~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 21~
After Buffy cleaned Giles' head wound, he cleaned her cuts, paying special attention to the lacerations on her arm. Despite Slayer healing, there was no sense courting an infection. Xander checked Anya over for cuts and gently ran his thumb over the bruises that adorned her throat. Willow sat on the couch while Spike examined her ankle. When he was done, he cleaned most of the green demon blood off her face and neck.
Duncan and Methos were both leaning against the pommel horse, their arms crossed over their chest, shoulders touching. When Giles was finished with her, Buffy walked over to the two Immortals. "What about you guys?" she asked when she stood in front of them with a handful of alcohol wipes.
"We're fine," Duncan said.
"No way!" Buffy cried. "Look at all that blood!" She pointed at Methos' shirt, and before either man could stop her, reached out and lifted it. "Holy... Giles, look at this!" she called to her Watcher without taking her eyes off of Methos' side. "He's completely healed," she said in wonder when Giles stood beside her.
"Do you *always* heal this quickly?" Giles asked, fascinated. The wound Adam had sustained in the old school was nothing like the shallow cut to his hand Giles had seen heal previously.
"Yes," Methos replied shortly, a light blush suffusing his skin. He was partly embarrassed at being ogled and still wary about sharing their secrets with mortals. "From death, also," he added, just to have something to say, as he tried to push his shirt down. Duncan just grinned at his discomfort.
"Wow," Buffy breathed thoughtfully. Hearing about their healing abilities was so different than seeing it in action. "I died once. Don't want to try it again though." She gave a small smile as she dropped the shirt and stepped back.
"Yeah, that hurts a little," Methos mumbled.
Buffy's gaze caught the pile of weapons, theirs and the ones they'd recovered from the demons. "Oh, crap," she sighed. "We still have to clean the weapons."
"Yes, unless you want to throw them all out and buy new," Giles agreed with a hint of sarcasm.
"Sarcasm is not necessary, Giles," Buffy renewed a long-standing discussion.
Each of the Scoobies grabbed a weapon, a cloth, and cleaning oil, and began to clean the weapons. Duncan and Methos cleaned their swords and Methos' dagger, and then assisted in the cleaning of the weapons they'd 'confiscated'.
Duncan found himself seated beside Buffy. "How do you do it?" he asked. Buffy tilted her head at him as she continued to clean the axe she held.
"Do what?" she asked.
"Fight, day-in and day-out, and manage to win every time. To save everyone." His thoughts drifted to Richie.
"Oh." Buffy gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, we fight because we have to. This is our home, and our, well, *my* job. My 'sacred duty'." She rolled her eyes as she said it. "Did Giles give you the speech? 'Cause he loves to do that."
"Yeah, he did." Duncan smiled at her.
"It's Giles' job, too, but he signed up for it..."
"Ponce," Spike mumbled.
"Be nice," Willow hissed under her breath.
"Willow and Xander...they found out about vampires and other demons when they were 15 years old. They had no superpowers, no Slayer healing, but that didn't stop them from wanting to help."
"But Willow's a witch, right?" Methos questioned, though it hadn't looked like he was paying them any attention.
"She is now; wasn't then," Buffy explained. "Just a little 15 year old human girl."
"Still little," Spike muttered, as he cleaned gore off a spiked mace.
"Hey!" Willow tapped him with the hilt of the sword she was cleaning.
"Unfortunately, however, we don't save everyone. Tonight we were lucky; no one was seriously injured. But we lose people. Some friends, some acquaintances, some strangers. Not everyone makes it."
"Jesse," Xander said sadly, and he and Willow shared a look in memory of their friend.
"And Miss Calendar," Willow added softly, peering at Giles through lowered lashes.
"Hard as we try," Buffy continued. "And much as we wish it were different, we can't save everyone. We save the ones we can, mourn the ones we didn't, and move on to the next battle. Because that's what it is. War. And as difficult as it is to accept, there are casualties." She gave a small, helpless shrugged.
"Do you accept it?" Duncan asked.
"I have to, we have to, or we'd go crazy thinking about the ones we didn't save. 'What if's'll tear you apart." Her smile was sad as she thought about Angel.
"How did you get to be so wise?" Methos asked, wondering if Duncan had heard, really *heard* anything the young girl had said. He glanced over at the Scot, who was staring unseeing at the weapon he was cleaning. As if he felt Methos' eyes on him, Duncan glanced up, brown eyes locking on hazel. Duncan gave him a small smile and nodded his head. Perhaps he did understand. And maybe now he could allow himself some peace. Finally.
Spike snorted. "You're talking about Buffy, right?" he asked.
"Spike," Willow said in a warning voice, and slapped the back of his head.
"Shut up, Spike," Buffy muttered.
"Oi! Watch it witch!" Spike growled playfully at her.
"Can we go home?" Anya asked. "I'm so tired I'm not even going to make Xander give me any orgasms before we go to sleep."
"Thank you, honey," Xander muttered, in a combination of gratitude and embarrassment.
***
When the weapons had all been cleaned and packed away in the trunk, the eight warriors turned out the lights in the backroom and headed for the front of the shop. They separated into the two cars. Giles dropped Duncan and Methos off at their hotel, and then dropped Buffy off at her mother's house instead of the dorm before heading to his own apartment. After tonight's battle, she wanted to go to sleep and wake up in the familiar surroundings of her own bedroom; to the comfort of having her mother near.
Xander and Anya dropped a blushing Willow and Spike off at Willow's parents' house. Her father was the guest speaker at a psychiatric seminar in Munich. Before that, he had been lecturing at a University in England. Her parents were often out of town, and the house usually stood empty. Until tonight.
"You all right with this?" Spike asked, watching Willow's hand shake as she tried to insert the key into the lock.
"Yes." Willow nodded, blushing again.
Spike leaned against the house and looked around them. "Almost dawn," he commented. "Sun'll be up soon."
"That's not helping," Willow replied, as she struggled with the key.
"What? Oh, sorry. Here." Spike gently pushed her hands out of the way. "Let me get it." He turned the key, and then twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.
"Thanks," Willow said a little breathlessly, as she stepped through the open doorway and flipped on the light in the entry. "C-come in, Spike," she stammered, turning to watch the vampire walk through the doorway as the invisible barrier dissolved.
Willow set her book bag on the floor and took her jacket off as Spike pushed the door closed and made sure it was locked. "You, uh, wanna take your duster off?" she asked.
Spike shrugged out of the duster and hung it up beside Willow's coat. They stared at each other for a moment before Willow nervously pointed down the hallway towards the kitchen. "Want a drink...or anything?" she asked.
Spike shook his head 'no', afraid that if he spoke he'd startle her. He held his hand out and Willow stared at it, and then slowly extended her own hand, placing it in his. "Upstairs?" he asked, and Willow nodded.
Spike pulled her towards him and leaned down to place a gentle, reassuring kiss on her lips before urging her up the stairs ahead of him. Willow grabbed the banister for support as she squeezed Spike's hand. When they reached the top of the stairs, Willow turned off the light and led him into her bedroom, their path lit by the faint illumination provided by the lightening sky.
Willow made sure the drapes were pulled across the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, and then turned to Spike. She reached out to run her hand over the jagged tear in the t-shirt, then lifted it up so she could run her fingers over the newly healed skin covering his chest and stomach.
"I was scared," she said. "When the demon cut you." Now that they were safely home and alone, she allowed a tear of relief to fall from her eye.
"Aw, Red, don't cry, luv." Spike wiped the tear off her cheek with his thumb and pulled her into his arms. Willow lay her head on Spike's chest and let him comfort her.
"This isn't exactly what you had in mind for tonight, is it?" she asked softly, her voice still a little shaky from unshed tears.
"Being with you is exactly what I had in mind," Spike assured her. "Just being with you is good."
"I think I need a shower," Willow sniffled. She was covered in dust, and demon blood, and sweat. She must look quite a mess, and probably smelled pretty rank, too.
Spike perked up, and Willow felt the change in his posture. "Shower sounds good." She lifted her head to see him smirking down at her.
***
The moment they were inside the room, Duncan grabbed Methos by his lapels and pushed the older Immortal back against the closed door. He lowered his head and kissed the other man with a heat and desperate longing borne of surviving yet another battle. He hadn't taken a Quickening, but the surge of adrenaline from the fight, from the victory, still rushed through his body.
Methos gripped Duncan's shoulders and held on as the younger man plundered his mouth. It seemed that he had waited all of his 5000 years to find this man. That he could want Methos as much as Methos wanted him amazed him. Methos felt his body respond to Duncan's demanding touch.
Duncan ran his lips down to Methos' neck, where he nibbled and sucked as his hands moved the other man's shirt out of the way and explored the expanse of his stomach and chest, paying special attention to the side where he had been injured.
"What are you doing, MacLeod?" Methos shivered as the twin sensations of Duncan's tongue at his neck and light touch at his side tickled. "You got a thing for doors I should know about?"
"Just making sure you're still in one piece, Methos." Duncan lifted his head and smiled at Methos.
"Oh," Methos replied breathlessly, his face a little flushed, lips a little swollen. "Well, I am in a bit of pain, actually."
"Where?" Duncan asked immediately, all thoughts of kissing and teasing banished.
"Right...here." Methos placed Duncan's hand over his straining erection, and Duncan felt his own cock jump in response.
"I told you," Duncan began, as he practically tore the button off Methos' jeans. "I'm not a doctor." He unzipped the jeans and shoved them aside. "But I'll see what I can do." Before Methos could read his intentions, Duncan had dropped to his knees and was tenderly stroking Methos' flesh, and then he took him into his mouth.
Methos groaned aloud and grabbed Duncan's head as the other man moved his mouth up and down Methos' cock, his hand between Methos' legs fondling his heavy sac. Suddenly, Duncan let go of him and stood up. "Better?" he asked solicitously.
"No," Methos ground out. "In fact, I think you've made it worse."
"Oh," Duncan replied thoughtfully, as if he hadn't expected that answer. He studied Methos' erection, and then looked into the other man's darkened eyes. "Maybe you just need to lie down." And then he grinned.
"I think I'll need help getting there," Methos grinned back. "I am injured, and your elder, after all."
"Don't worry, Old Man," Duncan breathed, as he slid Methos' coat off his shoulders. "I plan on helping."
~Part: 22~
Spike made sure that Willow's hair was thoroughly wet before squeezing
some shampoo into his hands and working it into a lather. He sniffed the
shampoo before applying it to her hair. Peppermint; his eyes began to water
from breathing in too deeply.
Willow moaned as he worked the lather through her hair and massaged
her scalp. "You don't have to do this, you know," she said.
"Know I don't have to," he replied absently. "Want to. Used to wash...," he cut off.
"What?" Willow asked.
"Nothing, luv." He shook his head and paid rapt attention to the suds in her hair.
"Spike, it's something. Now tell me," Willow insisted.
"I used to wash Dru's hair," he said without looking at her.
"Must be why you're so good," Willow replied with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You've had practice. Hey! Over one hundred years of practice! You can wash my hair every day, if you want," she added, putting a hand out to the wall to hold herself up as she began to sway, her body relaxing at his touch. "Oh, did you paint her nails, too?"
"Why?" Spike asked warily, as he rinsed her hair.
"'Cause they looked really nice, and I figured you could do mine, if you wanted," she sleepily explained her reasoning.
"You want me to paint your nails?" Spike asked, his eyes wide.
"Not tonight," Willow assured him with a wave of her hand. "Or even tomorrow. Just...sometime. If you want." She was so relaxed she slurred her words and Spike might have thought she was drunk if he didn't know better.
"Do I get to suck on your toes?" Spike asked near her ear. Willow froze.
"My toes are ticklish," she squeaked.
"Even better." His voice was husky as he ran soap slicked hands over her shoulders and down her arms, and Willow shivered.
***
Duncan and Methos were standing beside the bed, naked except for their jeans, the rest of their clothes strewn in a path behind them that led back to the door. Duncan ran his hands over Methos' chest, his thumbs skimming over the older Immortal's nipples, and down to his stomach. He trailed his fingers over Methos' abdominals, watching them jump at the light, teasing touch.
Methos would have complained, but he was too busy exploring Duncan's body, his hands tracing a path down Duncan's back. He closed his eyes, a picture of Duncan's back, flesh, and muscle and bone, filling his mind as he memorized the feel of him with his fingertips. He pressed his fingers into Duncan's lower back, and then slipped them beneath the waistband of his jeans.
He cupped Duncan's ass and pulled Duncan against him, their groins pressing together, their erections trapped between them. "Methos," Duncan gasped, as he let his forehead fall onto the other man's shoulder, his fingers gripping the other man's arms. "Oh, God, Methos, I need to feel you inside me." His pleading voice was hoarse with desire.
Methos closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, the sound of Duncan's deep voice pleading, and the thought of sliding inside the other man's tight heat, almost his undoing. With one hand on Duncan's ass, Methos lifted his other hand to Duncan's chin, lifting his face to Methos' own. He placed soft, gentle kisses on Duncan's eyes, his cheeks, and finally his lips, as both hands moved to the waistband of Duncan's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, and sliding them and his boxers down his hips.
Methos pulled slightly away and then backed Duncan up to the bed. Duncan sat and Methos removed his jeans and boxers, tossing them to the side, and then turned away and went into the bathroom. He returned with a small bottle of complimentary lotion and tossed it on the bed before stopping in front of Duncan and slowly, sensuously sliding his own jeans and boxers down his hips and long, lean legs.
Duncan watched him hungrily. Methos put one hand on Duncan's shoulder and pushed him down onto his back, as he placed one knee and then the other on either side of Duncan's hips. "Slide up, Duncan," Methos whispered, laving a nipple before it moved out of his reach as Duncan obeyed.
***
Spike pressed one knee into the mattress as he laid Willow upon the bed. Water droplets covered her skin like morning dew, and Spike trailed his fingers through them, marking a path from her collar bone to her navel.
"Spike." Willow's voice was breathless. He'd teased her as he cleansed her, and her tiredness had been washed away with the soap suds.
Spike glanced at her flushed face, and watched the blood rise to the surface of the normally pale skin covering her body. He could hear the blood racing through her veins with each beat of her pounding heart; hear each ragged breath she took. He lowered his head to her chest and took a breast into his mouth, one hand curled over her hip, the other buried in her wet hair.
Willow arched off the bed at the touch of his cool tongue on her heated flesh. A benefit to sleeping with a vampire that she hadn't realized, she thought, and almost laughed, until he let most of her breast slip from his mouth to suck hard on her nipple as he ran his tongue over it.
"Spike!" Willow hissed. Her back bowed, and she pressed her thighs together as she dug her fingers into the bed. Spike moved his attentions to her other breast, subjecting it to the same treatment. When Willow was nearly incoherent, Spike moved up her body and licked her neck, then sucked on the sensitive spot over her pulse point, and gently bit down.
Willow ran her hand up the inside of Spike's thigh. She cupped his balls and gently squeezed, and shivered again when he growled softly against her neck. "Harder," he groaned into her ear, and Willow tightened her hold as he continued to rumble against her ear.
She felt his body shudder. "Touch me." He took her earlobe between his teeth, and then licked it. "Please, touch me."
Willow let go of the sac and ran her open palm up his shaft until she reached his head. She closed her fingers around him and traced her thumb over the tip and through the precum oozing from the slit. Spike tilted her head back and kissed her roughly as she started moving her hand up and down his length.
He pulled away from her and pushed her hand away from his cock, then crawled between her legs. Willow began to mewl in anticipation as Spike spread her thighs and pushed her legs up, and then his tongue was on her, in her. Willow pressed her heels into the mattress and gripped the sheet with one hand, as she clutched Spike's hair with the other and lifted her hips against his face.
Spike licked and sucked at her most sensitive flesh, slipping his tongue between her folds, stroking the hidden bundle of nerves, bringing her to the edge and then pulling her back, until she was begging him to let her come. He rose up over her, positioned his head at her entrance, and bit his lower lip as he slowly slid into her.
Willow grabbed his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips, taking him all the way into her, crying out as he filled her. Spike growled; morphing as her tight, wet heat surrounded him. Willow ran her fingers over his ridges, and Spike buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her as he drove into her.
Willow tightened her thighs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust as he slammed into her. Her nails dug into Spike's back as her muscles started to tense. She arched her neck, and Spike sucked on the offering. Willow cried out as her orgasm ripped through her body. Spike let go of her neck and roared her name as Willow's muscles clenched around him, milking him, and then he exploded into her.
Spike carefully lowered himself onto Willow. They lay silent; Willow's harsh breathing, and her pulse pounding in her ears, the only sounds, their bodies still quaking in the aftermath as they recovered from their climaxes. Finally Willow recovered enough to speak.
"Blanket," she said. Spike didn't move. "Need blanket. You may make a nice snuggle bunny, but you're not gonna make me warm... Well!" She gave a breathless laugh. "Unless you do what you just did again, but that might kill me, so maybe not." She frowned.
Spike lifted his head and looked down at her serious face. With a grin, he pulled out of her and rolled them both to the side, pulling the blankets down behind her. He rolled them back over, and pulled the blankets on the other side of the bed down, and then shifted their legs beneath them.
Willow giggled as Spike pulled her against him, and she rested her head on his chest. "That was nice," she said, her finger tracing a pattern on his chest.
"*Nice*?" Spike raised an eyebrow.
Willow smiled, and he could practically hear her blushing. "Very nice," she amended.
***
Duncan slid up the bed and reclined against the pillows. He watched Methos' dark head lower as the other man licked and sucked on the inside of his thigh, slowly working his way up. Duncan almost groaned aloud as Methos bypassed his hard, aching flesh, to concentrate on the soft, sensitive skin where hip met thigh.
Methos ran his tongue over Duncan's stomach, sucking on the skin around his navel, and then dipping inside. Duncan's hands grabbed both sides of Methos' head. He didn't try to stop him, or force him, just held onto him.
Methos moved up Duncan's body and stroked the flat of his tongue over Duncan's nipple, and then flicked it with the tip. Methos raised his eyes to Duncan's as he closed his teeth over the hard nub and worried it. Duncan groaned, and then ran his fingers through Methos' hair, cupping the back of his head.
The older Immortal lowered his hips until their erections were touching, and rubbed them together. "Methos," Duncan whispered his name just before Methos covered his lips and stole a kiss.
"Want to be inside you," Methos said. He pulled away from Duncan and sat up, the small bottle of lotion in his hand. He squeezed some lotion onto his fingers and Duncan spread his legs, drawing his knees up. Methos moved his hand to Duncan's most hidden place, and gently massaged the puckered hole with his thumb.
Methos slowly slid one finger inside Duncan, pushing it past the ring of muscle, twisting it to coat the tight passage with the lotion. He pulled the finger out and pressed in two, twisting his fingers to make sure Duncan was well lubricated, and then gently scissoring them to stretch him. He was so busy concentrating on opening Duncan to his touch, he didn't notice the other man pour lotion into his palm until he took Methos' cock in his hand.
Methos hissed in pleasure as Duncan moved his hand up and down Methos' length, coating his hard flesh with the lotion. Duncan let his nail graze the tip of Methos' penis, and paid special attention to the bundle of nerves below the ridge while Methos probed his body, reaching for the small nub that would rock Duncan.
Both men gasped in pleasure, but neither stopped their ministrations. Methos finally pushed Duncan's hands away from his cock. "If you don't stop, it's going to be over," he hissed out a breath.
Duncan reluctantly pulled his hand away from Methos and grabbed the other man's wrist. "You too, Methos," he growled. "I want you inside me when I come."
"My pleasure." Methos grinned as he carefully pulled his fingers out of Duncan. He lifted Duncan's hips and placed his head at the puckered entrance to the other man's body. He flexed his hips and pressed in, the ring of muscle closing tightly around him. He continued to push until he was completely sheathed in the other man's ass.
He stopped and looked up at Duncan, who was staring back at him, wide brown eyes slightly glazed with desire. "Methos," he pleaded, and Methos began to move his hips, pulling out of the other man, and then sliding back in. He felt himself spill some of his built-up semen into the other man, easing the friction.
Methos began to move more easily. He changed his angle until he found Duncan's prostate. Duncan grabbed the bed with one hand and his own cock with the other as Methos drove into him, hitting the gland with each thrust. He watched Duncan's face as wave after wave of pleasure wracked his body.
Shoving Duncan's hand aside, Methos lubricated Duncan's shaft with the precum weeping from the slit, then wrapped his fingers around it and slid his hand down the length of it, and then back up, his thumb pressing against the nerves below the ridge. Then Methos held onto Duncan's hip with one hand and thrust into him, riding his ass with the same rhythm he pumped his cock.
Duncan reached out for Methos, gripping the older Immortal's shoulder with one hand, the bed sheets with the other as he came. His cock jerked in Methos' grip, shooting his release over Methos' hand, his own chest and stomach, and the bed, and his muscles tightened around Methos' cock.
Duncan watched as Methos lifted his hand to his mouth and tasted Duncan, then lowered himself over the younger man and drove into him. He wrapped his arms around the older Immortal's shoulders and felt Methos' body still, and then his flesh pulsing inside him as Methos erupted, filling him with warm fluid.
When Methos was empty, his arms gave out and he fell onto Duncan's chest, his face beneath his chin. The other man let out an 'Oomph!', and then tightened his arms around him.
"Duncan," Methos softly spoke his name.
"Methos," Duncan replied.
"I've wanted that...so long...wanted you." Methos ran his hand over Duncan's shoulder, not wanting to stop touching him.
"You only had to say," Duncan whispered, one hand sliding into Methos' hair to press his face against him as he rested his chin on the dark head.
Methos snorted. "I could just see you running for the hills, Highlander!"
"Not running anywhere," Duncan promised.
"No," Methos sighed. "You're not."
"And you," Duncan asked softly. "Will you be running?"
Methos lifted his head and looked into Duncan's eyes. "Hmmph! You need someone to watch your back, MacLeod. And I think I'm just the man for the job." He laid his head back down. "Leave you alone for a minute and you get yourself into all sorts of trouble," Methos continued to grouse.
After several moments of silence, Duncan asked, "Was that my back, or my backside you were going to watch?"
"Kinda partial to both," Methos responded sleepily.
The End