British Library, St Pancras, London.
Cassandra sighed and rolled her shoulders tiredly. She'd spent days in this place researching in depth into the practices of Druidic magic. Research was a great tool she knew but at this moment she really felt she'd had enough of it. At least the practices she'd discovered information about were somewhat familiar to her. There were many similarities to those practices she had been taught by Hijad before she became immortal. Even knowing that she had made progress in her search did not alleviate the fatigue she felt. How did Methos stand to spend so long pursuing study? She felt she'd had enough of it to last a lifetime, but he had spent thousands of years in such activities by all accounts. She'd watched him for several months at The Sorbonne before he'd left for Seacouver. The man literally hadn't slept or eaten in days when he'd been involved in the research for his doctorate. Once working on the papers and notes for his studies he'd seemed totally oblivious to the outside world. The inactivity had driven her crazy then, and it was infinitely worse now that she was having to do it herself.
Thinking of Methos only made her feel more tired. She had been unable to concentrate as she would have wished on the research over the past few days and so the work had taken longer than she had anticapted, thoughts of the ancient immortal ambushing her at times, it was only to be expected, she supposed, given the close association of Methos and libraries these days. If she had been alone she would have become more maudlin and depressed than she already was, thank the gods that Gerald had been with her. Thoughts of Methos had never been far away as she searched for a solution to her problem.
Methos. The man was a complete puzzle to her. She'd never understood what motivated him, now or in the past. The very thought of him still had the power to make her quiver with so many emotions, fear, loathing, tenderness, even lust! He'd been more right than perhaps he knew when he'd said she'd loved him once. Hate was just the other side of the coin. All she knew now was that she had unfinished business with the oldest man in the world and she wouldn't be able to rest until it was settled.
These thoughts drew her back in time to the time of her first death. She felt her eyes flood with tears as she remembered the sights, sounds and smells of the village. They had been a nomadic people, living by hunting and occasional trading in a time when the world, and she, was still young and innocent She had been looking foreward to completeing her apprenticeship in the way of the healer. She had also been looking forward to her impending marriage to Hijad's nephew, Adjam. They had been betrothed for a year and she had been excited at the prospect of being a good wife as well as continuing to work as a healer. The few weeks before their planned marriage they had begun to know one another physically and she dreamed of having children with her beloved husband to be. Adjam had been her first lover and would have been her first husband had the Horsemen chosen another way home from their recent battle. Instead he had been cut down in his prime, as had the rest of her people.
Sighing, she shook herself free of the memories. 'No need to dwell on the past,' she told herself it never does any good. The presence of her latest student had been a soothing balm to her soul. For that she was far more grateful than she had been able to say. Yet Gerald could hardly be reckoned as her student any longer, his first quickening had been several years ago. His continued support and companionship was a precious gift to her and one she knew she had at times taken for granted. She felt a guilt at times for encouraging him to stay with her, and yet she could not so readily relinquish the comfort he provided.
Gathering the papers she had been working on she glanced down at the last note she had made. It seemed that the authority most often cited in the archives and bibliographies she had consulted was none other than Dr Catriona MacLeod, formerly of Cambridge University. 'That could prove most useful,' she mused as he re read the descriptions of ceremonies and practices from areas as diverse as Northern India and The Western Isles of Scotland. Sighing again she leaned her head on her hands and took a deep breath. She needed a break, but she also wanted to be as fully armed as possible for the coming 'battle' and she was becoming more and more unsure that the direction she had chosen was the correct one.
Gerald chose that moment to appear form the book stacks where he had been working. He watched as Cassandra tried to re-focus on the research. Fatigue and frustration clearly written on her face. She looked pinched and drawn..even more so than she had done for the past several months. It was time he asserted himslef a little here he decided. Silently he moved to her side and tenderly reached for her shoulders, slowly and gently he began to massage her shoudlers, moving up to her scalp incorporating her neck and temples as in need of his ministrations. Cassandra sighed again, this time with pleasure, and leaned into his touch. Her melancholy mood starting to lift as the expression of his love for her flowed through his finger tips and was echoed by the tender gaze he gave her. He paused now and then to drop light kisses on her head.
"The Reading Room is closing in a few moments Cass," he murmured," what do you say to a full body massage and then I treat you to dinner , your choice of menu?"
They were close to finding what they needed Cassandra realised. She also knew they needed to move on from here, and the temptation of one of Gerald's massages and the thought of being pampered for a while appealed greatly. Smiling tiredly up at him she patted his hand.Gerald was right, she conceded, the more she studied here, the more uptight she became, the more uptight she was the less well she functioned, besides his touch was heavenly right now and needed as much of his 'magic' as she could get.
"Certainly Gerald, that sounds like an excellent idea."
He continued to kiss her and at each touch of his lips she relaxed a little more, finally he kissed her temple and nuzzled her neck.
"In that case let me carry your notes and let's go now, before you become welded to this seat." He said.
As they tidied their notes and resigned the books they had used to the re-shelving bay Cassandra said "I think we've exhausted the sources here in any case. I'd like to stop off in Cambridge for a few days before returning to Scotland."
Gerald nodded, "But not before we've had a break Cass...you are worn out and you need some respite. I mean it..you carry on like this and you're likely to make yourself ill, immortal or not.
"I know Gerald, and I promise you we shall take the rest of today and all of tomorrow just for us." She replied, smiling her promise up at him. Raising her head a little she gave him the briefest ghost of a kiss, before turning towards the exit to the Reading Room and bidding the Library Attendant a good night.
At the hotel Cassandra dropped to sit on the bed, all efforts at pretending she was unaffected by the fatigue that washed over her gone. Gerald raised a hand to stroke her cheek and gently coaxed her into undressing.
"Come on Cass, I can't take care of you this way, you need to lose the clothes and stretch out on the bed so I can loosen the knots in your neck and back."
Sighing but ready to comply, Cassandra lifted her hands to unfasten her blouse. It felt to her as though she was sleep walking and she had only a vague awareness that she was sitting here in London with Gerald in front of her, showing a quiet concerned at her lack of verbal response. It seemed to be a slow and tortuous process, this getting undressed, but eventually she managed to remove the last of her clothing and laid down on the bed face down. Her lassitude making Gerald more nervous but also more determined to ensure that he gave the best massage of his life. Cassandra was important to him, more than a teacher, more than a friend, just less than a lover in her eyes yet he was fully in love with her and woudl not allow any harm to come to her if he had any say in the matter.
Pulling himself out of the introspection he moved towards the bed and began to gently manipulate the muscles in Cassandra's back. They had often done this before and he found the familiar pattern of movement as he got more involved in teh business of granting Cassandra some peace and relaxation from the tension of the past few months.
As he worked he felt himself becoming more aroused by the sensual and supple feeling of the satin flesh beneath his fingers warm and send tingling strands of pleasure back along his nerve endings. leaning forward he planted a kiss on the back of his teacher's neck, and finding no protests raised he moved his mouth and tongue lower down her back until he reached the dual mounds of her buttocks. Never before had he got his far without Cassandra pushing him off and taking the lead. He thought this was at least a good omen and was just about to move his tongue between the cheeks when the beloved body suddenly surged upward.
His cheek stung with the resounding slap she aimed at him and he caught his breath at the look of sheer terror inher face.
"Cassandra?"
He repeated his call gently three times beforeshe blinked and looked at him, finally seeing the hotel room and the face of the man who had stood by her though hell and high water over the last thirty years.
"Oh God Gerald, I am sorry, I didn't mean to do that." she gasped.
I Know my love, I know," he crooned, 'Where were you?"
It was a question he had often wanted to ask but never dared, now he felt the time was right, Cassndra had allowed him further inside her thoughts than any other person since Duncan MacLeod, and now he was determined to get her to open up finally to him and admit why she had such problems with their relationship.
Instead of answering him however, she merely began to stroke his chest through his shirt and stopped to swirl her hand in circles along his flank and up across his right nipple. He drew in a breath and felt his control waivering. He could ask her again later, but now he was willing to give in to his baser desires. Shrugging out of his clothing he lay down on the bed beside Cassandra and allowed her to bring his arousal to a peak, to a point where he could not have told you his name nor uttered one single syllable which made any sense, his brain was melting and he cared nothing about it. The body's natural and automatic responses took over until he was no more than a male animal waiting to have the desire flaming in his pulse fanned and fed by the touch of the wondeful women who controlled his every motion and thought....and the desire was fanned and fed until he thought he would explode from the sheer sensation his body registered.
Cassandra writhed above him, twisting her hips and pounding against him. He tried to reach her, caress her breasts, but she caught his hands in a firm grasp - her long nails digging into his wrists, the pressure drawing blood. Nonetheless, even in this helpless position, Gerald felt himself approaching orgasm. Cassandra's beautiful body moved sensuously above him and with a final undulation she came, shuddering and gasping, never letting go of his wrists - ignorant of the blood streaming from the puncture wounds caused by her nails. As she shuddered to completion Gerald felt his own orgasm rip through him, but unable to move and revel in the sensation he soon found himself feeling empty, with an unsatisfied ache in his groin though thoroughly out of breath as his body tried to re-acclimatise itself to the post-orgasmic world.
Their usual practise following climax, was to twine themselves in each other's arms. This time, however, Cassandra pushed Gerald away and rose, leaving him, cooling sweat rapidly drying on his body, whilst she went to the bathroom to shower. A feeling of de-ja-vu swept over Gerald as he lay trying to catch his breath and watching the cuts on his wrists as they healed. It had been such a long time since this had happened that it took a while for the memory to register.
During the first few weeks of their relationship this had been a pattern with them, no moves were allowed to be initiated by Gerald. All such attempts were met with violent refusal - even the most gentle approach, a kiss, a soft touch to the shoulder of the arm, was met with a hiss and a slap or,on one memorable occasion, a clawed face which - had he still been mortal - would have left serious scarring around the right eye and cheek. Lately though their relationship had been much less of a minefield to tread carefully in. Cassandra had seemed more relaxed about the whole thing - even allowing Gerald to make the first move at times. It seemed though, that since her return from Bordeaux she had been more like the skittish, angry woman he had first known. Her renewed acquaintance with the Horsemen had destroyed the spark of selff confidence he had seen in her. Her obsession over these last months in finding a way to avenge herself on Methos had occupied her during her waking and sleeping moments to the exclusion of almost everything else. That this had now meant a return to the old pattern of 'love' making worried him more than he could say. It almost made him want revenge on Methos for himself.
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