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>I passed a photograph of a zebra-striped bell tower, stopped, and said,
>"Hey, I know that cathedral! Sienna! That's where Methos and Alex felt
>each other up that night!"
>Literature really broadens the mind, doesn't it?

It certainly does. I feel now that it is my duty to go on writing stories where these two meet up at various culturally and historically interesting sites and indulge in some heavy petting. "See Europe with Methos and Alex!" Or would that be, "Europe on Two Blow-Jobs a Day?"

Sex and travel

"Where are we?" The voice that spoke was lazy and still full of sleep, and further blurred by bedclothes and pillows. When there was no immediate response, the owner of the voice administered an elbow jab, and there was some upheaval.

"I don't know." A dark head appeared from under the sheets, wincing at the flood of light that streamed in from the window. Sunshine raised brief red glints in the young man's almost-black hair. "But the weather is wonderful," he said glumly and vanished into the depths of the bed again.

"Hmmmm. It's not Lisbon, is it?"

"No. That was last week."

"Oh yes," remembrance warmed the first voice, "where you slammed me up against the wall in the wine cellar. That was a good one."

"Yeah." The second voice also sounded more cheerful. "But I liked the Algarve even better."

The bedclothes rustled, and there was a squeak, as of someone having a sensitive spot pinched. "Easy for you to say, you weren't the one picking sand out of your—"

"No, but out of your— Ow!" This time the motion was violent enough to make the bedsprings squeak as well. "Hey, do that again."

"Kinky brat."

"You say that as if it were a surprise." The dark head reappeared again, the motion part of a long leisurely stretch, and after a moment was joined by a second. "Once someone has given you a blow job in one of the confessionals of St Peters..."

"We're not still in Rome, are we?"

"Don't think so." Alex Krycek grinned. "We left in a hurry after that scene in the Forum. German tourists can be so pushy. It could be Greece. It's very sunny."

"I'm pretty sure we were in Athens," Methos offered. "I distinctly remember getting fucked in the vicinity of the Parthenon."

"I'm sure you do, but was I involved?" Alex laughed and rolled away from the next pinch. He squinted towards the window but saw nothing but blue sky. "The south of France?"

"Carrots," Methos said darkly.

"Oh. Right."

"I was thinking recently about Barcelona. The Sagrada Familia."

"Yeah, we haven't done it there, have we?" Alex rolled back again and snuggled in closer. "Could be fun."

Methos smiled. "We haven't done it here either," he pointed out.

"Wherever here is." Alex paused. "Or do you mean, in a bed? We did that once..."

"And we couldn't repeat ourselves, of course."

"No." Alex was starting to look rather dreamy-eyed, as Methos' hands wandered under the covers. "Well."

"I won't tell anyone," Methos promised. "And we can leave it out of the book."

"All right." Alex sighed in growing pleasure. "You'll have to introduce me to your editor one day. 'Sex in public places — the budget travel guide.' What a concept. Just remember I don't want co-author credit."

"You," Methos said, mouth going where his hands had been, "are merely an item required for performing the necessary research."

"Mm. Try researching a little more to the left, okay?" The bedclothes shifted again. "Oh. Oh yes. Methos?"


"Where the hell are we?"

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