Disclaimer: Characters from the television series Highlander are owned by RPD Productions. Used without permission.
Notes: In canon, set just before the episode Methos.

Strictly for Kicks
Jay Tryfanstone

Chocolate’s a cliché, and virgins went south with the dodo. The last set of chains fitted tyres, not flesh: there’s a certain ease to be found on your knees, but most of it’s just window dressing. Porn’s a music hall toy: it was fun, for a while, but when all’s said and done one cum shot’s the same as the next. Only servants eat oysters. Silk’s a nightmare to wash: roll over, hips up, this towel’s going down. If pushed, he’ll admit to a sheen for the sloe-eyed flute boys with suaveolent skin, (for the orgies in Ur were the best) -though that one depends on the company he’s in.

Adam Pierson’s a nice boy, opens doors for the ladies, made love at eighteen when he got his first grant. He’s a sweetie, sends flowers, always pays the first date, never kisses and tells. Adam’s froth on the waves: Methos? - he’s not the shark, he’s the ocean. Adam don’t play with knives. Methos invented ecstatic castration. He’s done Amazons, rosepetals, pets: got bored with excess, did puta instead. Massage, tribadage, asses milk, honey and fur...Time out. He’s got old. It all palls with repeat.

Talking of water, baths always come easy, from togas to towels from the cellar at Macy’s, though there’s a certain frisset from bodies that sweat and his nose is a sensitive organ. Chanel No. 5, rosewater, blood: he’s a sucker for scents that suggest. Modernity’s changes were all for the best, with underwear, music and lube in a packet, but whoever thought sex aids got started with plastic? Adam thinks toys are a gift for the lonely: Methos remembers when Herms were thought homey.

Singular swiving’s a kink for the old, not exposure: it’s hard to pricktease when your bed’s full of knees. After Kronus, reflection proved sharing was bad: he got flashbacks, and fetishized twosomes instead. Rapine? He’s got off on the feel of a blade in his hands, but that was a sign of the times: the kick of a gun has the same sense of fun, but then nothing hits gut like the boom of a sixty-pound cannon. He’s a perve, he’ll admit it, the sound of a Harley makes his palms itchy.

For both of them language is good as a lover and the spine of a book is an invite to bed. Adam thinks Acquitane started romance, but Methos thinks chivalry’s dead. It’s fashion, like cleavage, or fishnets and flashes. He’d like to show them medieval Germania: now that was a feast for the podiatrist. These things come in cycles. He’s done men, women, donkeys, and all of them normal at some point in time. Love’s a modern confection: lust’s easy. Come with me. Let’s fuck. Mind you, times change skin to skin: by the year he’d learned not to pull out, it was time to suit up before sticking it in. When the bathhouses closed it was time to retrench. Caerphilly? Oh yes. Without men.

So Adam’s a good boy, wears boxers to bed: Methos is thinking of leather instead. But it’s an elegant ploy to forget what he knows, that he’s bored of things he has done without clothes. He’s run out of vices and wicked devices: chandeliers make his heart sink. Flirtation’s a toy for this elegant boy and death is just cherries on icing. He’s old, he’s too tired, he’s not got the fire –
Dear gods.
Did someone say liar?


Strickly for Kicks has been translated into Chinese by AT - you'll find it here.
Please consider feedback to the translator.