This is rated NC-17 for explicit hetero sex. If you're offended by such sexual situations, go no further; and if you're looking for a plot, try a good mystery novel. This is pure and simple Methos gratuity. :)

Methos is the property of Davis/Panzer, Rysher, et al, and he'll have plenty of fun while I have him. MacLeod is also their property, but he's not my major concern. Rebecca is the property of no-one but herself, except for my half of the brain.

Lyrics to "Sex and Candy" by Marcy Playground are used without permission. I make no profit from this story. Please don't repost, forward or publish without my express permission. ::deep breath:: All the pleasantries accounted for?? Onward!

feedback is welcome

Next came the brisk knocking at the door to my apartment. Crap.

Rebecca, my roommate, looked askance at me. I was closer to the door, and hadn't moved. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"No," I chirped, lighting a cigarette.

The knocking turned to banging.

Sighing, Rebecca rose and opened the door.

"Beanie, we have to talk." Methos pushed past Rebecca and stood in front of me, hands on his hips.

"Beanie?" Rebecca repeated incredulously.

"Out," I ordered. This was not the time to explain my childhood nickname, nor how Methos had found it out. Smirking, she left the room.

"All right. What's the problem?"

Methos flopped down on the couch. "I want some action."

My eyebrows nearly shot off my forehead. "You have got to be joking. You've had plenty of action lately!"

He snorted. "Oh, yeah. An ongoing slash series, that slash novella that I can see drafts of littering your bedroom floor from here... then you put me in a story with not one but THREE hot chicks, and there's not even a tongue in sight. Sometimes, Beanie, a man just wants..." He paused dramatically, scratching his slightly stubbly chin, turning to look me in the eye. "Don't make me say the 'p' word."

"Are you finished?" I ground out my cigarette. Quitting was just NOT going well. "What exactly do you want, in 50 words or less?"

"Hook me up with Charlie again."

"The librarian from San Francisco?"

"No, Charlie De Salvo." At my horrified look he snapped, "OF COURSE I mean Charlie-the-librarian-from-San-Francisco!" He paused, eyes gleaming. "Preferably in those cutoffs again."

"Hmmph," I said.

"Look, Beanie, I haven't anything left to blackmail, bribe, or threaten you with. I throw myself at your mercy."

I eyeballed him sternly. "Mercy you won't find here. But I will write your story, on one condition."

"Name it, and it's yours."

"You may never EVER call me 'Beanie' again."

He sighed, acquiescing. "All right. It's a deal."

Methos threw his ringing alarm clock across the room and sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes. Ordinarily he'd see no point in heading up to campus at the absolutely god-awful hour of 9 am. In this case, however, it was necessary to his survival. If he did not have the exams graded for his 3 o'clock lecture, his students would tear him limb from limb. It was only fair, he supposed. The exam in question had taken place almost three weeks ago.

A quick shower, and some clothes. He carelessly threw on A&F khakis, a black tee shirt, and green sweater, then stuffed his feet into his boots and brushed his teeth. Where the hell is my knapsack? He tripped over it a moment later. Damn. This was shaping up to be a day from hell.

Methos was in a royal mood by the time he arrived at the university around ten-thirty. He'd gotten stuck in traffic about a block from his building, and there had been no outlet from the gridlock. The students whose papers he was supposed to be grading had best be prepared for unforgiving criticism. The old man was in no state to be generous.

The elevator was out of order. The final insult. He trudged up the seven flights to his office, muttering descriptive curses all the way. Maybe there would be a computer crash and fire and the horror would be complete.

Reaching the seventh floor at last, he collected his mail and fumbled for his keys. But when he pushed the key into the lock, his office door swung open.

"Good morning, Doctor." The woman in his chair with her feet on his desk smiled brilliantly. "I see you defended your thesis adequately."

Methos shut the door behind him, trying to keep a dorky grin from appearing on his face. "Good heavens," he breathed. "My favourite librarian."

Charlie Burke, late of the Bay Area Archives (Special Collections Department), crossed her ankles and stuck a lollipop in her mouth. "It's nice to see you, too."

"I'm overwhelmed," he admitted, dropping onto a chair. He surveyed his guest. She looked much like she had nearly a year before -- masses of auburn curls, freckles spattered across her nose and cheekbones, long tanned legs ending in running shoes. She wore cutoffs similar to ones he'd last seen her in (or out of, truth be told) and a San Francisco Symphony tee shirt.

"You look good," Charlie said.

"You do too..." Methos replied, fighting off a blush. "What brings you to Seacouver?"

"Ah." She took out her lollipop with a slurping sound and grinned. "Librarian's symposium type-thing. I'm skipping an excruciatingly boring lecture on LC filing right now."

Methos laughed. "I've promised my students that their exams would be done by three, and I've not even started."

"Let's avoid responsibility together, then." Charlie slurped the lollipop back into her mouth. "What have you been up to?"

"School, work..." He shrugged. "You?"

"Work, work..." She mirrored his shrug. Slurp. "I'm about ready for some play." Her green eyes danced. "Feel like playing, Adam?"

Oh dear god... He bit off a groan and stood abruptly. "Come here, Charlie."

She smirked. Slurp. "No." Slurp.

The lollipop was definitely an interesting prop, and the sucking sound sent a jolt of electricity straight to his crotch. She surveyed him with laughing eyes.

"Problem?"

"You're in my chair," he growled.

Slurp. "Move me."

With a deeper growl Methos launched himself at her, knocking her feet off the desk. He grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet, slamming her against the wall. "Gimme that," he snarled, grabbing the lollipop stick and pulling.

She bit down, her eyes grew brighter. She shook her head. "Uh-uh."

He pulled again on the stick, simultaneously pressing his hips to hers. Her back arched automatically. "Open your mouth," he said silkily, "and give me the lollipop."

She shook her head again, and he pressed harder, letting her feel his erection through their clothing. Her eyes widened, but she did not let go.

"Come on, Charlie," he purred. "I haven't seen you in almost a year, can't you play nice?"

In answer she crunched down on the candy in her mouth, chewing methodically. Then she spit the stick daintily away, and it fell unnoticed to the floor. Methos captured her mouth with his own, reveling in the taste of grape candy on her tongue. She kissed him back hungrily, pulling him more firmly against her. He pulled back only long enough to breathe, then kissed her again, harder, hands sliding up under her tee shirt.

"Adam," she gasped.

"What?" He lifted his head, looking into her face.

"Um..." She blushed spectacularly. "Could we go... I mean, somewhere..."

It dawned on him suddenly that their previous encounter had taken place on her office worktable; now it appeared that they'd be going 0 and 2 and doing it on his office floor. He quickly calculated the time it would take to reach his Bayside apartment, traffic snarl considered, and came up with too damned long. But MacLeod was in New York 'til tomorrow, and the loft was much closer...

He leaned in for another bruising kiss, and then grabbed her hand. "Come on."

They bounded down the seven flights of stairs, and Charlie stole a kiss while he fumbled with his car keys. Methos broke every traffic law he could to get to the loft, and made it in a record five minutes. More making out like teenagers in the elevator (thank the powers that be that the dojo was closed while Mac was out of town) and then...

"Your place?" Charlie inquired, busily yanking his sweater over his head.

"A friend's. It had the...mmm... advantage of proximity."

"Of course." She peeled off his tee shirt next. "Kiss me."

He willingly met her request, scooping her up in his arms to carry her back to MacLeod's bed. Forgive me, my friend, he thought quickly. I'll wash the sheets and buy you dinner.

Charlie cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth back to hers, nimble fingers descending upon the fly of his khakis. He meantime unbuttoned her shorts and was gratified to find that she still didn't affect underwear.

Her fingers were doing tantalizing things to his cock through the silk of his shorts, but necessity beckoned, and he removed her hands long enough to pull her shirt over her head. No bra this time, either. "Touch me again," he whispered huskily, nuzzling her neck. She moaned and reached back down, trying to push his pants down over his hips, He helped her, then kicked free of both his boots and the constricting material, settling comfortably between her legs.

He dropped burning kissed along her neck and collarbone, barely able to concentrate as she stroked his cock. She ran her palm up and down the length of it, then rubbed the head gently with her thumb in a distracting circular motion. When she raised her thumb, slick with his pre-come, to her lips and sucked it like the erstwhile lollipop, he almost passed out.

He swatted her hands away when she reached for his cock again, sliding down her body to nibble at her breasts. She wriggled under his hands, breath coming in short gasps, as he sucked and licked at each nipple 'til finally she cried out. Satisfied, he moved lower.

Ooh, the navel ring was new. He tugged at it experimentally with his teeth, and was rewarded with a rasping moan. "Sensitive?" he chuckled. She arched upward into his mouth in answer, pushing down on his head with her hands.

He tongued her navel some more, enjoying her response: soft moans and muted cries from the back of her throat. Lower, then, and we'll see what sort of sound that produces.

Charlie gasped at the first touch of his tongue to her clitoris. Smiling to himself, he worked the sensitive flesh roughly, biting here, licking there, sucking... He felt a tremour in her thighs as he plunged his tongue deep inside her and she cried out as her orgasm washed over her senses.

Back up now. Methos paused to suckle her breasts, to nibble at her neck, then dipped down for a breathless kiss. She arched upwards, her hands on his ass, wriggling under his touch. "Come on now," she whispered raggedly. "Don't make me beg for it."

An animal sound escaped his throat as her words hit him, the force of wanting her making his cock jump. He slid slowly into her, then had to clutch at her shoulders to regain control. Oh yes. Hot wet flesh surrounded him, she wriggled and moaned at his every movement. He felt like God when he was inside her.

"Adam...":

"Charlie, I..."

"Harder."

Oh, yes, harder I can do. Her head raised off the pillow with every thrust, her nails were digging into his back and it felt so good... so right at she hissed his name and begged him to fuck her harder. She came again, practically screaming; again, biting his shoulder and finally, oh yes, this more pleasure than any one man deserves.... Methos' world contracted, a single sensation drowning out all others, eliminating all thought. He thrust once more and collapsed, sweat-soaked, head on her breast.

Minutes passed, who knew how many? He levered off and out of her, rolling onto his back. The ceiling was spinning.

"Adam." She reached over, stroking his chest lightly. "That... made waiting a year worth it."

"Indeed," he agreed with a chuckle. "Come here."

Obediently she rolled on top of him, kissing him tenderly. "Do you suppose," she continued, "we should maybe do this more often?"

Methos chuckled again. "Mmm," he agreed, running his fingers up and down her back. "There's a... position opening up at the university."

Charlie lifted her head from his shoulder, looking at him speculatively. "Really."

"The head librarian at the research library is retiring... I thought of you when I heard about it."

"I see." Charlie rolled back off him, propping her head up on her hand. "Are you saying you'd want me around?"

"Well, yeah." He hitched himself up, leaning back on his elbows. "I know we don't know each other well..."

"Hardly at all," she interjected.

"But we seem to have a certain... chemistry..."

"I'll say."

"...and we have a lot in common..."

"Adam."

"What?"

Charlie smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'll apply. The rest is up to them."

"Wonderful." Methos pulled her back to him, capturing her lips with his.

Charlie smiled against his mouth, running her hands down his sides. "Do you want to... mmm... try another chemistry experiment... ah... right now?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He flipped her over, grinning wickedly. He licked her collarbone gently, making her squirm, then began licking slowly lower, lower...

"Crap." Methos lifted his head suddenly, looking wildly around. His sword was in the fucking truck...

"What?" Charlie's face grew concerned.

"I heard something..."

As if on cue, the sound of the elevator gears grew louder, and Methos scrambled off the bed, grabbing for his pants. Charlie's eyes widened, and she snatched up a pillow to hold in front of her just as the elevator grille clanged up.

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod took his hand off his sword hilt and dropped his suitcase on the floor. Methos was crouched on the floor by the bed, a pair of pants in his hands, an expression that could only be described as "deer in headlights" on his face. On the bed reposed a lovely young woman, auburn curls tangled and sweaty, her modesty only protected by a pillow.

"Ah... Adam?"

"Yeah, MacLeod... you're home early." Methos held his position on the floor, panic etched on his features.

"Who's your friend?" Duncan asked conversationally.

"Charlie Burke," she offered. "I'd get up and shake your hand, but I seem to be suffering from a case of extreme nudity."

MacLeod began to laugh, gasping for breath between guffaws, holding onto the frame of the elevator grille for support. "I'm going to step out," he said finally. "Get dressed, and then, Adam... explain."

It was a good deal, and he took it. Explanations, once offered, were accepted with some more chortling and an invitation to dinner. Methos doubted he'd live this one down for some time...

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