We'll Always Have Paris...

Title: We'll Always Have Paris...Well, Seacouver, Anyway
Rating: NC-17
First in a series.
We'll Always Have Paris...Well, Seacouver, Anyway
by Macrich


Richie lay staring up at the dojo ceiling...again. Getting tossed around by Duncan MacLeod was becoming a way of life for the redhead. Once, just once, he'd like to knock the large Scot right on his butt.

 "Richie, you've got to keep your guard up. You let an opponent get in under your defenses like that and it could be fatal," Duncan was lecturing, as he offered the younger man a hand up. "Let's try it again."

 They assumed positions at either end of the mat in the center of the dojo floor and Richie moved forward swiftly, ducking Duncan's lunge and sliding around his left side to attack from the rear in a move the Highlander had used on him the previous day. A split second later he lay flat on his back again with the much larger Immortal sprawled across his chest, pinning him to the mat, their noses nearly touching.

 Richie laughed at his failed attempt to dump MacLeod, a light-hearted sound that echoed throughout the large room. Duncan's scowl changed to a smile and without thinking he lowered his lips to those of the young man beneath him. Richie's body tensed and Duncan broke away as if scalded, scrambling to his feet and putting a safe distance between them, cursing himself for a fool. Richie sat up as soon as he was clear, eyes wide in an otherwise pale face as he stared up at him in undisguised shock.  

Duncan struggled to find the words to explain. In four hundred years he'd never even come close to making such a fool of himself - not sober, at any rate. "I'm sorry, Richie. I...I didn't mean to do that," he said, stumbling over the apology, his eyes glued on the smoke-tinted windows.

 "It's okay, Mac," Richie tried to reassure him, though his own voice shook noticeably.  

"No. No, it's not," Duncan muttered, still refusing to face him. "I don't know why I did that."  

The silence stretched out then, neither of them speaking.  

"Maybe because I wanted you to," Richie said finally, so quietly that Duncan barely heard him, and abruptly jumped to his feet, hastily shoving his gear into his duffle bag.

 "What did you say?"  

Richie froze, but didn't turn. "Nothing." A moment later a hand came to rest on his shoulder and pulled him around gently. He locked his eyes on the front of Duncan's sweatshirt and kept them there.   

"Richie, I think we need to talk."   

Richie raised his gaze to Duncan's face then dropped it again self- consciously. "I want to take a shower, Mac," he hedged, hoping that Duncan would let it go, yet afraid that he'd do just that.   

A heavy sigh. "Okay...then afterwards. Come upstairs when you're through. Promise me, Rich," he added, loathe to release the young man without that vow.   

"Yeah...okay," Richie agreed, snatching up his things and making a beeline for the stairway to the showers.  

Richie spent far longer in the shower than was necessary, trying to get a grasp on just what had happened in the dojo. He rested his forehead against the cool tiles, letting the spray of warm water stream over his shoulders and back, silently kicking himself for blurting out his feelings as he had. It was too late now, and Mac was undoubtedly waiting for him. That thought wasn't exactly reassuring in his current state of confusion. If he waited much longer, MacLeod might just seek him out here. That possibility spurred him to action. He quickly left the showers, dried off and dressed, rubbing a towel hastily over his hair before taking the inner stairway to the loft.   

Duncan was in the kitchen when he walked in, his still-damp hair hanging loose around his shoulders. "I thought maybe you left," he said, with a relieved smile.   


"You thirsty? I've got apple juice in the fridge," Duncan offered.   

"What, no food?"   

"Richie, we ate dinner less than two hours ago. I swear sometimes I think you're a bottomless pit," Duncan retorted, shaking his head fondly at the young man.   

"Got any soda?"   

"I don't keep that stuff around, Richie, you know that. Besides, it's full of chemicals," Duncan lectured. "Not to mention huge amounts of sugar." He stopped when he noticed the grin Richie was wearing. "What?"   

"You sound just like Tessa." Richie regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do right now was remind MacLeod of the love of his life.  

Duncan laughed softly, feeling a twinge in the region of his heart. "Yeah, I guess I do," he admitted with a wry smile. "She did like to nag at you to eat right, didn't she? Sorry."  

 "It's okay. I kinda miss it," Richie admitted.   

They locked gazes for a long moment, the younger Immortal breaking away first. "I know there's some soda in there somewhere," Richie announced, brushing past Duncan to open the refrigerator. "I brought a six-pack over last time I was here, and I know you didn't drink it."   

The ruse didn't work, Duncan had waited long enough. He placed a hand on Richie's arm and drew him to the side, closing the refrigerator door and pressing him back against it.   

"Did you mean what you said downstairs?"   

Richie ducked his head away from the piercing stare, but Duncan gently raised it again with a hand under his chin. "Did you?" he asked again.   

Richie swallowed convulsively and slowly nodded, unable or unwilling to break eye-contact with the Scot.   

"Say it," Duncan commanded, gripping his chin firmly.   

"I...I wanted you to," Richie intoned obediently and somewhat timidly.   

A small, tremulous smile broke over Duncan's face and he seemed to breathe for the first time since Richie walked in. He knew the words hadn't come easily. His hands came up on either side of the young man, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Thank you," he whispered into the redhead's ear, holding him until he felt Richie relax and return the embrace, before releasing him.   

"Mac, is...is this just a sex thing?" Richie asked bluntly, worrying his lower lip. "I mean, I understand if it is, but--"   

 "No," Duncan interrupted, giving the young man a slight shake. "I want you, I won't deny that. But I want more than you in my bed, I want you in my life."  "I am in your life, Mac," Richie reasoned, blushing at the other man's words. "Sometimes I thought you wished I wasn't."   

"Richie, you can make me crazier than anyone I know, including Amanda," Duncan conceded with a laugh. "But that's because I love you, and you're not always as cautious as you should be. You're Immortal, not indestructible."  

Richie's stomach had plummeted to the vicinity of the floor during Duncan's little lecture. "You love me?" he asked, focusing on the important issue in the modest rebuke.   

He sounded genuinely shocked by the possibility and Duncan shook him again. "Is that so hard to believe?" He could see from Richie's expression that it was, and shook his head in mild exasperation. "Richie, I've loved you for a long time - in one form or another. Lately, that love has changed, it's matured into something that I never expected to feel with you. Something strong enough to cause me to make an ass of myself today," he added, with a rueful grin. He stopped when he saw the broad smile on Richie's face. "What's so funny?"   

"Nobody's ever made an ass of themselves over me before," he said glibly. "It's a nice change from me doing it all the time."  

“Thanks," Duncan snorted. "Are you all right with this, Richie?" he asked, suddenly serious.   

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay with it. I never really thought about it. I guess I didn't *let* myself think about it...us, but, well, I...oh, you know what I mean, Mac. It's not just about sex with me, either."  

 Duncan's smile gave Richie's a run for the money in intensity and suddenly the foot or so that separated them was too much. Duncan brought his right hand up to caress Richie's face lovingly, tracing the bridge of his nose and his forehead, wondering idly why Tessa had never sculpted the then-teenager - his face was so expressive, even when he didn't want it to be. He ran his hand down the side of Richie's face then, cupping his cheek and curling his fingers around the side of the young man's head, drawing him slowly forward until their lips met.   

Richie's breath was coming in small gasps, and Duncan proceeded at a painfully slow speed, landing little nipping kisses to the young Immortal's lips and running his tongue lightly over them, smiling as Richie accepted the gesture. Duncan gently nudged Richie's lips apart, slipping his tongue inside to tease and caress at will.  

 Richie moaned at the assault, his own tongue joining in the dance. The cold of the refrigerator at his back was a sharp contrast to the heat emanating from the large Scot as their bodies fought to get even closer.   

After what felt like an eternity, Duncan stepped back, taking deep breaths to steady himself while keeping one arm wrapped around the other man, unwilling to let him go for an instant. He studied Richie's face, looking for signs of uncertainty. "You okay?"   

"Yeah. I'm, uh, I'm...good," Richie breathed.   

Duncan laughed easily at that, and kissed Richie again, his hands dropping to the waist of the young Immortal's jeans to slowly tug his shirt free, giving the younger man the opportunity to stop him, to change his mind. He didn't. Duncan pulled away long enough to draw the shirt over Richie's head and throw it aside. Before he had a chance to go any further, Richie reached out a tentative hand and started unbuttoning the casual shirt Duncan had thrown on, bringing his other hand up to slide it off of the Highlander's broad shoulders.   

Duncan settled the matter of his jeans by stripping them off himself without delay, his arousal pressing insistently against the front of his briefs. Richie's gaze shifted away from it and he flushed guiltily as their eyes met again. Duncan merely smiled at the younger man's understandable curiosity, and hooked a finger playfully in the waist of Richie's jeans, pulling him away from the counter. Richie's own fingers fumbled with the snap and zipper, but he finally managed to unfasten them. He kicked off his shoes and started to bend down to peel off his socks, but Duncan stopped him with a hand on his chest, then knelt and stripped off first one, then the other, taking his time with the task. Richie swallowed as Duncan gazed up at him, reaching up to take a firm hold of either side of the worn denim, and snaking Richie's jeans down over his hips till they lay in a heap at his ankles, leaving him standing in a pair of black boxers. Richie stepped out of the jeans and tried to still his rapidly-beating heart as Duncan seemed content to remain face to crotch with him.   

Unlike Richie, MacLeod showed no embarrassment in his close appraisal of the other man, running a hand lightly up Richie's leg as he stood once more.   

Richie groaned as Duncan pulled him back into his arms, their erections brushing against each other through the layer of thin cotton. Duncan's mouth covered his, their lips and tongues playing a quick game of tag as Duncan slid his hands over Richie's shoulders and down his back to come to rest at the waistband of his boxers. A small nudge at the material and his hands delved underneath, sliding against bare flesh to mold and cup Richie's buttocks, pulling the younger man more firmly against him.   

"Maaaac," Richie moaned into the Scot's mouth. "Please."   

Richie wasn't sure what he was begging for. With a woman he knew the game plan, but with MacLeod he wasn't sure what to do. And the feelings Duncan was evoking in him scared him as almost nothing else had in his young life.   

Duncan, on the other hand, was well-versed in what to do in this situation, and he showed no hesitation to follow through.  

 Richie vaguely felt his boxers drop down his legs, but then Mac was cupping his ass again and all other thoughts fled. "Put your arms around my neck," Duncan ordered, and Richie obeyed without question. He gave a small squeak of surprise as MacLeod lifted him clear of the floor with a hand beneath each bottom cheek and settled him on the edge of the center island. Before Richie had a chance to question the move, his legs were lifted and draped over each of Duncan's broad shoulders, forcing him to lean back on his hands to keep his balance. Richie knew then what Duncan intended, which didn't lessen the shock at all when MacLeod leaned in and kissed the tip of his swollen cock, making it jump of its own volition. The Highlander met Richie's gaze and held it for a moment before encircling the head of Richie's erection with his hotmouth.   

"Oh, God," Richie cried, caught between a moan and a scream.   

Duncan's mouth sank down the length of the swollen member, wrenching small groans from the younger man as it was engulfed entirely down to the hilt. The journey back up was just as earth-shattering for him and Duncan had to grasp Richie's hips to hold him still as the young Immortal tried to slow the trip by thrusting upward again.   

The feel of Duncan's teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, his tongue laving the sides and swirling over the head, his strong and insistent suckling, nearly drove Richie over the edge. He tried to hold back, wanting Duncan to share in the pleasure, but the dark Scot seemed determined to take him to the brink.   

Duncan released one of Richie's hips in order to slide his hand down and fondle the ball sack while increasing the speed of his mouth sliding up and down the young man's cock. Richie nearly came off the counter at the combined stimulation, and shook his head desperately.   

"Mac, I can't...I'm going to..." he cried out, body tensing, knuckles white against the edges of the Formica.   

Duncan's answer was to suck the length of Richie's cock into his mouth again and carefully insinuate one finger through the ring of flesh between Richie's ass cheeks, pressing until he found the sensitive prostate and flicking it with a gentle, but persistent, pressure.   

That last was Richie's undoing. He threw his head back with a guttural scream that could have been heard clearly in the dojo, had anyone been present, and came violently.   

Duncan greedily accepted the fruits of his labors, swallowing until Richie dropped back onto his elbows, eyes closed as he rode out the aftershocks. He opened them again to stare at Duncan with wide-eyed wonder and the Highlander noted that the blue orbs appeared much darker than normal, glazed with what he could only label passion.   

"God, Mac, that was...that was--" Richie tried between gasps of air.   

"Fun?" Duncan suggested, with a crooked grin.   

"Unbelievable," Richie corrected, taking a gulp of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.  

"Man, I never thought...I mean, no one's ever-- "   

"Good," Duncan said, inordinately pleased to be the first to introduce Richie to such pleasure. He straightened up and slid his hands further up Richie's hips. "Put your hands on my shoulders." He waited till the young man complied, then lifted him clear of the counter and slid him down his own unsated body.   

Richie leaned against Duncan's chest as his breathing slowed, and slipped a hand between them to caress the very noticeable bulge in the Scot's briefs. "What about you, Mac?" he asked, looking up into the other man's eyes with a shy smile that seemed out of place on his face.   

"We've got plenty of time. All the time in the world."   

Duncan lowered his lips to Richie's once more, playing havoc with the young Immortal's senses as he alternated between light, feathery kisses, and deep, heart-pounding, mouth-plundering ones that threatened to curl Richie's toes. He never noticed the gradual manner in which Duncan maneuvered him toward the bed, too caught up in his body's reaction to the older man's manipulations.  

 Not until the back of his legs bumped the mattress did he fully realize that they had changed locations.  

Duncan sat down on the side of the bed and pulled Richie along with him as he lay back against the pillows - kissing, touching, stroking, keeping up aconstant assault on the young man's senses that Richie eagerly returned. Mouths finding lips, ears, necks, shoulders, teasing nipples to hard nubs, before sliding back to mouth-on-mouth, tongue-on-tongue, stealing each other'sbreath and sanity.   

It was Richie who pulled away first this time, smiling playfully at Duncan before sliding down the Scot's chest, flicking his tongue over already sensitized nipples, then moving slowly lower. He licked the Highlander's belly-button, delving his tongue into the small cavern, a surprisingly erogenous area that had Duncan's eyes widening even as Richie slipped lower with his head and shoulders, squirming around so that his hips were a mere foot away from the older man's waist. Reaching the end of his journey, he studied Duncan's cock, moving his hand around the surrounding skin and blowing gently on the nest of dark curls until the Highlander thought he would go quietly mad with frustration. When Richie finally wrapped his warm hand around the already painfully swollen erection and slid down to grasp the base, Duncan had to grit his teeth to keep from exploding immediately.  

Richie started a rhythm then, sliding his fist up to the cock's head then back to the base, again and again, turning his hand slightly, pumping Duncan expertly, watching MacLeod's face redden as he fought to hold on, and secretly reveling in actually having the upper hand for the first time.  Accepting that it was time to take another step forward into uncharted territory, Richie leaned in uncertainly and hovered over the tip, sticking his tongue out, but falling short of the aching flesh by less than an inch.   

"Richie," Duncan gasped out, stretched to the breaking point by the sweet torment.   

"Hmmm. Am I doing it wrong? Maybe I should stop," Richie suggested wickedly.   

"Richie!" There was an urgency to the cry this time that the young man couldn't ignore and he lowered his head, engulfing the entire length of Duncan's throbbing erection in his mouth. MacLeod's lower body roseoff the bed, taking Richie with it, though the young man never slowed in his ministrations, laving his lips and tongue up and down the turgid member until Duncan groaned loudly, bunching the bedcovers in his clenched fists.   

The delicious torment stopped abruptly, and he gazed down to find Richie regarding him with a playful smile. "Did you say something? Did you want a glass of water, or something?" he asked, batting his eyes.   

He actually batted his eyes. So he wanted to play, did he? Duncan growled deep in his throat and without hesitation glanced a resounding smack across both of Richie's vulnerable bottom cheeks.   

Richie yelped and reached a hand back to massage the abused flesh. "Geez, ask a guy a question," he muttered.   

Duncan's eyes narrowed dangerously, then closed against another groan as Richie hastily bent back to his task, belatedly twisting his nether regions out of striking range.  

 Richie may have been a novice, but he was also a quick learner, driving Duncan to the edge again and again, then pulling back to kiss and stroke the tumid member until MacLeod reached down to finish the task himself. Richie knocked his hands aside and started to stroke the cock with rapid movements of his hand, ducking his head down to suck on Duncan's balls and flick his tongu over the sensitive flesh at their base.   

Duncan nearly threw him off as his hips rose clear of the bed, but Richie held on tenaciously, sucking, licking, stroking until the Highlander let out a roar that would have done him proud on any battlefield, and released a rather impressive stream of fluid. He took several deep breaths as his heartrate dropped back within normal bounds, and threw Richie an appraising look.   

"You're going to be the death of me," he declared, sighing wearily as Richie crawled up onto his chest, apparently ready for round three.   

"Yeah, but what a way to go," Richie laughed, grinning madly. The grin slipped then, and he looked at Duncan self-consciously. "So, I guess I did all right," he said, sounding very unsure of himself.  

 Duncan laughed, and couldn't contain the impulse to ruffle the young man's hair. "You did much more than 'all right,' Rich. As a matter of fact, if you get much better at his, I may not survive."   

Richie's smile lit up his face. "I'm bound to improve with practice," he taunted, his fears quickly and effectively laid to rest. And I'm nineteen physically, remember. I can last all night."   

Duncan cocked up an eyebrow. "Are you calling me old?"   

"Well, you *are* over four hundred. I'll try to take it easy on you," he offered magnanimously, wearing a crooked smile.   

Duncan nodded. "I appreciate that," he said dryly.   

"Least I can do." Richie started to shift his weight off MacLeod, but Duncan held him fast, enjoying the close contact. He linked his fingers together over Richie's back and smiled up at him, almost daring him to attempt an escape. Richie shrugged, content to stay where he was, and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them and gazing down at the older man.   

"What?" Duncan asked after several minutes of silence. He had an uncanny way of knowing when something was on Richie's mind.   

Richie smiled slightly at that unexplainable perception between them. "Mac,how long have you, uh..."   

"Loved you this way?" Duncan supplied. "I think I realized my feelings had changed when you were racing in Paris last year."   

"That long? But Anne was there," Richie reminded him, obviously puzzled.   

"And I still felt for her deeply, but..." He left the thought unfinished. "When you died in that motorcycle crash, I..."   

"You were pissed...big time," Richie finished for him.  

"I was upset, Richie. There's a difference," he corrected. "I think that was the first time I realized that I was looking at you differently. Notas a boy that I was responsible for - and who I loved appropriately - but as a young man who was there for me whenever I needed him. Who made me laugh...and yell, and who sometimes took my breath away."   

"You been drinking, Mac?" Richie asked flippantly, feeling uncomfortable with the subject matter.   

"No. Now be quiet," Duncan scolded. "You asked, remember? Now just listen." He shifting against the pillows before continuing. "Later, when Kristov kidnapped you, and I thought he had...well, it really brought it home to me for the first time, just what you meant to me. And then when Anne and I drove you to the airport, and you said 'I'd kiss you, but people might talk--' you don't know how hard it was for me not to get on that plane with you." He impulsively placed a kiss on the tip of Richie's nose.  

 "How come you didn't say anything before?" Richie asked, crinkling up his nose and brushing a hand across it.   

"I didn't think you felt the same way, and I didn't want to drive you away. Lord knows you had enough girlfriends," he laughed.   

Richie laughed along with him. "Yeah, kind of a hobby of mine, huh? Maybe I always knew what...who I wanted, somewhere deep inside me," he added, with a small smile.   

Duncan landed another kiss on his nose.   

"Quit that!" Richie protested, rubbing it again.   

"Don't think so. I like your nose," Duncan retorted, unruffled.   

Richie eyed him comically. "You're weird, you know that?"   

Duncan chuckled in response. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to do that? Especially when you gave me one of your wide-eyed innocent looks."   

"Who, me?"   

"Yeah, that one," Duncan pointed out, kissing Richie again before he could pull away. "You asked for it."   

It was Richie who laughed, this time. "If I live to be four hundred, will I develop a nose fetish, too?"   

"I don't love *all* noses, just yours," Duncan sniffed. "Along with your eyes and certain other body parts," he murmured, reaching around to cup Richie's bottom cheeks and give them a firm squeeze.   


"What?" he asked, pulling Richie's groin up against his own reawakened erection.   

"Ummmm, nothing," Richie purred, feeling the vibrations rise up through his body as Duncan's chest rumbled with laughter.   

The Highlander slid his hands up Richie's sides, pulling the young Immortal up along his body length until their lips met in a searing kiss that left Richie breathless and aching. Duncan leered up into his face, then abruptly flipped the young man over onto his back, covering him with his own larger body. Herepositioned himself until their cocks came into heated contact, relishing theway Richie jumped in response. Pinning Richie's hands to the bed, he started a slow, steady stroking rhythm with his hips - gliding up and down - bringing them both to the brink and then hesitating, before starting anew.   

"MAC..." Richie protested, thrashing his head from side to side, unable to do anything but feel as Duncan held him immobile.   

"What was that you were saying about taking it easy on me?"   

"Uh...um, I don't remember. Please," he cried, a cross between a whimper and a moan.   

"Please, what?" Duncan teased, his own breath coming hot and heavy in the redhead's ear.   

"Pleeeeaaasse," Richie repeated, unable to articulate his need.   

Duncan lowered his head, sealing Richie's lips with his own and quickened the pace and thrusts of his hips, matching that rhythm with his tongue while their cocks pulsed and twitched at the friction of flesh on flesh.   

They exploded together, sucking hard on each other's tongues as stream afterstream burst from them, covering their stomachs and groins as they slowed their gyrations.   
Once their breathing had returned to normal, Duncan climbed to his feet and headed for the bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp cloth. He washed Richie first, with infinitely tender swipes of the towel, then saw to himself before throwing the cloth into the bathroom and heading back to bed. He drew the covers back with Richie's help and they both climbed onto the cool sheets, leaving the blanket at the foot of the bed - it was too warm for that just yet.  

 Night had fallen in the last hour while they had indulged themselves, but the light from the bathroom and that shining in through the window illuminated the loft and the couple within.   

"You don't want me to go home?" Richie asked after several minutes of companionable silence.   

"I don't want you to go home," Duncan assured him. He pulled Richie up snugly against him, wrapping a possessive arm around him.   

Richie, for his part, was happy to flop over onto his side and fling an arm across the Scot's chest, his fingers playing with the hairs he found there.  

"You're pretty good...for an old guy," he sallied.   

"Are you being disrespectful to your elders?"   

"If I was, would I get my butt smacked again?" he asked, grinning impishly as only Richie could.    

Duncan's right hand had already dropped to Richie's small round cheeks, where it drifted idly over the pink flesh. "It's a definite possibility," he answered, ominously.  

"Uh, in that case, I wouldn't dream of being disrespectful to the great Duncan MacLeod," Richie assured him with a look of pure innocence that had Duncan snorting with laughter.  

"Rich, I'm afraid that look doesn't work with you lying there au naturale. Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he murmured, nuzzling the young man's neck.  

"Hey, whose fault is it that I lost my clothes?" the redhead asked, in mock reproach.

"Mine," Duncan said, suddenly pensive. "Any regrets?"

Richie raised up to look him in the eye. "Yeah," he answered solemnly, and Duncan felt his heart freeze in his chest. "That I didn't kiss you at the airport in Paris last year." He followed this admission with one of his patented killer smiles.

 Duncan let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding and grasped Richie's chin, giving it a firm shake. "You scared the hell out of me," he admitted, then lowered his mouth and kissed the younger man with great tenderness, following up with a kiss to each eyelid and, of course, one for his nose.  

"Mac!" Richie objected.  

"Get used to it," Duncan advised, pulling Richie back against him, with his head of short red curls tucked underneath his chin.  

"Is it time for round four?" Richie asked, somewhat hesitantly.

 "Round four?"  

"Yeah. I may be new at this, Mac, but we haven't...you didn't..." His voice trailed off.

 "Not yet, Rich. Later. When you're ready. I won't ever ask you to do that. All right? It'll be your choice."  

Richie burrowed closer to Duncan's side. "Thanks, Mac," he murmured, in an uncharacteristically small voice.  

Duncan brushed a hand down his cheek and across his lips in a soft caress. "Go to sleep, Richie. We've got a hard day tomorrow."

 "Hard? Did someone say 'hard?'" Richie quipped, sounding more like himself and reaching down to run a finger along the length of Duncan's flaccidcock.  

"Richie, behave yourself and go to sleep," Duncan repeated sternly, as he somewhat reluctantly pulled the questing digit away.  

Richie smiled. "Sleep. I can think of better things to do," he commented idly, trying to insinuate his hand back between them.  

"*Goodnight,* Richie." There was a definite threat in Duncan's tone, even without the two less-than-gentle pats he delivered to Richie's bottom.

 "Yeah, okay. Goodnight...grouch," Richie grumbled good-naturedly, turning on his side away from MacLeod.  

Duncan smiled and pulled the slightly built Immortal back against him, spooning his own larger body around him. How many nights had he dreamt of holding the young man like this? Too many to count.  



"I love you."  

No stuttering, no hesitation. Duncan knew how much that simple admission cost him.  His smile widened and he tightened his hold on his friend, his student, his lover. "I love you, too, Richie," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.  

Despite all of his protests, Richie was asleep within minutes, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For Duncan sleep was more elusive, but he was content merely to watch the younger man, memorizing every detail and storing it away for later reference. Whatever came now, they would face it together. Finding comfort in the thought, his eyes drifted shut. 

We'll Always Have Paris...Well, Seacouver, Anyway
Macrich Macrich99@aol.com
August 1997