Title: Before the Exchange|
Author: Juxian Tang
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
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
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
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:
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
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
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
The pain of penetration made him gasp, long and loud. This sound had to
"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.
"Yes, you. I'll keep the gun."
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
"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
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
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
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
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
"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'
"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
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