The Tease Series:

The Shower
by
Sapphire
August 1999









Mac hopped out of the bed. Heading for the bathroom, he tossed over his shoulder, "I get the shower first."

Staring at the retreating Scot from a tangle of bedclothes, Methos frowned. "You better save some hot water for me," he warned.

"We could always share a shower, you know," Mac shot back as he disappeared out the door, having no idea how well his flippant remark had been received.

Smirking, Methos stretched luxuriously as he contemplated the idea that had popped into his head at Mac's carefree and unintentional challenge. Share a shower? With MacLeod? What a lovely idea. The oldest immortal slowly untangled himself from the bedsheets, giving MacLeod time to get comfortable in the shower before he descended upon him.

~*~

Feeling a draft of cool air, Mac turned quickly to see Methos climbing into the shower with him. He stared, stupefied. It didn't even occur to him for several seconds that Methos was naked too. By that time, Methos had already switched places with him and had Mac turned so his backside faced the shower spray.

"I wash your back; you wash mine," Methos offered, no hint of amusement, seduction or anything else in the reserved voice. Only a deepening tone that clued Mac in that Methos was up to something. That deep flat tone sent a shiver through MacLeod -- a shiver not of unease but of pleasure and expectation.

Going along with whatever plan Methos was hatching, Mac leaned his forearms against the shower wall, his head resting on them, and enjoyed the sensation of Methos soaping his back. He didn't protest when the hands strayed to his buttocks, lightly massaging them, before moving down his legs.

His breath did catch when he felt Methos press up against his back to reach around and soap Mac's chest. The hands once more strayed downward but halted abruptly just above his groin and the beginnings of an obvious arousal.

Methos maneuvered them around so that Mac was now facing the shower spray. Mac quickly rinsed the soap off then turned to Methos, an expectant gleam in his eyes. "My turn," he murmured softly.

Smiling secretively, Methos easily capitulated, turning his back to Mac for easy access and gave himself over to those magnificent hands.

Methos wasn't surprised when Mac followed the same path his own hands had followed on the Scot's body minutes before. When the hands slid over his buttocks, Methos longed for a finger to stray in between in a lover's stroke of intimacy but he was to be denied. Either Mac was actually innocent of what was occurring here, which was highly doubtful in Methos' opinion, or the Scot was playing with him, familiar with the game of anticipation.

Nearly purring with contentment, Methos almost melted to his knees when Mac's body wrapped around his to soap Methos' chest. His eyes popped open, comically surprised, when he swore he felt a slight pinch of his nipples. But when he looked down, Mac's hands were nowhere near the aforementioned body parts and he wasn't sure if he had imagined it or not. Then he found himself standing under a shower of warm water, the soap washing away but the touch lingering.

Sensing a  creeping doubt from the other man, Methos swiftly took matters in hand once more. Just before stepping from the shower, he lightly traced a finger down MacLeod's nose and over the full lips. Cupping the Scot's chin gently in one hand, he touched his lips to Mac's in a feather-light kiss that melted hearts with the unexpected intimacy of it. Then Methos pulled away and, stepping from the shower, grabbed a towel to dry off.

MacLeod's speculative gaze followed the oldest immortal's hindquarters as a still nude Methos exited out the bathroom door and headed down the short hallway for the bedroom. A slow delighted smile lit Duncan's face like a sunrise popping over a frosted mountain peak.

Things were going to be okay between them, the Highlander suddenly knew. Things were going to be more than okay; they were going to be
magnificent.

And that, MacLeod knew, would grow to be one of the biggest understatements of his life.

Quickly toweling off, he followed Methos to the bedroom, not bothering with clothes. He suspected he wouldn't be needing those for quite some time.


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