaline was too much for him. Against his will, his eyelids slid down, his body began fall in a numb existence in spite of his attempts to stay alert.

"Go to sleep, Joe," Adam encouraged, rocking him slightly. "You're safe. It's only shock. You'll be all right. And you'll be home soon." Softly lips touched his own. "Rest, love."

"Methos, don't beat yourself up. Joe's safe."

"But I didn't mean to hurt him, MacLeod! I couldn't stop what was happening! It was like a survival reflex. I needed him! I almost killed him!"

"I don't think that's possible. Joe needed you, too. Maybe it was something mutual." Pause. "Dawson seems to have some talents of his own, good instincts. And he's got the constitution of a bull elephant. He'll be all right."

"It's happened to me once before, and I've heard of it happening to other old immortals." A deep sigh followed the oddly accented words. "I've never heard of the mortal dying. But I hurt him! He's in shock! That didn't happen with Hera and I--"

"Methos, he's all right."

"How do you know I didn't do permanent damage!"

"Because I know you couldn't let it happen! And I've called Ansel Herzog. He'll look Joe over. We'll take care of him."

"Ansel? I'm impressed. You know him?"

"We met during World War I. He's been out of the Game for over a century. Another student of Darius."

"I've read his file. He's living around here... has a wife and four children."

"Sometimes I envy that, Methos. I love children. Tessa--- Tessa wanted to adopt. We almost did. But then I got back in the Game..."

"You still need to learn balance, my young friend. You can do both, but only if you believe you can."

"Aye... maybe."

Joe heard voices. His mind followed the words as his body gathered strength. Finally, he managed to sigh. His awareness expanded immediately. Bright light, countered by shadows, flashed through his closed eyelids. He felt secure and protected, his head pillowed on a warm lap. A hand rested on his head, another clasped his right hand. "Adam."

"I'm here, Joe." Adam's hand on his convulsed briefly, then stilled. "We're on our way back to Seacouver. Duncan, hand back that water bottle."

Joe opened his eyes. Daylight filtered through the passenger windows of the car, treetops streamed by, providing a break in the sunlight. He was laid out in the back seat of MacLeod's thunderbird, the convertible top closed above him. A water bottle passed over his head into Adam's hand. Dawson's mouth worked with the dryness in anticipation.

"Listen Joe," Adam began his hand shifting to angle Dawson's head. "Can you sip through a straw?"

Joe nodded.

"Good. Here." The plastic straw was carefully positioned between his lips. "Drink slowly."

Joe made an attempt to obey, but immediately found it impossible. After the first swallow, his body demanded more. He drained half the bottle in short order, then stopped as his stomach protested. "Thanks," he murmured, his throat still irritated. Intense fatigue still held him, nearly paralyzing him.

"You'll be all right." Adam put the bottle aside, then repositioned Joe, taking his hand once more. "We're going to MacLeod's loft, and he's called a doctor to look you over. If you need to go to hospital, you'll go."

There was no room for protest, so Joe didn't try. He simply enjoyed the comfort of the moment, relaxing as Adam's presence seem to seep into him through his touch, soothing some of the trauma. In moment, he fell back into dreamless slumber.

Next he knew, he awoke in MacLeod's loft, in the Highlander's bed. He'd been cleaned and dressed in a long robe, something he'd seen Duncan wear. Adam sat cross-legged on the bed beside him, holding his hand, his expression attentive. A doctor was examining him, assessing the damage. It was not Ann Lindsey, as he expected, but a young man who seemed to have more experience than was possible. Their eyes met. Joe saw a glint in the physician's eyes, a shine he'd begun to recognize as that of immortality.

The doctor's touch was careful, and thorough. There were minor friction burns to his stumps, bruises, some exposure and dehydration. Still weak, Joe merely listened. In the background, Duncan hovered, concern etched deeply into his face. The doctor asked him several questions, gauging his responses, assuring his patient that, with a few days rest, Joe would be fully recovered. There was a shot of anti-biotic. The doctor, who was introduced as Ansel Herzog, took MacLeod aside, smiling, shaking hands, then he was gone.

Then Adam and MacLeod spoke to him, telling him they had to go back to the hills, to clean up the mess in the hills before hikers discovered the site and got the police and newspapers involved. Richie would be coming to look after him, and guard against any "friends" Benny might have had. Joe took all of it in, acknowledging with a weak nodded. As he fell asleep once more, he imagined and expression of guilt on Adam's face, a look of confirmation on MacLeod's.

"Mac called, " Richie Ryan announced. "He said he and Adam could be back anytime."

Joe Dawson nodded. Butterflies wandered through his stomach, though if it was in anxiety or anticipation, he couldn't tell. Richie busied himself in the kitchenette. Pizza was on its way. The Watcher decided to wear his denim shorts, his prosthetics off to one side, allowing his irritated and bruised skin to breathe. It was a rare event for him, particularly in front of others. But at this point Richie, Duncan, and Adam were family, or as close to it as he was ever likely to get.

"Does this mean you're free to go?" he quipped lightly as he accepted a bottle of beer from his host.

Richie smiled, throwing himself into a chair next to the couch. "I'm waiting for the pizza," he said, but the relief in his voice was obvious.

"I hope I wasn't too much trouble," Joe said, feeling a moment of guilt. He'd been MacLeod's loft three days, advised not to leave by Richie who was bound to protect him and help enforce the doctor's orders. But he wanted to leave, to go to the bar, catch up on paperwork. Richie held his ground. For an entire day, Dawson let his feelings be known, making life hell for the younger man.

Yet then, as now, Richie shrugged dismissively. "You weren't any trouble." He lean back and drank his beer. "After what you've been through, you have a right to be a bad-ass. Anyway, I know how you feel. It used to drive me crazy everytime Mac made me 'stay behind'. Still does." Richie smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Joe returned the smile, moving passed their minor conflict. "Actually, except for some irritation from scrapes and bruises, I'm fine."

Richie opened his mouth to speak, then jerked his head up. A second later, Joe heard the elevator to into motion. For a moment, Ryan stood near the gated entrance, his sword in hand, his expression guarded. But as the small freight elevator began to come into view, he sighed in relief. "They're here!"

Mac and Adam. Dawson studied the two immortals as they emerged. They looked as if they had been in deep conversation. Not a disagreement, but something serious. MacLeod carried a pizza box which he handed off to Richie.

"We met the delivery guy downstairs." Duncan stood expectantly making no move to take off his jacket as Adam shed his.

"Is everything all right?" Joe asked, his eyes immediately focusing on Pierson, who gaze caught his at the same moment.

"We took care of everything," MacLeod assured, then frowned. "Your car's gone, Joe. We had to scrap it. But I'll take care of replacing it." His brown eyes glinted playfully at the mortal. "I'll get you anything you want when you're ready."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, uncomfortable with the idea of having a car bought for him. But Duncan merely shook his head in warning. It was a done deal. And after a moment's consideration, Dawson actually found himself becoming excited by the prospect.

"How are you feeling, Joe?" Adam's quiet voice tapped Dawson as the ancient immortal sat beside him.

"I'm all right." The ancient immortal's presence filled Dawson's soul, causing his heart to race. He felt a change in the room's temperature and atmosphere. Trying to remain causal, Joe gave Adam a smile then reaching for the pizza box Richie had set down on the coffee table. "Want some pizza? Richie and I thought we were going to be alone, but there should be enough to go around."

"Uh. no." The Highlander looked to Richie who was about to take the first piece from the carton. "Hey Rich, how about you and I go out to dinner?"

Ryan bit into the slice he held, his blue eyes shifting to MacLeod. "But the pizza."

Duncan's lips moved up. "Come on. I've been promising you a dinner for all the work you've done. Let's go."

Richie frowned, as did Joe. Then Dawson jerked in surprise as his hand was taken in a warm clasp. His eyes returned to Adam, questioning, then understanding. That talk they had barely begun four days ago would happen now, along with whatever might come. Conflicting emotions settled into Joe's mind, causing him to tremble. Oh God.

"Richie, let's go." MacLeod's forceful tone brought Joe's head up. Richie's eyes were wide with shock as he observed the intimacy of Adam's hand on Joe. Duncan sighed and grabbed the young man's arm, taking the pizza slice out of his hand and throwing it back into the box. His dark eyes found Joe, giving him a friendly wink and a smile.

"Mac, what--" Richie's protest came to a sudden halt as the Highlander nearly tossed him into the elevator. Silence reigned as the doors slid closed.

Joe swallowed hard. He and Adam were alone. Adam's hand tightened on his. Dawson faced his friend, feeling as if no time had passed since that night at the bar; feeling as if an entire lifetime lay between them.

"You know," Adam began, breaking the awkward silence by turning Joe's hand over, separating the fingers. "I've always admired the hands of a musician." Joe gasped as an index finger glided down his palm, sending tiny electrical shocks through him. "I wonder what those hands would do if they played... another instrument."

The words were an invitation, part of a seduction. Sexual excitement washed through Dawson. "Adam..." With his free hand, he caressed the immortal's smooth cheek, undecided as to where he wanted the touch to lead. "We need to talk," he reminded.

"Yes," Adam agreed, then bestowed a light kiss on the hand he held. "I love you, Joe."

"I do... too." The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. It was useless to deny it, even if he was going to have to convince Adam of the folly of it all. But before that, he needed to focus on one of the

dozens of questions he had. "Adam, what happened... up there, when you were coming back?" Joe found himself at a loss to describe what he remembered, what he felt. "I mean... Maybe I was imagining..."

"No." Adam said regretfully. "You weren't imagining anything."

"Then what" Joe stopped as a gentle warmth glided from his hand to his arm, his shoulders then his entire body. Joe tried to pull back, remembering what happened the last time, the moment of tearing and the terminal exhaustion that followed. The immortal held on firmly, his green-hazel eyes glittering. "Relax, love," he assured. "This time it's all right. Please trust me."

Trust. Dawson closed his eyes, shivering. Adam's energy flowed through him, caressing like fingers. Joe groaned with pleasure.

"Yes," Adam's tone was husky. "I hoped it would be like this."

Joe felt the brush of lips on his. Instinctively, he returned the invitation, falling into a passionate kiss. He heard a moan from Adam, felt sure hands grip his arms, pulling him close. Dawson lost himself in the intense moment, his mind and body expressing a need he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. Adam...

Love.

Joe gasped, hearing the word in his mind, feeling pure emotions projected from Adam's presence. The intimate moment came to a crashing halt. Dawson pushed Adam away, his eyes wide with surprise, and some fear. "Don't!"

"Joe," Pierson stopped the mortal's withdrawal. His eyes narrowed as they studied Dawson. "You're afraid of me," he said, clearly stunned.

Dawson swallowed. He couldn't deny it, but at the same time, he couldn't lie. "I don't know what's going on, Adam. I don't know what I'm feeling. This is all too strange for me. I need to understand."

Joe shifted to face his friend, his would-be lover. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Pierson admitted honestly, folding his hands onto his lap. "I've had this happen before, with another mortal, almost two thousand years ago." His eyes leveled on Dawson. "Her name was Hera, and she supervised a section of the library in Alexandria. Quite a career for a women in that time. I loved her, and her child.... my daughter." Methos drew a deep breath. "There was something between us, a rapport like you and I have. After years it was like we could read each other's thoughts. In a sense we did."

Joe heard the sadness in the immortal's voice and touched his arm. "It's hard when we die, isn't it?"

Adam covered the mortal's hand. "It's hard when anyone in my life has died, mortal or immortal. But yes, it's harder when the lives lost are mortal. With Hera... it was terrible. I lost her and Livia all in one day, and long before they had a chance to grow old."

"How?" Dawson asked, hoping he would get an answer.

The ancient immortal was silent a long time, his eyes fixed on the coffee table, his expression blank. It was a look Joe recognized in immortals, when they remembered something in the distant past. "She and my daughter were killed by Christians who destroyed the library. She was... flayed alive in public. Livia was crushed." A single tear crawled down Methos' face. "I was away... trading in Jerusalam. I felt all of it, Joe. I heard her screams, felt her pain. Then they were gone."

"Methos, don't." Dawson drew his arms around the smaller man, pulling him into an embrace. The immortal relaxed in his arms, expressing his need to be held. Joe tightened his hold, running his fingers through Adam's hair, seeking to comfort even as he admired the silky feeling of the dark strands. "I don't know what I can say to help," he whispered, feeling inadequate. "Only that I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Adam raised his head, a smile tugging on his lips. "I remember them, and all the memories that were good. Hera changed me in more ways than I can explain to you tonight. Her child... my child... changed me forever." His hand cupped Dawson's cheek. "You've changed me, Joe, and I'll miss you when you are gone. But I'll also remember what we were together, all of your gifts and talents… all of the love we've shared."

Joe shook his head, withdrawing from the immortal, fighting the feelings rising within him. "Why?"

"Why what?" Adam cocked his head. "Tell me."

Dawson sighed, wondering if they could remain friends after this conversation. "Why me?"

Adam rolled his eyes, then leaned closer to the mortal, laying his hands on the cloth covering the mortal's chest. "Because I love you! Because you excite me, arouse me. You're one of the strongest men I've ever met! I need that in my partners... strength, intelligence, passion..."

Dawson laughed out loud. "I'm a forty-eight year old has been with no legs, Adam. I've never been married. I've never even had a relationship that's lasted more than a few months!" Words poured from him, all his

frustrations and fears he'd lockedup inside himself for months exploded without warning. He pulled away from the immortal, sliding away from Adam, wishing he'd kept his prosthetics on so he could get up and walk away. "I can't be what you need, Adam! I don't know about this connection between us, but I think it's making you see something that's not there! I don't want you to discover your mistake and be with me out of obligation! I dont want to rob you of someone who would a better for you"

"Stop!" Before Dawson could protest, the ancient immortal gripped his shoulders, then moved over to straddle him, carefully spreading his weight across Joe's lap, pressing against the mortal. "There is no one better, not in this lifetime, Joe! I've been attracted to you since we first met. The only thing that kept me from bringing you into my life was Horton! It would have been dangerous for you if he'd ever discovered who I was." The immortal smiled gently. "But now there's no danger from him, and I want you just as you are. The only thing that will keep me away is if you say you don't want me..."

"No!" Joe felt hot tears roll down his face, into his beard. The thought of Adam leaving him... "I want—" His breaths quickened into sobs even as his body became more sensitized, more aroused. Part of him wanted to push the immortal away, part of him wanted to kiss him, to make love to him. The conflict was beginning to tear him apart. "I'm no good for you! Can't you see that!" he yelled.

All I see is the man I love.

"God, Adam, please don't do that!" Unconsciously, Joe hands wandered over Pierson's hips, learning the shape of the compact muscles, the firm buttocks. Arousal continued to build within him, forcing him to shift uncomfortably beneath Adam's weight as his cock stirred. "You could have anyone you want. Even MacLeod!"

"MacLeod is wonderful in bed," Methos admitted without hesitation, surprising Dawson. "Actually, he's frightening. Another thousand years and no one will want to take his head, at least not the one that counts."

Dawson studied Adam, working with this new knowledge. "You've been with Mac?"

"Once." Methos shrugged. "I wanted him to take my head, when Kalas came for me. But MacLeod decided to take the other... head." He pursed his lips, his eyes caught Dawson's. "Are you jealous?"

Joe considered a moment, finally relieved this man was considering the options. "No... I know it's different with you guys. I mean, if you want to be with Mac, I won't stop you."

"That's not what I was trying to say, love." Adam pulled up, taking weight off Joe's thighs. "I want to be with you. MacLeod and I are friends, good friends. He helped me past a serious crisis m my life." His fingers slid over Joe's neck, lightly caressing. "But that's not what I want from you," he continued in a low voice. "You don't understand what happened the other night, do you?" Adam kissed Dawson. "You saved my life! You saved both our lives!"

"I didn't do anything!" Dawson protested. "You-"

Adam sighed. "Let me explain something to you, Joe. You may think that it's only immortals who have quickening. But that's not true. All of life has quickening. You. Me. Animals. Trees. But immortals are like batteries. We have the ability to give and receive this energy. After centuries some of us have the ability to control this. When I was coming back, I could feel your terror, your need to protect me. I felt the same, but I was too weak to win a fight with Bennie. Then... it was like a sudden connection. I needed your quickening to help the both of us." He smiled. "And you gave it to me."

"It didn't seem I had much of a choice," Dawson commented, awed by what he was learning. "I heard you."

"I know. And I asked for your trust." The immortal's fingers began a slow caress of the mortal's shoulders. "If you hadn't given it, none of this would have worked. That was your decision, my friend. You could have refused."

"No, I couldn't." In spite of himself, Dawson was becoming deeply aroused. "I couldn't lose you."

"Nor I you, love." Adam pressed against Joe, making his own arousal evident. "Nor I you."

Dawson couldn't hold back. He pulled the immortal to him, kissing him deeply, passionately. Adam groaned, wriggling himself against the mortal in shameless need. Joe shivered as his own hips thrust against the man he held.

"I want to make love to you," Adam whispered, pulling back, his eyes glittering brightly. "I want you to make love to me. Tonight... and for as long as you'll have me, or we have each other."

Shocked, Joe's mouth fell open. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Yes," Adam answered quickly. "It can be done, you know."

I can't believe this! Hesitantly, Dawson touched Adam, his fingers brushing over the sweater the other man wore. "What? No ring?" he quipped, trying to joke his way through his own doubts and fears, wondering when this fantasy would end.

Adam Pierson chuckled, then lifted himself off of Dawson to stand in front of him. His hand reached into the pocket of his jeans. "Actually, Duncan's been doing something for me for the past month or so." He

pulled out a small box, then knelt before the mortal. "I don't really have any intelligent words that go with it, except those old tired clich�s."

Joe was speechless as the box was opened. Sapphire gleamed from the center of the gold signet ring. The precious jewel, cut in an oval shape, was highlighted by diamond chips. The ring was thick, masculine, and old. Very old. Dawson swallowed, completely stunned.

"You hate it," Adam declared after long silence.

"No." His trembling hands touched the ring. This is mine? The gold was smooth and cool, but the jewel sparked with warmth. I don't deserve this. His vision blurred with emotion. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. MacLeod tells me it's about 500 years old. It belonged to a Duke in King Ferdinand's court. The family was offering it in an estate sale." He took the ring from the box, then took Dawson's hand. "May I?"

Joe studied the immortal as he picked up the multiple layers in that question. Part of him wanted to laugh hysterically, part of him wanted to cry. He stared into the immortal's bright green-hazel eyes, seeing only love in them. "Methos," he whispered, using the immortal's true name. "Yes," he answered finally, taking the step that would change his life. "Yes."

Adam's face glowed, his face shone as he grinned. Pulling Dawson's hand towards him, Pierson took a moment to gauge the size of the Watcher's fingers, then slipped the ring onto Joe's middle finger. "There... a good fit. MacLeod and I were worried."

Joe felt the weight of the gold on his hand, watched the sparkle of the precious stone. "I don't know what to say," he began awkwardly.

"Say you'll let me make love to you," Adam murmured, bringing the mortal's hand to his mouth, kissing then licking Joe's palm. "I want you."

Dawson shivered. "I want you, too. I---" His words were halted as Adam's mouth took his in a deep, needful kiss. In a moment, his own lips pressed against Adam's, seeking more, opening his mouth, his tongue meeting and dancing with Pierson's, the immortal's taste arousing him.

When they broke for air, Joe found Adam straddling him once more. Pierson was in the process of pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a lean, compact torso. Pleasure coursed through Dawson, and desire. He

reached out, his fingertips brushing the smooth, pale skin, feeling the warmth, his eyes catching the glitter of the ring now on his hand. "I don't know what to do," he said, uncertain of the next step.

Pierson seem to consider, his own eyes raked up and down Dawson's face and body. "How long has it been?" he asked suddenly.

How long? Joe shifted uncomfortably.

"How long since someone has pleasured you?" Adam asked again.

"I--- awhile," Joe whispered looking away, his eyes stinging as he remembered. "It was Loren.."

"I'm sorry." Adam said gently.

Dawson sighed, then shrugged, regaming control. "She was a special lady, Adam. I was going to ask her to marry me the night she was killed. " He shook, reliving the moment when he watched her being murdered as stood by, unable to help. "I couldn't do anything to save her, Adam. Why do you think it'll be any better with you?"

"You did everything you could then, my friend," Pierson soothed. "And you have already saved me, in more ways than what you did for me the other night."

"In what way?" Joe asked, surprised. "I mean, we've know each other for years, but--"

"You know, Don was the first person I'd told my real identity to in nearly two hundred years. He was a good man, Joe." He smiled sadly. "But you were different. You were the first mortal in many centuries I wanted to share everything with, including my identity. Even when I found out you were Horton's brother-in-law, I wanted you. I never believed you were like him."

"I almost was," Joe countered with regret. "I didn't want to kill like he did, but I felt that all immortals were... different... not human." A wave of shame crept into Dawson's soul. "I'm not proud of helping him, even if

it was just an exchange of information."

"What changed you?" Adam asked patiently.

Joe snorted. "Who else? MacLeod."

A secret smile crossed the ancient's lips. "He has that effect on people. He's far too honorable." Adam straddled Joe once more, his hips rocking against Dawson in a seductive cadence. "You're like a great teddy bear!"

Joe laughed, then moaned as Pierson's shifting weight further stimulated his aroused cock. "Yeah, a teddy bear. One's that's had the ear's torn off, patches everywhere, and one eye missing."

Adam's hand touched Joe's ear, caressing with purpose. "Ah, but that teddy's usually one that's been loved the best. Yes?"

Lips touched, then pressed. Dawson closed his eyes, allowing the presence of his friend - his lover - to move through him. All his doubts fled, his body relaxed. He hugged the immortal to him, wondering if this dream would end and he'd suddenly wake up, more lonely than he could imagine.

No, love. I'm here. This is real.

Waves of love and need washed into Joe, causing a deep groan to escape him. His hand smoothed over Adam's nude torso, petting the warm skin. "This is going to take some time to get used to, Adam."

Methos, love. The ancient one smiled. "I want to be the real Methos... with you."

Joe licked his lips, tasting another's presence there, feeling another's presence pressed against him, physically and mentally. "Methos," he acknowledged without hesitation.

Methos kissed Dawson, then withdrew, flowing down into a kneeling position in front of Joe. "This is not a good place to do what I want to do to you, Joe." He reached for a cotton sock draped over one of the prosthetics. "Come to bed with me?" he asked.

An odd mixture of sensation flowed through the mortal, arousal merging with acceptance. Joe gazed into Methos' eyes, no longer afraid, only anticipatory. "Let's go to bed," he replied in a husky tone.

Methos said nothing, but his joy filtered into the bond between them as the immortal returned his attention to his task, pulling the cotton sheath onto Dawson's stump. "I can do that," Joe said, reaching for the other sock.

"No," came the quiet yet commanding reply. "I will do this. And you will relax. I am making love to you tonight."

The socks were put on, then the prosthetics, as expertly as Dawson would have done himself. Then Methos stood, holding out his hand. "Come on."

Joe smiled, taking the ancient's hand, surprised by the strength as he was hauled to his feet and held steady. "Give me my cane," he requested.

Methos shook his head. "I want to be your cane, Joe. Lean on me."

Dawson sighed, cautiously leaning his weight on his friend, then with more confidence as Methos easily supported him, his smaller body pressing against his side, his arm around Joe's waist. However, as they approached MacLeod's bed, the Watcher hesitated. "Uh... Mac and Richie have gone to dinner. They'll be coming back..."

"No," Methos assured. "MacLeod will be at Richie's place tonight, but he'll be back to make breakfast in the morning... late morning." His hands gripped Joe's shoulders. "You are so beautiful," the immortal murmured then kissed Dawson.

Joe shivered, opening himself, running his hands over Methos' nude back and shoulders. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, voicing a moment of doubt. "I've been with a man... once, a long time ago."

"Then I'll have to teach you," Methos returned, nuzzling Dawson's neck. "All I need is your desire."

The ancient immortal's moves were slow, full of purpose. Dawson's clothes and prosthetics were removed, then Methos finished disrobing and climbed into bed to join the mortal. Joe's mouth was thoroughly explored, his body caressed and stimulated by delicate hands. Methos' tongue glided over Joe's skin, working downward. Captured in waves of need and passion, Dawson attempted to return what he was being given, but Methos' presence touched his thoughts with laughter. No, love. I make love to you... your pleasure is mine....

Joe hissed as the ancient's hand and tongue played him, building the energies between them. He was aware of Methos straddling him. He opened his eyes, wondering when he'd closed them. The ancient immortal had raised himself up, his hand reaching behind to stroke and pump Joe's cock. "You have the most incredible blue eyes," he said with a smile, his gaze locked on Dawson's face. "I've wanted this for a very long time, love. To feel you inside me...."

Joe opened his mouth to protest. I don't want this to be Just for me... "Adam..."

Hush, love. This is for the both of us.

Methos pushed back, guiding Dawson's stiff organ into himself, groaning aloud as he was penetrated.

"Ahhh!" Joe moaned as smooth heat surrounded his sex. He gripped Methos' hips, his body acting independently of thought as he began to thrust. Above him Methos threw his head back, obviously enjoying

the sensations, his own body countering Dawson's movements, shifting slightly to change the angle of entry. Suddenly, a word Dawson had never heard in his life escaped Methos, intense pleasure rippled in the bond between them. Joe quickly lost himself to the rhythm, moving in and out of the immortal as each man groaned and panted. As pleasure bordered on pain, Dawson's attention was drawn to his lover's face. In awe, he watched as tendrils of light sparked from Methos, spinning outward. Quickening, Joe realized, feeling the energy caress him in a way mere touch could not. Dawson's moans became cries. His powerful back muscles supported him as his thrusts grew deeper and stronger, lifting his lover. Methos' answered with words shouted in languages Joe had never heard.

Crystal chimes shimmered in Joe's mind, mixed with laughter. Mists of energy enfolded both men, sparkling through Dawson's nerves in strong surges of intense sensation. It was almost more than Joe could endure. He froze, pumping his seed into his lover, feeling all conscious thought leave him as the universe exploded between them.

Love.

Joe blinked. As orgasm ebbed, his body relaxed. It was a dream. He gazed up. Methos still sat on top of him, hazel eyes trapping the mortal in a question. "Methos?"

"Joseph." Methos smiled, then lean forward, kissing the mortal slowly, his tongue taking time to taste.

"Are you all right?"

"I---" Joe took a deep breath, then another. His body tingled with intense satisfaction, with a glow he hadn't known since he was a teenager. "My god..."

"No... haven't achieve that status yet," Methos said, his lips teasing Dawson's once more. "That was wonderful, love."

Dawson said nothing, overwhelmed by the experience. He bugged Methos against him, caressing the immortal's back. My life has changed forever, but I wonder if-- He pushed Methos up, his hand going to his lover's cock, relieved to feel the post-orgasmic twitching, the tell-tale moisture of release. I wonder if it'll always be this way. Joe felt some doubt creep into his joy. If I'll always satisfy him....

"You will always satisfy me, love," Methos whispered, bringing Joe's hand to his lips. "Please believe me." He brushed salt and pepper hair back from Dawson's forehead, lingering on the beard. "Come on, love" he urged, kissing him one more time before pulling off. "We've both had a long day, Joe. Let's rest awhile."

Dawson stared at him. Incredible warmth flowed from Methos, unconditional love. Joe touched Methos' face, letting his hand wander down the narrow frame, taking his time with his caresses. "I know I've already said this," he began quietly. "But I do love you."

Methos lips moved into his trademark smile, his eyes glinted with soft emotions. "Come and lay beside me."

Dawson grunted, then turned on his side, feeling Methos press against him from behind. His thoughts began to scatter. Later... I'll turn the tables on him, he promised himself. As sleep took him, he heard Methos chuckle, then felt a wave of anticipation.

I'll be waiting, love....

THE END

Back to JoeStories Archive
Report concerns/comments to Archivist

Home | About Raine | Contact

This is a fan site, and all work here is produced without the intention of profit; all characters not my own are the copyright of their respective holders.