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Now he had nothing but an empty bed and an uncertain future. Part of him wanted to give up, to return to the fantasy and have MacLeod in the only way he was every likely to get him. And part of him knew that to give in to these dreams now with his own past and the Four Horsemen standing between them was dangerous. Now he needed to concentrate on Kronos and the danger he represented, rather than losing himself in hopeless dreams.

Suddenly he heard a noise from the door and felt the intense pressure in his head that signalled the presence of another Immortal. Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"Hello, Brother." Kronos' voice slid out of the darkness and Methos felt the bed shift as the other man settled his weight on the edge. A soft laugh brushed against his ear. "Is that for me, I hope?"

Before he could answer, strong fingers slid between his legs and stroked his cock. His back arched involuntarily against the pressure and he was rewarded with gentle squeeze. The bed shifted and Kronos was lying next to him, his hand coaxing shivers of pure lust from Methos' body. When he felt the warmth pressing against him, he realized that the other man was as naked as he was.

"You haven't answered my question," the voice demanded. "You were dreaming of this, I'm sure. I wouldn't like to think you'd forgotten me in 2000 years."

"I hadn't," Methos answered truthfully.

"I didn't think so," the rough voice purred. "Have you been dreaming of me? I hadn't realized you were so...anxious...to complete our reunion."

Methos remembered the scenes in the power station vividly. Once his body had completely healed from the knife wound, Kronos had moved in with a very different assault in mind. He had made his intentions very clear. If Methos agreed to join him, he wanted to resume their physical partnership as well. Methos had been forced to agree and even to feign enthusiasm for the embrace Kronos forced on him. When he had left the other man brooding in the abandoned building, he had had no intention of returning to fulfill his bargain.

He hadn't counted on the scene with MacLeod which had changed his plans. When he had chosen to return to Kronos, he had known what would be necessary. And he had paid the price for his decision on his knees, forced to "prove" his loyalty until the pleasure he offered almost tempted the other man to overlook his attempted betrayal.

Fingernails scraped against his skin, leaving a trail of fire somewhere between pleasure and pain. The sensation dragged his attention back to his bedmate.

"What are you thinking about?" That suspicion was also familiar from the past.

Opening his eyes, Methos searched the night-shadowed face in front of him. "You," he promised, pushing the memory of his fight with MacLeod away. No good would come of concentrating on that frustration now.

Kronos smiled with what looked like genuine pleasure. "I'm happy to hear that, because I've been thinking of you as well."

Leaning closer, he whispered, "For a *very* long time," before he took Methos' mouth in a hot, demanding kiss.

Accepting the embrace, Methos was disturbed again by dream-memories of a passionate and cooperative young Highlander. The hand locked around his erection settled into a slick, satisfying rhythm but when he closed his eyes, the touch became Macleod's and the tongue exploring his mouth was sweetened with the memory of ancient wine.

He began thrusting mindlessly against the stroking, feeling the pleasure building and starting to spill over inside of him. Echoes of the Highlander's voice rang in his mind and glimpses of the dark, hot eyes burned in his brain.

"Don't stop." MacLeod, insubstantial but tempting, smiled and bent to kiss him again. Warm, wet lips sucked him into their darkness and drew him over the edge, his climax flooded all coherent thought from his mind.

When the darkness receeded, he remembered Kronos next to him and felt, without pleasure, the hardness rubbing urgently against his hip. Turning his head slightly, he met the other man's eyes.

"You were not yourself tonight." The voice was rough with unspent passion and Kronos' eyes reflected his frustration and desire.

"I've been thinking. Making plans. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"Plans!" The suspicion was back. "Plans for your friend, MacLeod, no doubt! I have my own plans for him."

"I'm sure you do." He kept his voice flat and uninterested, not wanting to push Kronos too far on this subject. He would deal with the future when it arrived. Right now, Methos' need was to convince Kronos of his sincerity.

"And you're thinking of him now?"

"No." He denied the accusation. "Only of you." Rolling over, he took Kronos' erection into his hand, stroking gently until he was rewarded with a satisfied sigh.

"I hope your plan is a good one. I wouldn't want you confusing me with someone else."

"You aren't that easy to forget." Methos kissed him briefly, almost enjoying the easy response. Unlike MacLeod's nervous reaction to his physical proximity, Kronos had always been eager to indulge his desire for Methos.

Kronos began to rock against his hand, breathing deeply. "That's right. Do you ever forget anything?"

"I remember what's important, Methos replied, struggling to banish the memory of his dreams. "Let me show you." He slid down to let his lips and tongue replace his hand.

Kronos made a sound of surprise and Methos knew what he was thinking. He also remembered the cold cement floor against his knees and Kronos' voice full of threats and lust. One firm hand had been holding him close to let the swollen cock fill his mouth and the other holding the knife blade against his throat.

Kneeling, he pushed Kronos onto his back and bent to give him what he expected. Closing his eyes, he remembered Duncan MacLeod's eyes, dark with pleasure. With his hands he stroked the base of the shaft and cupped the sensitive balls. His teeth and lips played against the hardness, nibbling and licking until he pulled the head into his throat and sucked, letting his muscles clamp around the invader. In his dream, MacLeod cried out in concert with his bedmate as the invader forced itself deep into his mouth and hot, salty liquid spurted against his throat.

Behind his closed eyes he could feel the dampness of unshed tears. Between what he wanted and what the night had given him was a gulf 3,000 years wide. And he didn't see any way to cross that gap as long as Kronos and MacLeod stood on opposite ends of the abyss.

*****

The End