Standard disclaimers: This is a work of fanfiction. (Okay, fan poetry. :) Methos and Duncan, along with any other Highlander characters, locations, and backstory, belong to Davis Panzer Productions, not me. No profit is being made or sought.
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Rating: It's a bit hard to a rate a poem, but to be safe I'll go with an R for male/male sexy slashy literary allusions. If you don't like this sort of thing, OR it is illegal for you to read for ANY REASON, YOU MUST LEAVE NOW.
Author Notes: The Muse woke me up with this in the middle of the night, despite the fact that I haven't written any poetry, let alone free verse, in...much longer than I care to admit. As such, I'm rather shy and uneasy about posting it, but when I re-read it again this morning it seemed to have at least a little beauty to it, so here it is. I don't honestly believe this is what Methos would write if he took up a pen himself, but I do believe this poem expresses a little of what is in his heart.
by Genny (Genteel Rebel)
Please his ears. Laugh often
The low chuckle you know he loves
Tease him, cajole him, argue him into corners—
Fill even the silent times with the sound of your breath.
Please his nose. Cook often
Fill his kitchen with exotic scents
Buy expensive soaps and even more expensive flowers
Give him colognes he really, really doesn’t need.
Take the oil you used the last time you made love and rub its fragrance where he’ll discover it throughout the day:
the steering wheel of his car, the collar of his coat—
When he comes home, rub it on your wrists and let him capture your hands
Let him bring them to his face and breathe in the memory of what you are together.
Please his eyes. Put on an old sixties love song and let him watch you as you dance:
Feet swirling, hips circling, skin bared to his sight
Let him drink in the strength and the hidden weaknesses
Know that in his greediness, even ancient scars can become beautiful.
Please his mouth. Give him grapes and dates and other precious things
Caress his lips with honey, and then feed him on your skin
Let him taste your chest and fingertips
Let him worship the salt of your sweat with his tongue
Then, dissolving, become a flood
And let him drink in all you are.
Please his ears. Let him hear all those sounds a bitter world has named profane
Groan for him, let him know that he is yours
And when words become too terrifying
Cradle his head in your lap as he sleeps
Whisper “I love you” in all the languages he knows
Whisper “forever” in tongues dead to all but you.