That was the real beginning of their relationship in Duncan's mind. They started to venture outside the apartment slowly. At first they went everywhere together; it soothed both of their nerves to do so.

They went out to the grocery store and a coffee shop and then, finally in Duncan's opinion, they went to Joe's bar. Methos was noticeably uncomfortable around the mortal and it infuriated the ancient man. Joe was one of the most understanding persons Methos had ever met and he had always enjoyed the blues man's company even after he was revealed as the legendary oldest man. But he hated that Joe had seen what had occurred at the warehouse, hated the knowing look in the other man's eyes.

But he liked Joe, liked the mortal enough that he didn't want to just run away. So he persevered.

Duncan was pleased, pleased that his lover was trying, that he wasn't running away, that after five thousand years of life and loss that Methos could still be moved by friendship…and love.

And Methos became more and more independent again, going off on his own to the library and book stores and such. But they continued to live together. Duncan didn't ask Methos to move in and Methos didn't mention leaving. It was an unspoken arrangement, better that way, without promises.

Duncan didn't touch Methos in public, assuming that public displays of affection would be too far, too much for the ancient man. No in public, Duncan just stood protectively close, close enough for anyone paying attention to know that they were together. Joe never spoke about the change in their relationship to Methos, but he did acknowledge it. The mortal would talk, acknowledging that he knew they would always leave together, that they could both be reached at the loft, that both men were unavailable to any other interested parties.

In private, however, Duncan made a point to be near Methos and to touch him. He tried not to smother the other man, tried not to hover. He thought he was succeeding. When they were both reading in the evenings, he would sit by his lover on the couch instead of sitting in his chair.

Duncan would often stroke his hand along the back of the other man's neck then. In the car, he would rest his hand on Methos' thigh or stroke his fingers over the other man's hand. He rubbed Methos' back when they fixed dinner in the kitchen and laid his arm over Methos when they were sleeping.

Methos got over his initial perturbation at the affection and it stopped being an issue. Methos didn't respond with his own touches or lean into Duncan, not yet at least.

That's what Duncan was thinking as they lay in bed together that night. Methos was on his left side, balancing his head on his hand and reading a book that lay on the bed. Duncan stroked his fingers up and down his lover's right arm and stared at Methos in the adoring way that only lovers can.

Duncan lay close, his bare chest just brushing against Methos' t-shirt clad back and his knees behind Methos' own bent legs. The younger immortal kept his hips back though, not wanting an accidental erection to startle his partner.

Methos had shifted a couple of times as if uncomfortable but Duncan had thought nothing of it. But then Duncan had leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the soft junction where jaw meets neck, in front of the man's ear.

The choked noise caught his attention and as Duncan lifted his head, he noticed the tent that had formed in the front of Methos' boxers. Methos had an erection.

For a moment, they both froze, unsure what to do, but Methos broke the moment by fleeing to the bathroom.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Methos stood in the small bathroom, clinging to the rim of the sink as if for dear life. He kept his head bowed, not wanting to look up into the mirror. He panted with the sudden adrenaline and tried to get his brain to function. The erection had long since faded under Methos' panic, but he feared the damage that had already been done.

How could he have gotten an erection?! They hadn't been doing anything, just laying there. Methos had become distracted from what he was reading, thinking about the feel of Duncan's fingers on him. They made him feel content, connected to Duncan and then that kiss…it had caused heat to pool in his belly, unfamiliar and yet known, desire…

But he wasn't ready! Duncan had said that they wouldn't…but Duncan would push now, think that he was just holding out, being selfish, demanding. And maybe he was ready, his body obviously thought so.

Duncan knocked resolutely on the door. Having overcome his own shock, he knew that he couldn't just leave Methos in the bathroom. He couldn't because he knew what the older immortal must be thinking.

He spoke, his voice loud enough to be heard through the door, "Methos, its ok. Being aroused physically doesn't mean that we're ready for anything more. I'm not going to do anything, nothing's going to change. But it's a good sign, Methos."

Methos didn't come out immediately. Duncan had resumed lying on their bed trying to appear relaxed to reaffirm his words that nothing had changed in their arrangement.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

When it happened again a week later, they were both more prepared. At first neither man moved. Methos continued reading and Duncan continued stroking his lover's arm. After a few moments with the erection undiminished, Methos got up and padded to the bathroom.

Duncan stayed on the bed this time, willing his own erection away, a skill he had had plenty of time to master lately. They didn't mention it at all that time, but Duncan snuggled a little closer to Methos that night.

Methos was waiting for it to happen the next night. Wearing his usual t-shirt and boxers, he laid down in bed, next to Duncan who wore only his briefs. The younger man smiled up at him as Methos placed his knee on the bed. Opening his arms, Duncan indicated that the ancient immortal should lie within them.

Duncan knew that this position made Methos the most uncomfortable, being held within the circle of brawny arms, however loose the embrace. As expected, Methos lay down gingerly, but this time it was as much with anticipation as dread.

It didn't take long. Cradled in Duncan's heat, it only took a few strokes of Duncan's hand along his back for the desire to resurface. This time they were facing one another and Methos lifted his face from Duncan's warm shoulder to look into the dark brown eyes.

"Duncan, I…"

Methos couldn't continue, he didn't know what to say, how to express that he wanted Duncan to touch him, to pleasure him. The ancient man wanted those soothing touches lower on his body…

Fortunately Duncan understood his half-finished plea. The Scotsman understood how afraid Methos was, afraid to ask for something that had hurt him so many times in the past, afraid to need someone else.

"You want me to touch you?" Duncan asked, his hand already sliding over Methos' hip.

His breathing already harsh, Methos nodded his assent. Duncan kept his left arm under his lover's neck, holding Methos against his body, while his right arm was busy, pulling the other man's boxers down.

Duncan stroked Methos' length, light at first, lighter than he knew Methos must want.

"Tell me, tell me how it feels, tell me what you want."

"Good, (pant, pant), it feels good, Duncan. Unh, harder."

Duncan stroked harder then as requested. It was the first time that he had really heard passion in his lover's voice.

A thick thumb flicked over the head on the upstroke. "Do you like that?"

Methos only nodded, biting his fuller bottom lip, preventing words. But Duncan wanted, needed…

"Tell me."

Lean hips bucked hard as Methos sought to push more of his length through Duncan's fist. "God! Harder. The tip…"

Duncan shortened his strokes to concentrate on head of Methos' penis, his thumb pressing hard into the sensitive underside there. Methos was lost, his only other sounds being whimpers and pants.

And then Methos came, his head thrown back and his hips jerking as Duncan had never seen him, leaving the ancient man heaving and boneless in his lover's arms. After several deep breaths, Methos made a move to get up but Duncan stopped him.

The younger immortal hadn't wanted to let the other man up, didn't want to let go. He used the edge of the sheet to clean Methos up, but he could feel the sudden tension in the lean muscles. And he thought he knew why long before a slender hand reached toward his own boxers.

"Don't. Just lie here with me."

Methos immediately acquiesced, not understanding but wanting to please Duncan, whatever his lover wanted. But Duncan just lay there, still cradling him and slowly stroking.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Duncan waited, listening as Methos' breath evened out in sleep. He had kept his hips back, but his erection was insistent and he slipped his arm out from under his lover and slipped to the bathroom.

He dropped his briefs and stood in the shower, not wanting to turn on the water and wake the older immortal from the soundest sleep Methos had had in quite a while.

Quickly he began to stroke, hard and fast, wanting to hurry and climb back into bed with the other immortal. But in his mind, he kept replaying that evening's events: the look in Methos' green eyes when he first spoke, the feel of the other man's cock, hot and silky in his hand, the look on Methos' face, that concentration that caused a furrow between the man's closed eyes, and his lover's lips, wet and pink and parted, letting out the most erotic soft moans and harsh pants and needy whimpers.

That memory was the stuff of many masturbatory fantasies to come.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The next morning was sweet. Duncan woke early but stayed in bed, not wanting to leave the warm bed and the soft comfort of Methos' lean form pressed against him. They didn't speak of it when Methos finally got out and came to breakfast, but Duncan knew that the ancient man was fretting over what had occurred. The Scotsman could see it written across Methos' features.

And Methos was thinking about it, wondering what it meant, what would happen now. He wondered what he wanted to happen now.

It had been amazing. For once sex had not been about power or pain or humiliation or duty. What had happened last night had been about pleasure and giving and love. Methos had let himself really feel, be in the moment and give up a little control. And in giving up control, he opened himself up to greater pain. Did he have that much hope left? That much trust?

Methos had been heading toward the stairs, leaving Duncan to do some bills at his desk, when an odd thought occurred to him that stopped him. He couldn't remember the last time that he and Duncan had really kissed.

Duncan had jerked him off last night, but they had not kissed on the lips since the warehouse. Somehow kissing seemed so much more intimate and more…deliberate.

Methos walked over to stand beside his lover.

"Duncan," his voice was a soft, just above a whisper but determined nonetheless.

The Highlander had been looking up as soon as he had noticed Methos turn away from the door. He knew from the insistent tone of his lover's voice that whatever it was it was important and he stood.

Methos gently and slowly cupped Duncan's face between his hands and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips were both dry and it was a simply a gentle press, but it was a start. Methos parted his lips, bringing up his tongue to lightly trace Duncan's top lip before kissing the other man harder.

Duncan brought up his own arms to encircle his partner's tiny waist, his motions slow, allowing Methos time to object. But Methos didn't object and Duncan began to participate more fully, less afraid of scaring the other man.

When they finally parted, Duncan looked at Methos to see a mirror of his own smile on his lover's face. A smile that reached the green eyes, causing them to sparkle with too-rare mirth.

Duncan's right arm moved up Methos' back, guiding the lean man's chest to lean against his own. Methos was only too happy to oblige, feeling almost giddy, like he had climbed a great mountain as he bent his head to the crook of Duncan's shoulder.

They stood like that for a moment, before Duncan kissed Methos' temple and pulled back. The younger man took his partner's slender fingers in his own, leading the way back to the door, both men still sporting irrepressible grins.

"Ya know? The bills can wait…let's go get a beer."

"That sounds like a plan." Duncan watched a flush spread across Methos' sharp features. The ancient man looked shy, and it was adorable.

TBC