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Slash and Yaoi Fiction
Title: Before the Exchange
Author: Juxian Tang
Fandom: Highlander
Pairing: Methos/other
Rating: NC-17
Status: complete
Archive: yes
Feedback: juxiantang@hotmail.com
URL: http://juxian.slashcity.net
Spoilers: Methuselah's Gift
Notes: for those who don't have every Methos' episode memorized by heart, here is a brief reminder :-) Amanda and Methos try to steal Methuselah's Stone from Watcher HQ when Methos' (i. e., Adam Pierson's) boss Nathan Stern and Amanda's former watcher Geiger appear. Amanda escapes with the crystal but Methos is shot and the watchers get to know that he is an Immortal. At first they want to take his head but then decide to exchange him for the Methuselah's Stone.
Disclaimer: as usual
Summary: Methos has a nasty encounter with two watchers.
Warning: rape. I mean it! Don't read it if it can upset you.

BEFORE THE EXCHANGE

This story is for Blue

"They agree to exchange," Stern said putting down the receiver; there was satisfaction and contempt in his voice, as if he detested them for being so predictable. Geiger stopped rocking on his hills restlessly. "In two hours."

Methos heard Stern taking the phone again, making the calls. He still knelt on the floor, looking straight down. He didn't need to stay like this, as if still extending his head for a blow - but he didn't want to get up, didn't want to look up. The exquisite pattern of the Persian carpet under his knees imprinted in his mind with startling clearness. Fear still tasted bitter in his mouth but it was already going away, leaving just huge unbearable emptiness inside his chest.

Everything was over. He lost. Well, the things could be worse, in fact, the things had been worse just minutes ago - but he didn't feel elated now. He hadn't been lying to Mac when saying that he would give his life. The thing was that it turned out to be in no demand. Even giving his life wouldn't save Alexa.

Come on, did he ever believe he could save her? It was not just the stone, just its magic power, alleged or real. It was the feeling of doom he somehow had from the very beginning. Yes, he tried. He tried because he knew he wouldn't forgive himself for not trying, for just watching her dying like this. His mind eagerly prompted him with the thought about the crystal - the chance; his memory was full of such things that could either work or not. When, a while ago, he had brought MacLeod to the holy spring, he hadn't been sure it would help, too.

But for Mac he succeeded - and failed for Alexa.

She trusted him. She didn't know what he planned when leaving her - but she trusted him that his leaving was necessary, that it was not just a pretext to escape, to get away from watching her agony. At least he prayed to God she didn't think so. He thought he could risk it - because if he returned with the stone, if the legend turned out to be true - then she would know - and his absence would be redeemed.

Now he had nothing to redeem in with. She would die - because he was a failure. Five thousand years old - and he couldn't do even one simple thing properly! Shame and despair were like soft drumming in his temples, deafening him. He wished it was the only thing he could hear. He wanted to close his eyes and see nothing at all. He wanted to cover his face with his hands - but they were tied behind his back, so tightly that he didn't feel his fingers.

Then a shadow entered his sight - Stern's soft expensive boots - and at the next moment numbing pain broke on his face. His head jerked back under the heavy blow, the cheekbone seeming to burst with fierce pain, blood - warm and coppery - filled his mouth at once with a violent flow. He tried to look up - but his gaze was disoriented, he was so dizzy that he started sliding on his side, his tied hands not giving him any balance. Then the hand grabbed his collar, stopping his fall, and shook him back into kneeling position.

With dazed eyes Methos focused on Stern who stood over him. There was a gun, handle forward, in the man's hand, and Methos understood it was what made the blow so stunning. He wanted to say something - but only had time to gasp before another punch went directly in his face.

Stern has to be mad with me, well, he has the reason, a dazzled thought came to him when his nose broke with a soft cracking sound and he felt the flows of blood running over his lips and chin.

"Sir! Sir, what are you doing?!" Geiger's shocked voice reached him through the haze. He was hit again, now in his mouth, and pressed his tongue to his teeth quickly, trying not to let them fall out. He could not see clearly, his head swooning, and he didn't even feel fear or anger, just amazement. Stern, his proper respectable boss! Who would think?

After the last blow he was not held any more and sank on his side, curled slackly in a heap. The floor was hard under his temple and he could feel the carpet getting wet with his blood at once. They are going to have one hell of cleaning, he thought absently. Not that they have ever been afraid of cleaning.

"You ask me what, Dan?" Stern's voice was cold but sharp with indignance when he spoke. "Do you think it can damage him irreparably? This Immortal traitor won't be any worse of it."

Methos felt his coat grabbed again as he was raised back on his knees. The movement made his head throb so badly that he made a small anguished sound.

"Hurt? Does it hurt?" Stern was working himself into worse fury, mocking and hateful as he slapped Methos on his face. "Don't you think you don't deserve it? With everything you did against us?"

"I didn't do it against you," blood filled his mouth, hindering him to speak - but he still tried. "I explained you - I needed the stone..."

"One more word and we'll see how long it takes you to heal a head wound," Stern cut him off short, shoving the muzzle of the gun in his temple, sending another wave of pain through his barely healing cheekbone. "We had enough lies from you.

"You don't have to worry about him, son," this time Stern spoke to Geiger who hovered around, stepping from foot to foot uneasily. "Worry about the damage he brought to us. Well, it was my fault that I didn't puzzle him out earlier."

Methos saw the boot rising but there was nothing he could do as it hit in his groin. It made him choke as he slumped over his knees, tugging his hands desperately, yearning to clasp his hands around his bottom belly and unable to do it. He wished he could cry out but the pain was so sharp that it made him mute, making his mouth gape soundlessly. He heard Geiger speaking above him, softly but with a hysterical note in his voice:

"Please, sir."

Don't ask, kid, it's going to bring nothing. He breathed in carefully, trying to re-supply oxygen, waiting for the pain to recede. It had to recede, it always did - but it took time or so it seemed to him. Stern's cold strong hand clasped his hair again, raising him on his knees back.

He yanks me like a thing, he thought tiredly. He probably had a concussion and his brain still was too sluggish to work properly.

"Stop whining, Dan, don't be such a wet rag," Stern's voice was laced with superiority. "This is an Immortal! Tell me you didn't dream about it - having one of them like this, on his knees in front of you! Who can watch them day after day and not think about it? These monstrosities, these ruthless killers! I watched them for thirty years. I hated them for twenty nine and a half!"

Then you have your glory hour now, Methos thought sourly, feeling a smile crawling on his split lips involuntarily. But there was nothing jolly in it at all. Not at all.

This time the kick was in his belly and he collapsed on the floor, retching. Bile filled his mouth as his stomach tried to turn itself inside out. He shuddered as Stern leant over him, the gun once more in his hand.

"I wonder whether we will see a Quickening if I blow off half of your head now," he said hoarsely. The gun hovered in his hand and even through the mist in his eyes Methos couldn't help but follow the black muzzle pointing at him. His head, his chest, his belly... The shot was cracking and loud and, before the pain hit him, Methos had time to notice that the sound made Geiger jump up like a scared fox.

It was nothing vital, however, just his knee. He understood why Stern spoke about blowing off his head - the caliber was this big. He rolled on the floor, gritting his teeth and still howling with pain as his kneecap was turned into the mash of shattered bone and bloody pulp.

"It's just for him not to have any silly thoughts," Stern explained to Geiger calmly. "Here, help me."

They yanked Methos up and he almost passed out as his crippled leg trailed on the floor when they dragged him - but even that was not so bad as the pain that exploded when he was thrown down and his knee hit the floor. He shrieked incoherently, seeing nothing but red for a while. There was a low sofa in front of him and he fell forward over its seat on his chest.

"Yes, like that," Stern said with contentment, pushing on the back of his head. "Perfect."

Perfect? As the pain was leaving him slowly, he started feeling how wet his face was, with sweat and involuntary tears.

"What are you going to do, sir?" Geiger asked again, his voice insistent and scared, but this time Stern even didn't bother to answer him. Methos felt him yanking at his coat roughly. Stern didn't try to take it off - and he wouldn't be able to, with Methos' hands tied behind his back. He gathered the flaps instead and tucked them between Methos' chest and the seat of the sofa, pressing with his knee on Methos' back to emphasize what he wanted.

Methos turned his face carefully. There were cozy embroidered cushions in the corners of the sofa and he found himself facing one. He wished Stern took his knee away, it made him difficult to breathe. He had a guess what was going to happen. The kid, maybe, didn't know what but he did. His pose was quite obvious - and, besides, looking at the gun muzzle earlier, he spotted how stretched Stern's pants were around his groin. It didn't surprise him. Violence was the best turn-on, he knew it since those long forgotten times when he had ridden with his brothers - and hatred was not worse for this purpose, too.

Stern kicked his legs apart before kneeling between them. It was when he reached to Methos' belt when it at last registered with Geiger.

"No, sir! You can't... you can't want to do it!"

"It will teach him a lesson," Stern muttered as his hands unbuttoned Methos' fly and then yanked his pants down. Methos shivered involuntarily as he felt the air chilly on his backside. He felt chilly inside, too. He tried to control his mind from humiliation flooding it, knowing that it would make things only worse; it always did.

"Where are you going to, Dan?"

"I... I need to make some calls," Geiger's voice faltered. For a moment Methos felt strangely thankful to him. No way you can escape, kid. You'll have to stomach it.

"Stay here," Stern's voice was metallic. He was not going to give Geiger any more pampering. "Take the gun and watch this scum. I don't want him thrashing."

It was not that Methos was going to thrash. Not only because it would be agonizing for his slowly healing knee - but it was the numbness inside him, enveloping his mind tightly. It was as it had to be. He failed in what he had to do, he turned out to be worthless, not better than a shit - and like a shit they were going to use him.

Ooh fine, Stern wasn't even going to use the lube! He understood it hearing Stern spitting on his fingers and then feeling their wet pressure on his anus. His body strove away from the pain without him noticing it but there was nowhere to go, just the sofa under his chest. The fingers entered him, wetting him inside, turning around, stretching and tearing him. Sickness was rolling over him in waves. He breathed with opened mouth, trying to be silent. The fingers moved, thick and hard and intrusive - and when they were gone at last, unreasonably he felt relief for a moment. Then they were replaced with the bigger rounded tip of the cock.

"It's not that we need to worry about AIDS," Stern chuckled behind him.

The pain of penetration made him gasp, long and loud. This sound had to startle Geiger.

"Oh God," he heard the kid's soft pathetic whisper. But he couldn't be silent. The pain of the cock spreading his rectum, driving inside in long merciless thrusts, was too bad. He hit his head on the soft seat of the sofa and then caught the coverlet in his mouth, clenching his teeth on it. Stern breathed loudly over him, taking a moment of rest as he finished entering. It was as if his insides were pulled out when Stern retrieved his cock, almost to the point of slipping out, and then thrust back.

Dizziness was clouding him. It was not enough to help his mind to wander away from pain, even though he tried. It just made him disoriented and more vulnerable to every violent stroke slamming in him, throwing him forward on the sofa and pulling him back on the out-motion.

It had been hundreds years since he had been raped violently like that for the last time. And it was almost a decade since he had sex with a man. It was Don Salzer... his friend and colleague, awkward but gentle, embarrassed deeply with his realization that he could find male sex attractive. His arms so warm around Methos, his simple face becoming almost beautiful when flushed with excitement and affection.

Methos was never good at connecting - and his attachments were few and far between. Don. Then Mac. Then Alexa. No! He stopped himself abruptly from thinking. He couldn't, he didn't have the right to do it. He couldn't involve his loved ones to the dirt of what was happening to him, even if only mentally. Thanks God, they won't ever know, he thought curtly.

An agonizing yank on his tied hands brought him back from his temporary distraction, made him stifle a cry. Stern pressed on his wrists, wrenching them upward on every stroke so violently that Methos distantly wondered how the bones didn't snap yet. Not that Stern would care.

There was dull pain spreading inside his belly, plus to the burning agony of his rectum. Inner hemorrhage, he thought grimly. It will pass. The coverlet of the sofa where he gnawed at it tasted coppery with his blood and he didn't even know if it was old blood dissolved or he bit his lip or tongue. He was so dizzy that his vision blurred. The bright-feathered parrot embroidered on one of the cushions seemed three-dimensional and floating in the air in front of his eyes.

Stern's strokes speeded up, getting stronger and shallower as he drove his hips closer over Methos, not letting him any room to breathe. Methos gasped, the lack of oxygen tormenting but the upcoming blackness welcome. It was going to be over soon, he knew it. He could feel Stern's hot breath on the back of his neck and their hands were jammed between them, his tied and Stern's clasped on his wrists tightly as a pair of steel cuffs.

Then, driving in as deep as he could, Stern ejaculated.

He could breathe again when Stern got up from him - and it felt so good, the air so sweet that he hardly could keep a moan of pleasure, shushing himself against the coverlet. He felt so tired that he seemed to be unable to move. But he knew he would - if only they let him. He wanted to get up so much, to be allowed to put on his pants back. His blood and Stern's sperm was sticky and cold on his thighs.

"Sir..." he heard Geiger's voice, hesitant, inquiring.

"Now you, Dan!"

Raising his head, Methos saw Stern approach Geiger. The kid's long face seemed even longer now, his eyes staring.

"I?.."

"Yes, you. I'll keep the gun."

"But I..."

It could be a surprise for the kid but it was not for him. Somehow he knew it would be like that. It made sense, right? To secure Geiger's loyalty with it.

"In no way," Geiger said resolutely at last.

"Why?" Stern's voice was mocking and crispy cold and under its pressure Geiger flailed again.

"Because I can't! I don't want him!"

"Then let him make you want him. He can do it. He is experienced enough, am I right?" this time Stern spoke to him. He felt the muzzle tapping on his head.

"I don't like men!" Geiger exclaimed in the last desperate effort.

"What does your sexual orientation have to do here?" Stern shrugged. "Be careful, you Immortal bastard," grabbing Methos' coat he pulled him and turned him around on his knees towards Geiger. "If you aren't good enough, I'll make you feel sorry that you can't die. It will be my pleasure."

The lanky figure of Geiger was in front of him, the kid's fingers fumbling with the zipper reluctantly as Stern watched them both with smug expression. That's a watcher, Methos thought with cold anger and exhaustion. Well, watch then!

The kid was fully aroused, he realized with a start, seeing the stiff shaft brought up to his face. Something warm stirred in his chest towards Geiger again - for at least trying to resist, not behaving under the instinct. Geiger was circumcised, his cock long and thin as he himself, angry-red and with slightly wet tip. Methos ran his tongue along it several times, feeling how the kid shivered, then taking the cock-head in his mouth briefly before letting it go. He looked up at Geiger, making a small movement with his eyes, hoping that he would understand and would comply. Since they didn't need to imitate the process of arousing, it was better to finish it as soon as possible.

He turned on his knees to the sofa again, taking the same pose submissively. The coverlet was still wet where he had bitten into it. He heard Geiger kneeling behind him and felt the kid's long-fingered hot hands lying on his hips.

He healed enough during the interlude and he was still slick - so, there was just minor pain when Geiger shoved his cock inside him. It was also easier because it was not done with hatred this time, without vicious twists and thrusts, not to bring him as much pain as possible.

He relaxed consciously, letting Geiger's cock thrust inside him without resistance. It could be like that, too, he remembered it. No pain, just mildly unpleasant feeling of being filled as another customer penetrated him, sliding smoothly in his well-wetted ass, sperm of the previous ones leaking sticky and cold on his thighs, just his knees cramping after the whole day in this position.

But now the hands on his hips were not cold or cruel - they were hot and moved minutely, as if patting him in a weird kind of consolation, faster and faster in unison with the strokes of the cock inside him. Suddenly he heard Geiger's voice over him, soft and whispering messily some meaningless words of approaching orgasm:

"Yes, yes, please, yes..."

Geiger gasped when coming, his palms stopped moving as he froze behind Methos for several seconds, his breath exhausted. He stayed like this for a minute or two, even when his limp cock slid out of Methos' opening. At last he got up. Methos watched askance as he exchanged some quiet remarks with Stern. What was the time? He wanted to know if two hours passed but there was not clock anywhere around and his own watch out of reach.

He caught Stern's glare at last.

"I need to clean myself," he said flatly. He thought about adding "please" and decided it wouldn't help.

"What makes you think we finished with you?" Stern stepped to him and Methos felt his heart sinking down weakly. So, they didn't finish. What else? He turned his head back awkwardly when Stern disappeared from his sight but he heard a clanking of metal, too heavy to be of a gun. Did they decide to forget the Stern, after all?

"No!" Geiger exclaimed behind him.

"It's not what you think. It's what he deserves."

It was not his neck the blade came to. He felt the cold tip pressing against his anus that was still open gaping. It was minutely cold against his sore tissues - and then blazingly hot as Stern thrust the sword inside him.

His body arched back as he screamed agonizingly. The pain was like liquid flame spreading through him, burning him out, deeper and deeper, until it reached his chest. His mouth filled with blood as his diaphragm was pierced.

"You are killing him," Geiger whispered breathlessly.

"Yes, that's what I do," Stern confirmed and then turned the sword around inside him. He might have screamed - he didn't know it. The agony stopped abruptly as he died.

When Methos came round, it was Geiger he saw. The kid was sitting on the sofa next to him and his long fingers were on Methos' face, turning it carefully. There was a wet towel in his hand and he passed it over Methos' face.

"We can't return him like that, do you want MacLeod to go berserk?" he snapped, probably in reply to something Stern said.

So, they were going to exchange him, after all. Good. He couldn't be exultant but he had to feel some relief. There was dull heavy pain inside him - as if his belly was bloating from inside. The process of healing was going on but the damage was too extensive to make it up quickly. He pressed his lips to keep away from groaning, turning his face towards the pleasantly cool towel.

When finishing with his face, Geiger took at washing blood from his thighs and he had to rinse the towel twice to get rid of at least the best part of it. Methos knew he was still bleeding, very thinly, a fresh trickle crawling down his thigh where the old blood was washed off. But it had to take only minutes to stop.

His underwear was soaked wet when Geiger pulled it up - and so were his pants. Fortunately blood was not going to be visible on black. The kid pulled him up by his upper arm and steadied him as he swayed. At that moment Stern stepped towards him.

"Good-bye from the watchers," his fist sank into Methos' belly, making him double in pain. He felt something tearing inside him and the bleeding became slightly stronger.

"It was not necessary at all," Geiger said with heart, straightening him again - and Methos found himself leaning to him as if trying to find protection from the new pain.

He felt dizzy and weak as he got into the car; if the pain was getting less, he barely could notice it. It was a relief to see that it was Geiger who sat at his side, even though the kid had an unsheathed sword on his lap. He looked at Methos' sweaty distressed face and suddenly reached his hand, the fingers hot and dry on his cheek.

"Still hurt?" he said mildly. "It's going to be over soon."

THE END

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