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Vanquishing
By : pittwitch
Category: G through L > Highlander
Views: 2225 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
Methos hummed in satisfaction against her lips. MacLeod groaned, rolling his eyes. Mikayla tipped Methos’ chin, whispering into his ear. A wide wicked grin flashed across his face, showing slightly pointed, gleaming white teeth. He slithered out of the bed, leaving a confused MacLeod all alone. Mikayla quickly worked to distract him, straddling him, pressing her mons against the base of his testicles.
“Mikayla?” The Highlander’s deep voice brought the woman back to the present.
“Yes?” she answered, leaning so that the tips of her nipples brushed against his. His large hands encased her slender hips, moving with her undulations.
“Care to fill me in here?” he asked as he peered deep into her golden-green eyes.
“Sex, lots and lots of sex, at least I hope.” She grinned at him, licking her lips.
“Other than that,” griped the Scotsman.
“Well …”
Mikayla’s pause was interrupted when Methos returned with a dark brown bottle of oil which from the pleasant odor, he ascertained to be coconut oil.
“Oh, please don’t stop on my account,” the Viejo added, playing with the viscous fluid between his finger tips, completely unabashed with his penis protruding proudly in front of him.
“The demon, Andras?” Mikayla started hesitantly, tossing her hair over one shoulder to peer at the older of the pair.
“The one you vanquished, yes?” MacLeod pressed on.
“Well, he had … a plan,” she hedged.
“A plan?” MacLeod gasped as the woman multitasked by kneading the flesh between his legs with her thumbs.
“Yes,” Methos interjected. “Apparently he wanted our heads, collectively.”
Mikayla grimaced at him. “Yes, he wanted your heads, but he didn’t want to challenge you directly.”
“Come again?” the Highlander asked in confusion.
“Your dreams, Mac, he sent a succubus to torment your dreams.” Methos added softly.
“Hoping with enough turmoil, you’d go after your friend here.” Mikayla paused, holding her hand out for Methos, then pulling him close. “And he would not defend himself.”
“Bastard!”
“No, demon.” Mikayla smiled wanly. “That’s how they operate. Then, with you delusional, he could confront you personally, hoping you’d lash out at him, and he could, of course, defend himself, taking two immortals’ essence, and returning to make a bid for Loki’s throne,” Mikayla concluded with a half-hearted smile.
“So, what happened to the succubus?” MacLeod finally asked the right question.
“Nothing, yet,” the gypsy smiled, redirecting her attention to the virile man between her thighs. “We’re going to lure her here when you pass out from pleasure.” She bent down to lick his still peach-sticky lips.
“Uh, we?” Methos chimed in skeptically.
“You did offer to help.” Mikayla reminded him.
“With the luring, yes … much luring, I believe was your offer,” the immortal chided the gypsy.
“Yes, much luring,” she parroted his words, sliding backwards to impale herself on MacLeod’s shaft, slowly, bending at the waist to present a very pretty picture to the oldest of the trio. “Much, much luring,” she murmured in just begun satisfaction.
“Not to be too picky here, but …” Mikayla interrupted the Scotsman’s question with a particularly strong swirl of her hips. “Aaaaahhh, what, do we do with the …” he groaned, clamping his hands tightly around her waist to still her motions, “uhm, when the succubus gets here?”
“No worries. I’m ready for her.” Mikayla smiled. Methos moved in, dripping oil down her spine in small, tantalizing droplets that merged and ran together in a guided rivulet into the crack of her ass. He traced the oily path with one finger, until he reached the puckered hole she presented so tauntingly. Running the pad of his finger around the rim, he gasped softly when she relaxed into his touch, opening wider.
“Are you going to make me wait all night, Viejo?” Mikayla challenged him.
“Most definitely not.” Methos assured her as he began to pour the oil over his length, straddled MacLeod’s legs then pressed insistently into the willing woman with an evil-sounding hiss.
“Yesssss.” Mikayla keened. MacLeod groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.
Methos chuckled, “Boy scout.”
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