Title: WinterHeat

Fandom: Highlander

Pairing: McLeod/Methos

Rating: NC-17 (slash)

Summary: Is it hot in here?

Disclaimer: Disclaimed

Feedback address: Angelee79912@yahoo.com

Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2003 at

http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003

Note: Sequel to WinterStorm and WinterThaw

Beta: By my sister Anna. With much thanks. All final errors are mine.

WinterHeat

"Methos?"

"Duncan." Methos replied. His head popping up from under the blanket. McLeod laughed when he got a good look at him.

"What?"

McLeod smiled affectionately at his new lover. Trying in vain to pat down the tuffs of hair sticking out all over Methos head. "Nothing, luv, nothing." He gathered him close. "I was just thinking its Christmas Eve.”

Methos nuzzled McLeod's neck contently. "So?"

"Well, I thinking we should be doing something else besides...." The Scot gestured expansively across the wrecked bed. "You know? Maybe we should be doing Christmas Eve stuff."

One of Methos hands went between their two bodies finding McLeod extremely receptive. "I'm happy with what were doing."

McLeod arched into the insistent touch. "I know you are, but we can't keep doing this all day."

Methos straddled, despite his words, the willing Scot. He slowly lowered himself down. Closing his eyes he moaned softly. "Oh, goddess...that feels good." He opened his eyes to look deep into McLeod's. "Why not?" He asked moving ever so slightly.

"Hmm, that does feel good. What was the question?"

"I don't know. Didn't you ask it?"

"I did?"

McLeod pulled the swaying body against him. The Scot, to his great joy, found Methos liked to touch and be touched. A lot. Each caress seeming to feed and deepen Methos hunger, as well as his own.

"Methos, you move like..."

"Say it and I'll get off and let you finish yourself."

McLeod tightened his hold on the swaying body. Taking the threat very seriously. "That's not nice."

Methos touched the Scot's mouth with his. "Well, neither is what you were going to call me." He arched his body as wave of pure pleasure coursed thru him. "Truth be told, I was that for a couple of centuries."

"Yes?"

"Hmm. Not much fun though when you're forced to do it thirty, forty times a day."

"Popular were you? Methos let me lay flat so you can ride me."

McLeod was glad he suggested it as his eyes feasted on the man above him. Methos was downright beautiful. His body gleaming with perspiration. Hazel eyes filled with heat and fire as they met his. It passed to McLeod like a physical caress. He moaned softly.

Oh god! And he though to make the man swaying above him burn for him? Instead it was McLeod who burned. Oh, how he burned. For Methos. Only for Methos.

He would never take another lover now that he'd tasted of the ancient one's sweetness. He arched up driving himself deeper. Earning a harsh moan.

Methos reached down to tangle his finger in McLeod's long hair pulling him up slightly. Their lips meeting in passion, tongues dueling violently as they sought the heat, craved the fire.

Methos moaned into McLeod's mouth sending fiery tingles he felt to his very soul.

"METHOS." McLeod screamed tossing himself willing into the molten heat of Methos passion.

***

"Methos, we really should be doing Christmas stuff."

"Why?" Methos asked from somewhere near the Scot's navel.

"Well....because it's Christmas."

Methos sighed softly. "Oh, alright."

McLeod smiled as the ancient one made his way up by sliding his body on top of his. "Well, hello there, Methos." His only response was a dissatisfied grunt. "Oh, come on, don't be that way. We've been at this all day. We smell and I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"

"No." Methos replied burying his head in McLeod's neck."

McLeod wrapped his arms around a very sticky man. "Well, I am." He said plaintively. "We haven't eaten anything since dinner yesterday. I'm really, really, REALLY hungry."

"Well, I'm not." Methos told him nibbling quite happily on McLeod's neck.

Duncan pulled his head closer. "Hmm, that feels good. How about duck with wild rice? And some baby carrots with sweet butter?"

"I'd rather have a Duncan. No duck. No wild rice. No baby carrots with sweet butter. Just a Duncan. That's all I need to sate my hunger. Actually, it's more than enough." Methos replied, as he made his way down the Scot's body. "More than enough."

McLeod moaned softly. His eyes closing as he gave himself to Methos passion once again.

***

Later, much, much later. And to McLeod's contentment finally clean. They sat at McLeod's table the remnants of a mighty fine meal scattered between them. It was no longer Christmas Eve, now two hours into Christmas Day.

"Dinner was good, Duncan. Thank you." Methos told him sipping from a glass of very, very good wine.

"You're very welcome, my friend."

Methos brows furrowed. "Friend?"

*Oh-oh.* "You're my friend aren't you, Methos?" Duncan asked hesitantly.

"Well, I thought I was a lot more than that. I guess I was wrong."

"Methos, you are."

Methos looked out into the loft. "Am I?"

McLeod sighed. He'd inadvertently released Methos insecurities again. *Damn.* "I love you."

"Do you?"

"Yes, Methos. Very much."

Silence filled the room as each immortal became lost in their own thoughts.

"Methos?"

"McLeod."

They were back to that again. "Methos?" Duncan said again.

"McLeod." The ancient responded.

Duncan couldn't stand it anymore. He went to kneel by Methos chair. "DON"T. Don't. I hate when you do that."

Methos looked down at him. His eyes distant and unreadable. "Do what?"

"Become cold and distant. Untouchable. I want my Methos back. The one with the fire and passion. The one that made me scream for hours on end, until I couldn't scream any more. And them made me scream some more."

"He's here."

"No he's not. He lost in a world of his own insecurities. What do I have to do to prove I love you and only you?" McLeod asked desperately. He didn't want to lose Methos. Not after tasting of him. The ancient one had ruined him for anyone else. And that was only after a day and a half of being the sole target of Methos passion. McLeod was already addicted to it. He would never have enough of Methos, never. Eternity was to short a time. Way to short a time.

"I don't know."

"Methos, look at me." Their eyes met. "I love you. I LOVE YOU. No one else. Not Richie. Not Joe. Not even Amanda. I love you with a passion I haven't felt for anyone in any of my four hundred years. I've had many loves, Methos. This you know, but none have consumed me the way loving you does. I Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod love you Methos with all my heart and soul. Why won't you believe me?"

"I believe you."

"No. You don't."

McLeod rose up to lay frantic kisses all over Methos face. "I love you, I love you, I love you." Thinking maybe if he said it enough Methos would finally believe him.

Methos held still under the onslaught. Not responding one way or the other. The Scot pulled away. "What would you have me do, Methos?" He asked pleadingly.

"Nothing, McLeod. There's nothing to do. I think I'd better leave."

As Methos rose Duncan pulled him close. If he let his love leave he'd never see him again. Methos was to good at hiding. An immortal lifetime without Methos was to much to bear. "NO." Softer. "No." He held the unresponsive man to him. What could he do? What could he say to made Methos believe?

Suddenly he knew. What all his heart he knew. He went onto his knees before Methos. Waiting. Silent.

"What are you doing, McLeod?" Methos asked curiously.

Duncan took Methos left hand in his, kissing the palm. "I Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod would ask for the hand of Methos."

"What?"

"I Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod would ask for the hand of Methos." He repeated.

"For what?"

"To be mine as I shall be his."

Methos continued to look at the Scot, hazel eyes deeply puzzled. McLeod sighed heavily. "I'm asking ye to marry me, ye dense immortal."

"You're asking ME to marry YOU?"

"Aye."

Those beautiful hazel eyes became shyly hopeful, slightly wistful. "Really?" Methos said in a small voice.

"Aye."

Suddenly McLeod found himself flat on his back with a very happy, very old immortal on top of him. "Oof. Didn't we already talk about this?" He laughed breathlessly. His arms holding Methos to him. Vowing to never let him go.

"Yes, but that was before you asked me to marry you."

McLeod ran a finger over Methos nose. "And ye answer?"

"Let it be know that on December 25, 2003, Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod asked Methos of...well, I don't remember where, to marry him."

"And his answer?" McLeod prompted again.

"Let it also be know that on December 25, 2003, Methos, of some clan or another, agreed to marry Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod."

Duncan gave him a brilliant smile. "Aye?" He asked, eyes filling with tears.

"Aye."

McLeod kissed his love gently. "Oh, Methos."

He got a mischievous smile. "Do I get a ring?"

"You get a ring. A jewelry stores worth if you like."

Methos began unbuttoning McLeod's shirt. "Cool. Tomorrow?"

"Today if you like."

Lips nuzzled at his chest. "Today is Christmas Day. Everything is closed."

"Hmm. I'll get them open just for you."

Methos looked up, eyes twinkling merrily. "Really?"

"Aye."

"You'll marry me today?"

"Aye."

"That's nice."

"Aye."

"Can I have my wicked way with you first, before we go find someone to marry us?"

Hands began to undo his pants. "Aye. By all means. The wickeder the better. Just remember not to take to long or we'll miss our wedding day."

"I'll bare that in mind." Methos told him as lips followed hands. "After all we wouldn't want to miss the most important day of our lives."

"I love you, Methos and this is for ever."

Methos gave him a smile as brilliant as a thousand suns. "I know. I love you, too."