Richie smiled to himself behind the cover of taking another drink of his beer. Usually he hated it when people thought he was as young, or younger, as he looked. However, every once in a while it was a blessing. Tonight was one of those times.
Actually it had been a series of one after another of 'those times' for the last three weeks. And he was *really* enjoying it. He just looked to young and acted that way too, he admitted to himself, to know what he was doing.
It was sinfully delicious. Adam, or rather *Methos*, (And wasn't *that* mind blowing.) was attracted to him. Oh, he hid it well, but to someone who survived the streets by learning what to look for, knew the signs well. He'd spent the last two weeks turning up the heat. Of course it all *seemed* perfectly innocent.
Of course it did, he thought with just a touch of amused sarcasm, *he* was the little red headed cherub. Forget the fact that before Mac and Tessa he hadn't exactly been living in the safest places. No, he wasn't sexually experienced...well, except for 'girls'. *That* was expected, especially being Mac's student. It seemed that what with his being his student *and* the two rather *public* incidents proving his ability to attract female sexual predators, made for the conclusion that he was strictly a ladies man.
Of course, the fact that he never bothered to contradict anyone's obvious conclusions sort of helped to foster them. That part didn't hurt his feelings at all. In fact it usually made life much less complicated. Then of course there was now, when it made it just *so* much fun.
He suddenly sat up straighter, the tingle of immortal presence humming along his spine. He hoped it was time for the next round. Turning to look toward the door, he waited, then grinned.
As Methos stepped through the door he casually turned to check out the bar's occupants. Their eyes met briefly and Richie waved in acknowledgment, then watched as the older immortal made his way to the bar. That man could *move*. He wondered whether he even realized he'd automatically altered his pace to match the rhythm of the music. Yep, it was time for the next round.
He waited patiently. Joe had gotten him a beer before he made it across the room and, although Richie couldn't hear what was being said, the two men spoke briefly before the other immortal reached for it. The stage was set, he thought, and looked down at his own beer. Keeping his head down, he looked from beneath his lashes just high enough to see Methos' feet and waited until they started toward him.
He absently rubbed his thumb and forefinger, slowly up and down the neck of the beer in front of him. Only a few times. There was no need to be obvious. He barely contained his grin when there was an ever so slight hitch in the smooth gait of the man crossing the room.
"What are you up to tonight, Richie?"
"Hmm?" Richie murmured looking up, then shrugging slightly. "Not much." He leaned back of the booth and took a long swallow of his beer. He cocked his head to the side as he set it back on the table. "Are you going to sit down, or do you intend to give me a crick in my neck?"
Methos smirked slightly as he sat. "Wasn't sure if you'd want the company. Not 'on the prowl' tonight?"
Richie smiled brightly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he replied.
Methos cocked an eyebrow at him, questioningly.
He leaned forward, as if confessing some great secret. "I've already set my eye on someone, and they're definitely interested. You joining me isn't going to change that. I've only got one problem."
"And what's that?"
"I'm in the mood for something...a little different tonight." He paused thoughtfully and watched Methos shift slightly.
"And the problem with that is?"
"I'm not sure about the response to what I want," he replied, relaxing back again. Only this time, he draped his arm along the back of the booth and half closed his eyes.
"You don't know her likes and dislikes, then?"
"Nope," Richie answered, not bothering to correct the pronoun. It wasn't *quite* time for that yet. "How would you find out?" He asked instead, watching the reaction that got, closely. He'd surprised the old man. Good. That was a step in the right direction. He almost laughed when nearly a full minute went by with no response.
His breathing hitched when Methos swallowed before answering, his Adam's apple bobbing up, then back down. *God* how he wanted to lean over and follow its movement with his mouth. He allowed that fantasy to flash behind his eyes and wondered what Methos would do if he *actually* did it.
"Well, Richie, I suppose that would depend greatly on just what it was that I 'wanted'."
"Was that a rhetorical statement or are you asking me what I'm in the mood for?"
Methos' mouth opened and closed once before he managed to answer. "Take it whichever way you want. But without more information I can't exactly give an appropriate response."
Richie straightened his posture and took the time to take a long slow drink, minutely changing tiny little 'words' in his body language. In the time it took to drain the last of his beer, he went from innocent youngster, out for a good time, to lethal predator. He hardened almost instantly at the other's instinctive, physical reaction to the changes.
It was gone almost instantly, but those first couple of seconds had given Richie at least half of the information he needed. For those precious moments, Methos' body had fairly screamed vulnerability. His body sang with that knowledge.
He leaned forward, more than half across the small bar table. "What I want," he said slowly, quietly, "is more...aggressive than the average person likes."
Methos sucked in a quick breath. "You want to dominate," he whispered.
"Yes," Richie hissed, drawing out the ess.
"Well..." Methos began, the paused as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "there are certain things to look for, signals that a woman will give you if she's a sub."
"Oh, I'm aware of what 'signals' to look for."
"Then why-"
"There's just one other thing," Richie interrupted, gliding gracefully to his feet, and slowly stalking around the table.
"What?"
Richie smiled ferally at the wary note in Methos' tone and in the hazel eyes. Richie vibrated with the feelings flowing through him. The interaction was thrilling, but the added adrenaline of this being home turf, where people he knew might actually walk in and *see*, added that extra touch of spice. For that matter, the fact that there was someone here that was probably already seeing added even more.
Methos turned his head to watch his progress and, just as Richie passed behind him, began to twist around. Richie clamped his hand on Methos' shoulder preventing the turn.
Methos froze, surprise halting even his breath.
Richie leaned down until his mouth was mere inches from his ear, allowing his breath to waft across it before he spoke. "You neglected to mention the fact that *men* give out those same signals," he said softly, allowing a touch of menace to enter his voice for the first time tonight.
He heard an audible swallow.
"Ah, well, yes, that *is* true."
"And I'll bet you didn't know, I know how to read those signals *very* well."
"Right in one," Methos quipped, his words light.
"Until now."
"Right again," he answered, obviously trying for levity, but Richie felt the shiver than ran through the older immortal's body, giving the lie to his tone.
"I'll bet," Richie continued, placing his free hand on Methos' other shoulder, "that you're finally beginning to realize that I'm not as oblivious as everyone seems to think I am."
Methos started to answer, but Richie tightened his grip.
"Right now, you're thinking back on the last couple of weeks, trying to figure out how long I've known." He took the time to savor the rush as the body beneath his hands shuddered again and the man's breathing became short and quick. "I've known since the day you reappeared. In fact, I've been seducing you. But then, you've figured *that* out too, by now, haven't you?"
Methos gave a quick nod.
"No one ever accused you of being slow, just stubborn," he said, grazing his teeth lightly over the earlobe dangling so enticingly close; then he waited.
Methos gasped quietly, but didn't otherwise object.
"Come on," Richie ordered, dropping his hands and heading for the exit. Opening the door, he held it open and looked back at the unmoving immortal who was staring back at him. He waited.
At long last Methos rose and slowly made his way toward him. To Richie's eye, it appeared his legs didn't, quite, want to support him.
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