Let me first say that any and all references to video games are intended to be general and are not intended to reflect actual video games available in our universe today. This is my very first ever slash fanfic, so please bear with me. Any constructive criticism is appreciated and can be directed to me at n.memmott@gte.net This is hopefully the first of a series of games that Richie and Methos will play for me. This one ended up with a little more plot than I had planned on, but what could I do? The story seemed to be writing itself. I just did the typing. The rest will probably be some combination of pwp’s and actual stories. A huge thank you to Emma for being brave enough to beta read. I really appreciate it! I’m just borrowing Richie and Methos, of course, and anything else in here that’s not mine. No original characters, I promise. Enjoy.

R ichie bobbled and then dropped the video game controller as the presence of another immortal shocked through him. Methos’ appearance in the doorway burdened with groceries was cause both for relief and for irritation at the interruption. Sparing a nod for his lover, Richie scrambled to reach the controller before the venom-spewing mutant zombies blocked his escape from the Fortress of Eternal Doom. A few expert touches and he saved himself in the nick of time. One final blast with the laser pulse cannon finished off the zombies and Richie prepared for level 10.

Setting the bags on the kitchen counter, Methos shook his head to see that Richie had apparently not moved in the two hours he’d been gone. Lately, he thought, the apocalypse could arrive and Richie wouldn’t pay any attention. Methos spent a few silent moments watching Richie manipulate the game’s controls, arguing with his character in the game, shifting his body left and right as his character attempted to evade the enemy.

The tingles of arousal should have come as no surprise. Methos had intimate knowledge of just what Richie’s hands were capable of. Before MacLeod bought him the damn SuperDreamcast, Richie’s hands had caressed not a plastic joystick, but a much warmer, more human one. Methos bit back an oath as his erection hardened even more. Of course, Richie’s hands weren’t the only amazing part of him.... Cursing the Scot and whatever nerdy twenty-year-old had pieced together the first Atari, Methos turned his focus back to the groceries remaining in the car.

The sound of the door closing behind Methos was followed closely by the sounds of Richie’s fiery death at the hands of the Dragon Lord. Even knowing that it was Methos and not some other immortal after his head, Richie hadn’t been able to focus on the game. Feeling those eyes on him had destroyed his concentration. Richie saved the game when prompted to do so, but he was already thinking about participating in more… hands-on pursuits. His hands, on the buttons of Methos’ jeans, around Methos’ cock. Finally his hands would stroke Methos’ back and hold him close after they were both exhausted.

Anxious to make the images in his head become reality, Richie got up to shut off the game. At the last second, however, he hesitated. He knew he could get the Dragon Lord next time. He just needed to use one more acid bomb to blind the Dragon Lord and then the ice sword to finish him off.

He was pretty good with a sword, Richie thought, grinning smugly. Memories of just how good Methos had taught him to be with a rather large, very hard sword made Richie hit the power button with a determined click.

He had the first bag of groceries put away when Methos returned with the last two. Methos just arched an eyebrow and asked, “Did you finally save the Fairy Queen from the dungeon of the Flesh-Eating Robot Warrior?”

Richie ignored the tone — Methos had been really grumpy the last few days — and replied, “I did that yesterday in ‘Flesh-Eating Robot Warrior IV’. This is ‘Curse of the Mind-Stealing Mummy.’ I have to find the treasure and kill the Mummy.”

“Sorry. My mistake.”

The sarcasm had definitely gone up a notch. If it got any sharper, Richie thought, he would probably start bleeding. For a moment he just stood there, confused and a little angry. What had he done? When he realized Methos had not touched him once, even by accident, since coming in with the groceries, Richie knew he was in real trouble. Whatever had pissed Methos off, it was serious. Mechanically putting cans in the cupboards and produce in the refrigerator, Richie considered the possibilities. Finally, desperate to break the silence and to change the subject, Richie said, “I forgot to tell you, Joe called this morning while you were in the shower. He invited us to the club tonight. Some friend of his is in town and they’re going to play a few sets together.”

Some of Methos’ frustration eased at the thought of a night out with Richie, but then Richie added, “But I thought we could stay in tonight, instead.”

His anger returning in a rush, Methos missed the heat in Richie’s eyes and the desire thick in his voice. Lashing out, Methos spat, “Why? So you can play the damned video game?” Methos’ mouth shut abruptly as he heard the harshness of his own voice. So much for studied indifference.

As stunned as Methos, Richie found himself struggling for words. Where had that come from? So what if he stayed up playing video games a few nights a week? Surely Methos didn’t mind that he sometimes fell asleep on the couch instead of going to bed. So they hadn’t been party animals lately. They didn’t have to go out all the time. Why, he and Methos had just been to Joe’s… three weeks ago? Oh, God.

The Mind-Stealing Mummy and his minion the Dragon Lord could keep their treasure. Closing the distance between them, Richie looked into Methos’ angry eyes and said softly, “Actually, I thought I’d play with you, instead.” In spite of himself, Methos found himself responding. His eyes took on a familiar and promising gleam, but Richie backed up before Methos could touch him. He grinned, “But if you want to go to Joe’s…”

Methos hauled Richie up against him and growled, “Not on your life!’ before crushing Richie’s lips with his own.

The sweet savagery of Methos’ tongue, the heat of Methos’ erection pressed intimately against his own emptied Richie’s mind of anything but the most elemental images. Need. Want. Ache. All of the emotions Methos had been suppressing for weeks had erupted in a passion that was burning Richie alive. The threads of Richie’s t-shirt had survived countless washes but surrendered without a fight to one good tug from Methos. The rending of cloth gave way to a metallic rasp as Methos tugged at Richie’s zipper and peeled his jeans away. Thank God he hadn’t bothered with underwear.

Now that his partner was naked, Methos began to tease all of the secret spots. Richie found himself helpless to do more than gasp and shudder under the tender punishment. Unable to stand any longer, he dragged both of them to the floor.

Methos ignored Richie’s attempts to remove his sweater at first, but he wanted to feel his bare skin heat under Richie’s touch, feel his muscles contract beneath Richie’s talented mouth as it kissed and nibbled. Methos stood and undressed slowly, the feel of Richie’s admiring gaze as arousing as if Richie had actually touched him.

Methos hesitated before rejoining Richie on the floor. One last part of him tried to hold back, but Richie’s eyes begged. Then his hand reached out for Methos’. “Please,” he whispered.

Growling deep in his throat, Methos felt the last barrier breaking away as he leaned down to plunder Richie’s mouth once more. The feel of skin meeting skin fueled the fire blazing between them. Erection rubbing against erection was an almost unbearable pleasure.

Using all the strength he could muster, Richie pushed Methos back and rolled on top of him. Their legs tangling, Richie began to devote his attention to the sensitive nipples he had neglected. His diligence was rewarded when Methos’ body began to twist beneath his. Methos’ moans encouraged him to linger. Richie couldn’t believe he had allowed a video reality to supplant the satin of Methos’ skin, the quivering of his stomach muscles when Richie’s lips pressed there. And nothing could be as important as hearing the cry Methos could not hold back when Richie licked away the first drop of moisture on the head of Methos’ cock. Then another. Before tasting a third, Richie realized he couldn’t forget the responsive skin on the inside of Methos’ thighs. Although it stretched taut over muscle, the skin there was incredibly soft, and Richie loved it. He nipped lightly, then soothed the area with his tongue. Next he began to suck on a small patch of skin, so close to the area where Methos was dying to be sucked, but not the same. To further torment his lover, Richie’s tongue flicked briefly across Methos’ balls on its way to tease the other leg. When he finished there, Richie at last gave Methos’ balls his undivided attention.

Richie was forced to stop when Methos fisted his hands in Richie’s hair and pulled his head up. When Methos looked into Richie’s eyes and commanded, “Now!” Richie did not hesitate. He took Methos’ erection as deeply into his mouth and throat as he was able and began the rhythmic suction he knew would send Methos over the edge. For long moments Methos hovered on the brink between arousal and satisfaction. So close, but he resisted that final capitulation. Suddenly Richie sucked him just a fraction of an inch deeper, and Methos exploded.

Although his own arousal begged attention, Richie savored the taste of Methos’ release flooding his mouth, sliding down his throat. He was so absorbed that he was caught off guard when Methos pulled him into a thorough kiss and took the top position. When Methos’ hand found Richie’s aching cock, he moaned into Methos’ mouth. No other lover had ever known so exactly where, when, and how to touch him. One minute Richie’s orgasm was a small cloud in the distance and then it was a raging storm that rocked him to his core. He spent himself helplessly in Methos’ hand, burying his face in the curve of Methos’ neck.

He opened his eyes at last and found Methos gazing solemnly at him. “I missed you, Brat.”

How he had hurt the man he loved, Richie realized. Reaching up to run a thumb over Methos’ cheekbone, he apologized. “I’m sorry. I had no idea I was so... gone.”

Methos sat up but didn’t move far. “Not very flattering to be replaced by a bit of plastic and some pixels on a TV screen.”

“Never!” Richie denied fiercely, sitting up himself. “Don’t even think that, Methos.”

“Richie, you have been obsessed with those games since MacLeod brought that thing here.”

“I don’t have any real excuse, I know. Some knee-jerk reaction from always wanting one and never having one when I was a kid, probably. But I’m over it, Methos.”

“You’ll unplug the thing?”

“If you want,” Richie agreed.

“I hear a ‘but’”

“I just thought...”

“Yes?”

“We could get a second controller and play two-player,” Richie replied, a hopeful smile on face.

Join Richie in the dubious entertainment of a video game? Methos hesitated.

“Please, Methos? Just try it.”

And wasn’t he the idiot that always give the Brat whatever he wanted when he said, “Please” in that tone of voice? Who would have thought that the man formerly known as Death would have turned to marshmallow after five thousand years? Methos got to his feet, determined to make Richie suffer a little even if he was going to get his way in the end.

“Methos?”

“One game.”

Richie jumped up with a whoop.

Methos shook his head. “Not now, Brat.”

“No?”

“No.” Methos repeated. “After.”

“After?”

Methos grinned, “Yes, little parrot. After.”

Richie had gotten so caught up in watching a nude Methos walk away from him to realize where he was headed. When Methos turned his head back and arched a brow at him, though, Richie caught on. “Oh, after.” Beaming, he hurried to beat Methos to the bedroom.

The next one was supposed to be Twister, but I just can’t spit it out. Sometimes it wants to be mostly sex with a little angst thrown in and the next minute it’s mostly angst with a little sex for good measure. Tic Tac Toe’s looking promising, though. And I get to poke at Duncan a bit, too. Again, comments are welcome. Please let me know what you think.

© 2001 Nikki Memmott