Rated NC-17 for graphic polyamorous (m/f/m) sexual content written in loving detail. If you can't handle that, don't read it. If you can't handle that and you read it anyway, don't complain to me. Highlander is a trademark of Rysher Entertainment, characters not used by permission. No infringement is intended. This work is not to be marketed for profit. Note: This story is a direct sequel to Phoenix. --Kellie Matthews

Playing With Fire
© 1996 Kellie Matthews

        Amanda stood looking at the barge for a moment. The sensation of another Immortal in the area was strong, too strong. It wasn't just Duncan in there. Who was with him? Not Richie. Being dead here, he was exiled from France for the foreseeable future. Keirdwyn? Annie? Who? Flickering light shone from the portholes... fire, or candle light. With a sniff she glanced at her watch, and her eyebrows lifted as she saw that it was a little after four in the morning.
        A flare of jealousy went through her as she thought about which of Duncan's Immortal paramours might be holed up in bed with him. Somehow it always took her by surprise when she showed up on the spur of the moment and found him with some other woman, especially another Immortal. Even though they had the kind of relationship where he didn't question her about her lovers, and she did him the same favor, every once in awhile she couldn't keep the green-eyed beast at bay.
        Her eyes narrowed, and a feline smile curved her mouth. There was one bad thing about sleeping with another Immortal, it tended to deaden one's realization of Presence, effectively negating the early warning system. They wouldn't even realize she was there until she was already in. She stepped lightly onto the boarding ramp and soundlessly made her way to the door. Taking out her picks, she made short work of the laughably inadequate locks on the barge's door and stepped inside.
        Candles. It was candles. She frowned. He hadn't lit candles for her in ages. The air was heavy with the scent of warm honey and sex. She hesitated a moment. It really wasn't good manners... but since when had that ever stopped her? She stared hard at the shadowed bed, seeing only vague shapes under the rumpled covers. Whoever was with him was big, a lot bigger than she was. That ruled out Annie. She glanced down at her own svelte form and lifted her nose haughtily. Why bed a plow-horse when you could have a thoroughbred? She walked a few steps closer and struck a casual pose.
        "Hello, Duncan! I'm sorry to stop by so late without calling, but I just got into town and..." she stopped, staring as one of the bed's occupants sat bolt upright, blinking sleepily as he groped for a sword that clearly wasn't next to the bed where it belonged. Just as she registered the man's short-cropped dark hair, his eyes focused on her with startled recognition.
        "Amanda!" he exclaimed, sounding more than a little annoyed.
        "Methos?" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
        He stared at her, assessingly, then shifted the covers to protect his bedmate's identity as he lifted his eyebrows innocently. "I live here."
        "You live here?" She couldn't believe it. Methos was living on the barge? What had happened to Duncan? Why hadn't he told her he was moving? Had he gone back to the States already?
        "Duncan owed me a favor, a big one. I took the boat."
        "The boat?"
        "Yes, the boat. Have you got some rare disorder that makes you repeat everything I say?"
        She felt a renewed surge of embarrassment as his words brought home just how much of a fool she was making of herself. "I ah... no. It's just that, I'm just a bit... Oh, damn!" She gave up and tried a new tack. "I'm really sorry, really! Forgive me for barging in. I didn't mean to disturb you and your friend... I'll just go now."
        She had begun to back away when the covers began to shake. A moment later a suspiciously familiar chortle sounded. Methos grinned, pretending to laugh, but she stared at the bed with narrowed eyes. She knew that laugh, and it wasn't Methos'. She knew it. She looked from Methos to the form beneath the cover, and back several times before her eyes went wide with realization.
        "MacLeod?" she squeaked, her voice an octave higher than normal.
        The chortles erupted in a volcano of laughter. A broad, dark hand yanked the cover down revealing a very amused, and very rumpled, Duncan MacLeod. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, and her jaw dropped. Duncan, and Methos, together in bed, naked. The smell of sex unmistakable in the air. There was no arguing this one. It was no dream. She remembered Methos talking wistfully about Duncan nearly a year earlier, before he'd gone off with the mortal woman, Alexa. She had assumed he'd given up on Duncan. Apparently not. Finally she smiled and shook her head.
        "I have to hand it to you, Methos. I didn't really think you could do it."
        He shrugged, looking insufferably pleased with himself. "Sans doute', milady. It was only a matter of time."
        She sketched a respectful bow. "Apparently so." Her gaze sought out her friend and sometime-lover's eyes. He grinned back at her, clearly unembarrassed... unusually so. He was usually so adorably flustered when caught in a compromising situation. Why not now? Far from being flustered, he actually shook a reproving finger at her.
        "Since when do you go around telling people about my prowess in bed, woman?"
        She thought back anxiously, trying to remember saying anything to anyone. There was Michelle... they had shared a good bit of girl-talk about the Highlander. But she was still in the States! How could he know?
        "Do you really think I have a nice butt?" Duncan inquired ingenuously.
        That did it. She remembered. She and Methos had been giggling over the sight of Duncan as he leaned over the barge's railing to secure a line. She remembered the conversation as clearly as if it had just happened. It had titillated her a little bit to think that Methos wanted Duncan the same way she did. It had never occurred to her before that Duncan might be as attractive to members of his own sex as he was to hers. They had discussed that beautifully curved bit of anatomy for a moment, and then she'd told Methos, provocatively, that Duncan was worth pursuing. She groaned aloud. Damn. Stupid. Encourage your own competition, why don't you, Amanda?
        "Something wrong?" Methos queried.
        She looked at him ruefully and sank down on the sofa, wondering absently why one of the cushions was missing. "No, nothing at all. I guess I'm a little tired. I just got off a plane from the States, and I had to fly coach!"
        Both men made appropriate noises of sympathy as she yawned delicately.
        "And you were so exhausted you decided to stop by my place?" Duncan queried, one eyebrow lifted, his voice amused.
        "Well..." she temporized, batting her eyelashes. "I was hoping you'd invite me to stay. After what happened at the Hennessy, I'm afraid I've become persona non grata in the better hotels around town."
        Duncan relented immediately. "Of course you can stay, you know you're always wel..." he hesitated and shot a quick glance at Methos, who nodded, and he continued. "...come."
        "Oh, no. I couldn't, not now," Amanda said, suspecting that their sleeping arrangement was new enough that she would be a definite imposition.
        "Why not now?" Methos asked blandly, patting the covers beside him. "Come on, climb in."
        Amanda stared at him as her pulse rate climbed. In bed... with both of them? Oh my. The temperature in the room seemed to have suddenly skyrocketed. If she'd had a fan she'd have been plying it madly.
        "Ah... I'm not sure that's a good idea..." she began, even though a little voice inside her was urging her to rip off her clothes and join them.
        "Come on, it's plenty big enough, and we're all tired. After all, you did wake us up out of a sound sleep."
        Sleep. They were inviting her to sleep. Oh. Trying not to look disappointed, she sighed. "That's okay, I'll just sack out over here."
        "What, you afraid it's contagious or something?" Duncan asked, frowning. "Come on."
        At first she didn't get it. "Afraid what's contagious," she began. Then it hit her and she chuckled. "Oh, heaven's no! If bisexuality were contagious you'd have caught it from me a long time ago." She grinned and winked. As Duncan digested that remark, she thought about the offer some more. Actually, the bed was a lot more comfortable than the couch, and hell, she could keep her hands to herself if necessary. And they had asked her. She stood up and started to unzip her skirt. "Okay guys, make room."
        Somehow not quite comfortable with the idea of being completely nude, she stripped down to her silk camisole and panties and then crawled into the space they had made between them. Both of them were buck naked, a fact she tried to ignore, as tempting as it was to sneak a peek to see how Methos compared to Duncan. As they settled in and Duncan leaned over to give her a kiss. Just a "goodnight" sort of kiss, which felt a little strange. It felt even stranger when Methos did the same thing, then drew back with little frown on his face.
        "Did I ever say thank you for being so understanding about the crystal?" he asked.
        She shook her head, and he sighed.
        "It's hard to remember one's manners sometimes. Thank you."
        "No problem," she said, yawning. "Good night." Turning over, she snuggled up against Duncan's much-discussed backside, a position she was familiar with. Methos started to rub her back. God, it felt good. Soothing, relaxing. If she were a cat she'd have been purring. Her eyelids started to droop, and her breathing deepened. At this rate she'd be....

        Duncan woke up with the light. A pale gray radiance seeped in through the portholes. He'd been pushed almost to the very edge of the bed by his sleeping companion. Glancing over, he was momentarily startled to realize that he had two of them, then he remembered what had happened. He studied them; Amanda was curled up like a cat, and Methos splayed out like royalty. Between the two of them, they took up most of the bed. Well, he was over-warm, and needed to use the bathroom badly. He eased out of bed and took care of the call of nature, then went and sat on the couch.
        Seeing the two of them like that really brought home the events of the past couple of weeks. He was surprised to find he couldn't decide which of them he felt more strongly about. No, surprise wasn't the right word. Stunned was more like it. He'd known Amanda for centuries, and Methos only a couple of years, but he knew that now he would not be able to give up either of them. Confused, needing to think, he pulled on some sweats and his running shoes. After spending most of the previous day in bed, his body was screaming for exercise of a less focused nature, and a run in the cold morning air would help clear his mind.
        He slipped quietly out the door, leaving his friends to sleep. No, that was wrong, he thought, as he started to run. Not friends, not just friends anyway. Lovers. God, that sounded so strange. He let his mind go blank as his pace picked up, feeling the cold air try to snatch the breath from his lungs. He'd think about it later.


        Methos woke up from a nightmare with a sudden sense of loss. He reached out to make sure Duncan was still in bed, but instead of the hard, muscular form he expected, his hand encountered soft, silk-covered curves. He opened his eyes and started to lift his hand away, only to have one of Amanda's smaller ones cover his and hold it in place. Her eyes were closed as she made a little sigh and turned to burrow closer to him, as if seeking warmth. Beneath his palm, her nipple rose. He responded instinctively to that, shifting his hand so his fingers could tease the small nub. Another part of him responded rather instinctively as well. She had lovely breasts, not large, but they filled palm nicely.
        Feeling vaguely guilty at his response to her, he let his hand flatten again, leaving it in place under hers, but no longer caressing her. He lifted his head enough to confirm that Duncan was gone. Looking around, he saw no sign of him in any of the barge's small spaces, nor could he hear him in the bathroom. Clearly, he'd gone out. That must have been what triggered the nightmare. He swallowed nervously. The idea that Duncan had gone out without saying a word made him nervous. His mind filled with all kinds of explanations, ranging from the simple (he'd gone to get breakfast), to the disastrous (Amanda's presence had reminded him that he really only liked women and now he was devastated at having made love with Methos). The more he thought about it, the less likely the former seemed, and the more likely the latter seemed.
        Amanda finally relaxed, and he started to ease his hand out from underneath hers, only to have her clamp it in place again. Her free hand stole over to his chest, and her fingers slid back and forth over one of his nipples. He tensed, eyeing her face, but she still seemed serenely asleep. She probably thought he was Duncan. Methos thought about all the times Amanda must have woken up next to Duncan like this, and felt a tremendous surge of jealousy. Not caring if he woke her, he pushed her hand away and yanked his hand off her breast. He sat up, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the doorway as if concentrating could make Duncan reappear. Amanda made a startled sound, and he sensed her sitting up as well. After a moment she reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
        "What?" he snapped, knowing she didn't deserve it but unable to stop himself.
        "I'm sorry, I guess I thought you were Duncan."
        He sighed, feeling guilty. "I know you did. It's all right, you didn't do anything wrong."
        She was quiet for a moment, then the hand on his shoulder started to stroke him soothingly. "Methos, it's okay. He's just gone out for a run."
        He looked sharply at her, trying not to see the sympathy and understanding in her eyes. "How do you know?"
        "I know him, he runs nearly every morning. I usually wake up after he's gone, since I'm a late sleeper and he's an early riser."
        Relief crept through him, and he drew a long, ragged breath. "Oh."
        She smiled. "How long has it been?"
        "How long has what been?"
        "How long have you two been... together?"
        Methos laughed, closing his eyes. "Two weeks."
        She didn't reply at first, then she sighed. "Do I have timing or what?"
        "It's not your fault."
        "I guess not. Umm... can I ask you a question?"
        "You can ask." Implied was the possibility that he might not answer.
        "Are you really living here?"
        He chuckled. "No, though I really did threaten to take the boat away in return for helping him with one of his schemes and almost losing my head in the process! I've been over a few times, but I have to be careful not to get noticed by his local Watcher. That would blow my cover for sure. Besides, at this stage in my life I'm just not the 'setting up housekeeping' type, and frankly neither is he."
        Amanda made a face. "No, I can attest to that. Somehow I've never managed to catch him when we were both in a nesting mood." She sighed, and he knew she was thinking about her on-again-off-again relationship with Duncan. Methos had some hope of establishing something like that himself. After a moment she spoke again. "You know, you really surprised me. I didn't think Duncan would ever...."
        "Neither did I."
        "Was it hard?"
        He burst out laughing. "I'm going to assume you didn't mean that colloquially."
        She made a face and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You are so bad! You know what I meant."
        "Do you really want to know?" he asked, rather amazed. He'd expected to find her jealous... perhaps because he knew he had been.
        "I'm dying to." she said conspiratorially. "It's just so amazing to me! I have to know all about it!"
        He thought about that for a moment, then another question occurred to him. "Are you really?"
        "Am I really what?" she asked, puzzled.
        She giggled. "You didn't really think Rebecca and I were just roommates, did you? Now, tell me!"
        Methos told her. At first she was just interested and sympathetic, then the more he spoke, he started to notice things. Like the fact that she was flushed, and that her breathing was a little rapid, and her eyes a bit dilated. It dawned on him that she was getting aroused. So was he, in the retelling. When he finished, she looked wistfully toward the door, as if hoping the Highlander would walk through it.
        "Damn," was all she said.
        He knew exactly how she felt. After a minute, she spoke again, her eyes faraway, and her voice deceptively matter-of-fact. "You know, when you invited me into bed with you two last night, I thought for a minute... well, never mind."
        He looked at her poised profile for a long moment, and reached over to ruffle the blonde fluff on her head. Thank goodness it had grown out enough that she didn't look like a scarlet-fever victim anymore, though he wished she would go back to her natural color.
        "Actually, if things had been a little different, I probably would have," he said, utterly serious.
        She turned toward him, eyes gone wide. "Methos... I..."
        He shook his head. "Don't say anything you might regret."
        She considered that, then nodded. "Good plan. But if the circumstances ever are right, you let me know."
        "I promise, ma coeur, but I've waited too long for this." He gestured silently toward the empty place where Duncan had slept.
        "I know," she said, giving him a doe-eyed look that would have slain a mortal man, as she leaned over to kiss him. It was a soft, open kiss, full of promises. He returned it in kind, fully intending to keep them someday.


        Duncan walked back and forth outside the barge, cooling down before he went in. It had been a good run, and his muscles ached slightly. He stretched one last time, then turned toward the ramp. A smile curved his mouth as he got close to the door. He didn't have any really good reason to smile, other than the fact that two people he cared very much for were behind that door. The run had taken care of his anxiety... or perhaps the endorphins it had generated had simply overwhelmed the stress. Whichever, he was looking forward to taking a quick shower and then crawling back under the covers between those two.
        He had to admit, he'd had some rather interesting thoughts about that situation during the run. He still wasn't too sure about Methos' motivation behind inviting Amanda to join them. He'd gone along with it, and they had done nothing but sleep, but the curiosity was still there. What would it be like? He'd shared a woman before, he'd been with two women before, but this was... different. He opened the door and stepped inside, to hear Methos' voice.
        "I promise, ma coeur, but I've waited too long for this."
        Duncan stared, a bit stunned as he watched Methos gesture toward the bed. He was even more stunned a moment later, when Amanda whispered some reply and leaned over to kiss him. It wasn't just a peck, either. He stood staring, frozen in place. Somehow, of all the things he'd expected to find on his return, this was something he'd never considered. After everything Methos had said to him in the past two weeks, after everything they'd done together... the thought that he'd turn around and make love to Amanda as soon as Duncan's back was turned was staggering. The fact that Amanda would let him hurt nearly as much. In his mind, he kept hearing Methos' half-joking comment "If you died, Amanda would be free to date."
        He must have made some sound, for Methos' head lifted, and his gaze locked with Duncan's. Duncan watched Methos' expression change from what seemed to be pleasure or amusement, to utter dismay as he rolled away from Amanda.
        "Duncan, it's not what you think..." he began lamely.
        "Oh? You're reading minds these days?" Duncan asked, his voice like ice.
        "You know that's not what I meant. I know what this looks like, but it isn't!"
        "Isn't what? You and Amanda in bed, kissing?"
        "Well, yes, we were kissing, but it was just a friendly kiss."
        Duncan laughed humorlessly. "Very friendly."
        "Damn it! Duncan... you have to listen to me!"
        "No, I don't." Duncan reached for the door to open it, then paused, looking back. "It was all an act, wasn't it? You just wanted me in your bed, and you knew exactly how to manipulate me."
        If Duncan hadn't known better, he would have thought what flared in Methos' eyes was hurt, that the expression on his face was pain, but it couldn't be.
        "Duncan..." Methos said, then stopped, his voice breaking convincingly.
        "Oh for god's sake!" Amanda said, bouncing out of bed and to her feet. She looked rather amusing, still clad in black silk panties and camisole, her hands fisted on her hips. "MacLeod, you can be such an ass sometimes! We lay there and talked about you for the last half hour! And he didn't kiss me, I kissed him, okay? And I only did it because he was being nice. Can't you tell when someone loves you, you big oaf?"
        Duncan looked at her through narrowed eyes. Amanda had never been the most truthful of souls, but he'd gotten pretty good at catching her when she lied. She didn't seem to be lying right now. The epithets leant credence... she only called him names when he was being pigheaded.
        Amanda stepped closer, putting her hand on his arm. "Mac, I know I haven't always told the truth about everything," she said, almost as if she'd read his mind. "But I always have about the important stuff. I'm not lying now. The only way he would come on to me right now is if you told him to."
        Amanda's sincerity was hard to resist. He looked back at Methos, who looked nearly as bad as he had the night he'd shown up after Alexa died. He couldn't fake that. So far as Duncan had been able to tell, the only emotion Methos could convincingly fake was amusement. Had he jumped to a conclusion? He had admit that the situation was one all too easy to misinterpret. He'd been caught in similar ones himself on more than one occasion. His gaze shifted to Amanda, who looked like she was about to cry.
        "Duncan, you know I'd never dishonor you like that. You know he wouldn't either. Deep inside, you know it."
        The hell of it was, he did. They wouldn't. It made him feel like crap to realize just what a jerk he'd been. Now how could he make it up to them? One thing was certain, he had to apologize. "Amanda, Methos, I'm sorry."
        Methos put his hands over his face and collapsed backward onto the bed with a groan. Duncan took a step toward him, then stopped, not sure what he should do. Amanda glared at him.
        "Get over there!" she hissed.
        "Get!" she repeated, planting her hands on his butt and pushing him, hard. He stumbled, recovered and kept going. When he sat down on the bed she waved him down, and didn't look satisfied until he reached to take Methos in his arms.
        "That's better," she said cheerfully "You two make up, I'll make breakfast."
        Methos wrapped his arms around Duncan, his face close as he whispered fiercely. "I'd rather you kill me than doubt me, Highlander."
        "I could never do that. Methos, I'm sorry. Like Amanda said, I was an ass."
        "But such an ass...." Methos sighed, sliding a hand down to his backside.
        Duncan grinned, knowing he'd been forgiven. Thank heavens... or rather, Amanda. He realized then what Amanda had just said, and groaned ruefully. "I just might have."
        "You might have what?"
        "Killed you, and me too. Amanda said she was going to cook."
        "You owe her an apology too, you know."
        Duncan sobered. "I know." He watched at her as she opened cabinets, scoping out their contents, and then looked back at Methos.
        "So, what were you two doing? I guess I should have asked that first."
        Methos smiled. "Yes, you should have. She wanted to know how... we... happened. I told her. To tell the truth it got her a little turned on, and she confessed that at first she thought we were inviting her to a threesome last night and was disappointed that we weren't. I told her had we not been so new, it would definitely have been a consideration." He studied Duncan's face assessingly. "Was I wrong?"
        Duncan shook his head, remembering all the thoughts he'd had while running. "No, you weren't. When I got back, I was thinking about both of you, and wondering how I was ever going to manage it."
        Methos lifted an eyebrow. "Manage? Both of us? Is that what you want?"
        Embarrassed, Duncan looked away as he nodded. "I-- don't think I can do without either of you."
        Methos reached out to touch his face softly. "You're growing up, MacLeod. And it only took you four hundred years. I think that may be a record for one of us."
        A metallic clatter, followed by a rather foul curse in Old English drew their attention to the kitchen, where Amanda was trying to balance two bowls, a skillet, and a whisk. Methos nodded toward her.
        "Why don't you save both our lives and invite her over here so you can apologize?"
        Duncan looked from Methos to Amanda, and back, his gaze speculative. "Isn't it a little early to be adding new players to this game?"
        Methos smiled. "Duncan, I'm five thousand years old. Believe me, I can handle this."
        "But can I?" Duncan asked ruefully.
        Methos gazed at him evenly. "I think you'd already decided that before you walked back in the door."
        Duncan closed his eyes. Methos was right. As usual. Damn, that trait was going to get annoying. He was used to being the one who was usually right. Methos sometimes made him feel like Richie... which was probably his just reward. He had come back to the barge with every goal of finding a way to keep both Methos and Amanda as lovers. He'd just figured it would take a lot longer.
        "Amanda?" he called.
        She jumped and dropped the entire collection of kitchen goods, except for the whisk. When they'd finished crashing and clanging on the floor, she looked up sheepishly. "Sorry, you startled me. What?"
        "Forget breakfast and come here."
        Her eyes widened, and she went to put her hand to her heart, but ended up poking herself in the chest with the whisk. She didn't notice. "Me?"
        Duncan nodded.
        "Go there?" she pointed at the bed with the beater.
        They both nodded.
        She studied them a moment, looked at the mess she'd made, looked back at them, and tossed the whisk down with the rest of the detritus. "My mama didn't raise no fool."
        Methos and Duncan looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
        "No fool, perhaps, but a thief." Duncan said.
        "A troublemaker...." Methos added.
        "A gambler...." Duncan put in, playing along.
        "A vixen...." Methos continued.
        Amanda stood next to the bed, scowling. "Did you two invite me over here just to insult me?"
        "Not to mention gorgeous." Duncan hastily added.
        "And talented...." Methos amended.
        "And annoying...." Duncan caught her hand and pulled her down on top of him. "And maddening, and sexy." He finished his recital by kissing her.
        "Hey!" Methos complained. "It was my turn."
        Duncan ignored him for the moment, knowing it would be okay, and concentrated on kissing Amanda. She kissed him back, enthusiastically, and he was rather sorry to break the contact a moment later, but he had to in order to apologize.
        "Amanda, I'm sorry. I should never have doubted you."
        "That's right, you shouldn't have," she agreed as she snuggled close, her face against his chest. After a moment she raised her head, her nose wrinkled slightly. "Um... Duncan?"
        "What?" he asked guardedly, since her tone and expression indicated a problem.
        She tugged at his shirt and pants. "Would you mind taking these off? I think there's a reason why they're called 'sweats.'"
        It took him a moment to remember that he'd just come back from running, and that Amanda hated the smell of sweat. He set her away from him and rolled to his feet. "Actually, I suspect I need to do more than that. I'll be back in ten minutes. In the meantime, I promise not to get all bent out of shape if I come out and find you... warming up."
        Duncan ducked into the bathroom and shed his clothes in record time. Deliberately setting the water temperature to cool to offset his heated thoughts, he ducked into the shower and made quick work of washing up, enjoying the tension the chill water brought to his skin. Finished, he shut off the water and stepped out. He toweled off enough that he wasn't dripping, then looked quietly around the corner, wondering what might be happening.
        Amanda lay on her stomach, Methos knelt, straddling her, though the sheet and her panties separated them almost chastely. His hands moved under her camisole to touch the living silk of her flesh, molding and shaping the slight but firm muscles. She shivered under his hands, and Methos smiled. He let his fingers move lower, to the rounding of her buttocks, his fingers sliding underneath the edge of her panties. Duncan kept watching, feeling like a voyeur. It was oddly arousing to watch someone else touching that familiar body; to watch the man he'd just made love with touch a woman he'd also made love to. A shiver went through him that had nothing to do with his cool shower.
        He might have stood there longer had Methos not looked up just then, his gaze darkening as it travelled down his naked body. What had a moment earlier been just a slight stirring suddenly bloomed into full-fledged erectness. Methos grinned and leaned down to whisper something to Amanda, who looked over her shoulder at Duncan, her gaze sliding down his body just like Methos' had. Methos looked from Duncan to Amanda.
        "What do you think, should we let the kid play too?"
        She made a show of thinking about it, then finally sighed. "Oh, I suppose so. It'd be a shame to waste that."
        Duncan dropped the towel he still held in his hands, and took the few steps that brought him to the bed. He put a knee on the bed, but before he could ease himself down, Methos reached over and tangled his fingers in his wet hair, using it to drag him over for a hard, consuming kiss. Duncan caught Methos' shoulders for balance, and kissed him back. Methos put a hand against his face, fingers stroking the night's growth of beard. A moment later Duncan moaned into the kiss as a hand slid between his thighs to cup the heavy weight of his testicles and then move upward to curl around the rigid shaft of his cock.
        As the hand moved slowly, teasingly, Duncan realized that both of Methos' hands were well above his waist. Which meant the one stroking him was Amanda's. Suddenly things seemed way too intense, and the edge far too close for comfort. He pulled his mouth from Methos' and sucked air into his lungs in panting gasps as he tried to find his control.
        They didn't let him. Methos pushed him, and off-balance, he fell back onto the bed. A moment later he was effectively pinned in place as Methos leaned across his midriff, and Amanda straddled one of his legs. She had stripped off her lingerie and he could feel the silky tickle of her close-trimmed pubic hair against his skin. She began to kiss a path up his leg, pausing to nip and lick every so often.
        Methos worked from his chest downward, starting with one very sensitive nipple, then moving down his side with tickling bites until he reached his hip. There he traced the lattice of Duncan's abdominal muscles with his tongue, following their path down to the thick, still-damp curls at his groin. From below Amanda reached his inner thigh, and continued upward with moist, toothy kisses. Some still rational part of his mind realized where they were converging and he was torn between surrendering, and fighting them so he could retain some tiny shred of command over himself. He took too long to decide, and the choice was taken from him as their mouths met on his rigid flesh.
        He moaned, feeling their kiss as it encompassed him. Desperate, he reached out to touch something, anything, and found only the strong arch of a back and shoulder within reach. He followed that with his hand until his fingers found the curve of a neck, and the velvet brush of short-cropped hair against his fingers. It could be either of them, but he figured it had to be Methos, since he was closer. He stroked that softness and wished there was more he could do, as Methos and Amanda moved on him, sucking, licking.
        Duncan felt vaguely guilty that they were doing all the work, but not enough to make the effort needed to change things. This was too good, too damn good. His body arched under their ministrations as they tortured him. One would take him briefly into the hot, wet shelter of their mouth only to let him go and blow on him, the air seeming cold against his overheated skin. Then the other would repeat the sequence.
        He realized he could tell which one of them had him at any given moment without even looking. They each had a distinct style, a distinct feel. Amanda was more delicate, using her tongue like a cat, her hand always cupping him below, her fingers evoking shudders of delight as the touch called up some of the newer pleasures he had discovered the past two days. Methos, being male himself, knew that strong suction and a set rhythm could drive him nearly to the brink, but he always refused to push him over. He heard Amanda make a soft, familiar moan, and opened his eyes to see Methos brush his thumb across her lips over and over, stroking their swollen softness, watched Amanda flick her tongue out to taste him. Ah, god, he wanted to touch her, to taste her, to do something besides lie there!
        He pushed against Methos' shoulder until he finally lifted, and Amanda moved away as well. He reached for Methos, who let himself be caught and kissed, a hot, silky meshing of tongues He felt Amanda's hands on him again, urging him onto his side, and he complied. Methos moved away but before he could protest, Amanda had taken his place, her lithe, slender form full against his, her cool-tipped breasts against his chest, one of her thighs sliding over his to bring the humid heat of her mons against the hard length of his shaft. He ran his hands down her sides, over the soft flare of her hips, behind to cup the shallow curves of her buttocks and draw her forward, sliding her silky wetness over him, touching the cluster of nerves at the apex of her thighs with the blunt tip of his cock.
        She moaned and shuddered, taking up the motion herself, freeing Duncan's hands to move lower, between her thighs, finding the delicate folds that hid the well of her body and parting them so he could ease a finger deep. As he did, her teeth found his shoulder and bit hard, he didn't care. The mark would be gone in minutes. She moved, stroking herself over him again and again. He followed her rhythm with his fingers.
        Methos made his presence known, his lips grazing the back of Duncan's neck, then between his shoulder blades, moving down his back until finally they were on the hard curve of a buttock. Duncan was suddenly very aware, and even more aroused, if that were possible. Methos nipped and licked at the taut flesh, and then his fingers were sliding between his cheeks. The contrast between the slick, cool substance on Methos' fingers and the heat of his own body made him gasp, his breath hissing over clenched teeth. Methos shifted, bringing his mouth to Duncan's ear.
        "Relax, I don't want to hurt you," he said, following his words with a swirl of his tongue on the sensitive inner surface of Duncan's ear.
        Memories exploded through him, exquisite pain-pleasure, the wrenching delight of being taken. He shuddered and tried not to anticipate, because that would bring tension with it.
        "Better, much better..."
        Clever fingers teased him, entering minutely, withdrawing, pressing deep, then shallow again, the pattern repeating until he thought he would lose his mind. Amanda reached down and took his pulsing shaft in her hand, shifted her knee up over his hip, and guided him until he was pressed just a bare half-inch inside her. He would have surged forward, except for the voice in his ear.
        "Wait," it instructed.
        He waited. Methos' fingers were replaced by the velvet-steel of his cock. As he pressed his entry, he bit lightly at Duncan's earlobe. Duncan didn't need a prompt. He couldn't have stopped himself for anything. He entered Amanda in a hot, liquid slide, just as he was filled, his body aching with the unique distension-constriction he had learned so recently to delight in. The dual sensation, penetration given and received, was so staggeringly ecstatic that he thought for a moment he would pass out. The moment of dizziness passed, and suddenly he felt present inside his body even more strongly than before. He opened his eyes and studied Amanda's gamine face, her eyes closed, her lashes dark fans on her flushed cheeks. Her mouth was full and tender, her lips slightly parted. He brushed his own lips across hers, feeling the hot whisper of her breath with his tongue. She reached up to thread her fingers in his hair and pull his mouth hard against hers.
        Methos went deep then, and Duncan's breath caught on a sob of pleasure. Amanda lifted her mouth from his so he could breathe, Duncan felt Methos lean forward, and heard the sound of their kiss. He pushed hard into Amanda's yielding heat, felt the clasp and give of her around him, but at the same time he felt Methos sliding from him. He pushed back against him to keep from losing contact, and used his hands to pull Amanda with him. Better. He sighed with relief, and Amanda laughed softly. He groaned at the tremors her laughter sent through her flesh and into him.
        "Be still Duncan," she whispered.
        "I can't!" he gasped. "I have to move!"
        "No, you don't," Methos assured him, his voice a throaty growl as he continued to move in tiny undulations that were about to send Duncan over the edge. "You can be still, and you will."
        "Or we'll make you, love." Amanda added in a voice he knew better than to defy. "Don't think we can't."
        Ah... god. What images that silky promise conjured up! He almost moved just to make them follow through, but decided instead to at least try and do as they asked. He covered the hand on his hip with one of his own, and left the other resting on Amanda's thigh, caressing her as she tormented him.
        "I'm still," he managed.
        They weren't. Slowly, they moved in him and on him, bodies slick and hot and perfect as they embraced him. He let himself relax, moving as they moved him, the conflagration inside him burning higher and higher with each sigh, each kiss, each entry and each accommodation. He heard the rhythmic cadence of Methos' breath harsh in his ear as his body curled forward into Duncan's, pushing his hips into Amanda, who yielded softly to each undulation. They moved almost as one being, a creature of fire. Suddenly Amanda gasped, and let out a low, soft moan. Duncan felt the silken shiver of her body around him.
        Her release made him crazy. He had to move. He rolled, taking both his weight, and Methos' on his knees and forearms as he pumped hard into her still-pulsing sheath. She bent her knees and arched into his strokes as they drove her orgasm even higher. After only a second, Methos hands covered his on the bed, his knees taking his own weight as his movements echoed Duncan's. That was more than he could bear. He buried himself deep in Amanda's welcoming heat as the lightning exploded through him and he turned to liquid fire.

        Amanda sounded a bit distressed. His eyes flew open and he looked down at her. She was looking a bit red in the face, not in a flushed-and-sated sort of way, either. It dawned on him that she was probably having trouble breathing, what with two people on top of her. He shoved himself back up onto his hands and knees, taking Methos with him.
        "God, I'm sorry!"
        "Me too," echoed Methos.
        Duncan gasped a little as his other lover eased out of him. He wasn't sure he'd ever quite get used to that sensation. Amanda took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and a smile curved her mouth.
        "That's better. I wouldn't have minded, except that you two weigh a ton and it was getting a little stuffy."
        "That's one of the hazards of being on the bottom." Methos said, flopping onto his back with a sigh. "But was it worth it?"
        She gave a whole-body shrug, her expression blissful. "Need you ask?" she queried.
        Duncan looked from one to the other, and let himself collapse on the side of the bed that still had a little room. "I thought I was going to die."
        "Don't be so melodramatic." Methos said, chuckling. "People don't die from orgasms." "Who's talking about coming? I was talking about that not moving crap!"
        Amanda laughed. "I told you he couldn't do it!"
        Duncan looked at her sharply. "What?"
        "True." Methos answered. "I owe you a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. What year would you prefer?"
        Amanda considered that for a moment, the shrugged. "I'll leave that up to you... as long as it's one of the most expensive ones."
        Duncan looked from one to the other, eyebrows raised incredulously. "You two bet on me?" he demanded.
        "Sorry, it's an old habit," Amanda said, not looking at all apologetic.
        He swung his gaze to Methos, who had the grace to blush. "It was her idea," he offered lamely.
        Duncan flopped onto his back, arms crossed on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. They'd bet on him! A bloody bottle of wine! Expensive wine, yes, but... really! As he thought about it, his indignation faded, stealthily being replaced by amusement. He set his jaw so he wouldn't smile, and lay there in stony silence, wondering how long it would take to get a real apology out of them. Ten seconds ticked by, twenty, thirty.
        "Duncan?" Methos sounded uncertain.
        Duncan remained silent, though he had to resort to biting the inside of his lip. Ten more seconds passed.
        "Duncan?" This time Methos actually sounded worried.
        "MacLeod?" Amanda chimed in. She sounded concerned too.
        He turned his back to them, knowing he was about to break into a huge grin. Not just a grin. Laughter. He swallowed it, shoulders shaking with merriment.
        "Oh, gods," Methos sounded a little frantic. "Duncan, I'm sorry! I wouldn't hurt you for anything! It was thoughtless, I know. Please...."
        A warm hand found his shoulder and Methos leaned over to see his face, and froze as he realized Duncan was laughing, not crying. Duncan put a finger to his lips and shook his head minutely. Methos managed to arrange his face into appropriately tragic lines as he sat back and looked at Amanda. He didn't say a word. There were a few seconds of silence.
        "Mac?" Amanda said, her voice full of remorse. "I didn't mean anything by it, honest! You know me, I just get carried away sometime...huh!"
        Duncan rolled over and his hands unerringly found her ribcage. She shrieked and laughed as he tickled her, and she flailed at his head and shoulders with both hands.
        "You rat! I thought you were upset! I thought you were crying!" She gasped. "Ooooh!" Her fingers found his ribs, but brought no response. She'd forgotten he wasn't ticklish. "Stop it! Right now!"
        He eased off, letting her catch her breath, and glared at both of them. "I'll no' have you bettin' on me, d'ye hear?"
        They both nodded solemnly, then Amanda spoiled it by giggling. "I love it when you talk Scots to me. I do so miss your 'lout' years sometimes. You were a lot more fun then!"
        Methos looked at her, eyebrows raised. "More fun than this? I don't believe it!"
        She considered that, then sighed. "Okay, you've got me. He's learned a lot since then. But he could use to loosen up sometimes."
        "Now that I'll second. We'll just have to make sure he stays loose from here on out."
        She grinned. "Sounds good to me."
        Duncan shook his head. "You two are playing with fire."
        "I know," Methos said, his voice low and rough. "But I love to feel you burn."
        Amanda rolled her eyes. "Geez, Methos, have you been reading bad romance novels or what?"
        She looked puzzled when the two men burst into laughter. She shrugged and stretched, then suddenly sat bolt upright.
        "Oh my God! What time is it? I have an eleven o' clock appointment at Gaultier!" She scrambled out of the bed and dashed across to the kitchen to look at the clock. "No!" she shrieked. "I have twenty eight minutes to get there! Can I borrow the Citroen?"
        Duncan nodded. "The keys are...."
        "In the Greek krater, I know. You always keep them there." She grabbed her clothes off the floor and started pulling them on. Within minutes she was gone, like a whirlwind. Methos stared after her, bemusedly.
        "Is she always like that?"
        Duncan nodded. "Sometimes she's worse."
        Methos let out a low whistle. "This is going to be interesting."
        Duncan grinned. "It's already interesting. It's going to get crazy."


Return to my Home Page

Email me: kellie@www.mrks.org