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Quest, Reversal In Time	By : highlandgirl Category: G through L > Highlander Views: 1888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Quest, Reversal In Time

by

Frances Rolfe

Rating: NC-17, Slash, m/m

Key: ****** Scene change,
Italics Thoughts

Summary: Duncan is prepared to service Tezcatlipoca.

Disclaimer: Panzer/Davis owns HL and its characters.

Chapter 12

Invitation To Dinner

Present Day

Jonathan Nequatewa's never-ending chants and prayers were interrupted as a man descended the ladder into the kiva. He was almost as tall as MacLeod but his body was reed thin and moved with an agility akin to that of a willow tree. His brown hair was rather ragged and teased the edge of his plain white, long sleeved shirt. His hiking boots were scuffed and worn from long usage and the jeans, slung low on his hips, had seen better days.

Glancing but once at the buffalo robe shrouded figure across the central fire pit, he easily settled down onto the earthen floor. His penetrating hazel eyes met those of the Hopi's and he nodded a greeting. "Holy One."

"I have not seen you in many winters, Mica. What brings your trail to mine once again?" the shaman softly asked, already knowing the answer.

Mica's seeking eyes sought out the unmoving form across from them. "How long has he been in the Skeleton House, Father?"

Jonathan's knowing eyes softened on Pahana's inert body. "He has been there for some time, Mica, perhaps one month."

For the first time in Jonathan Nequatewa's long life, he'd missed the Hopi Snake Ceremony. He had no regrets. Nothing else mattered as much as did the life of the blessed one lying across the fire from him. In fact, the other shamans also devoted their prayer nights to him. Each one lifted up this brave warrior's soul to the Great Spirit. Time had virtually stopped until Duncan MacLeod left the Skeleton House and returned to the land of the living.

Methos stood up and approached the shell that was Duncan MacLeod's earthly body in this time period. He gazed down at the closed eyes, poultice-plugged ears and tightly wrapped body. The ancient tenderly laid the back of his hand against the Highlander's cold, clammy, lifeless cheek. He then leaned over and lightly pressed his lips to Mac's gray ones.

The old shaman knew without being told that these two men were alike, in that they had both lived longer than others. He'd always heard tales of one named Mica who'd lived many moons ago. He also knew that two men were close and that Mica dearly loved the brave Highlander.

Methos stood and settled once more beside the Hopi priest.

Nequatewa's wise old eyes creased in a tight smile. "You are here for a visit, Mica?"

Methos' usually impassive face frowned as he looked at his friend's lifeless body. "I will stay until he has returned to us, Old One."

One of the priests resumed the drum beat, and the prayer vigil for Pahana's safe return was again lifted up to the Great Spirit. All was silence within the kiva as they waited.

* * * * * *

12th century

Tula

"Pahana, spread yourself for me," Mica whispered.

The unfettered Immortal happily obliged, opening all four extremities.

Mica licked his suddenly dry lips and felt his own sex harden as he watched the foreigner's shaft rise from its earth as a stalk of wheat responds to the rising sun. His mouth watered for a taste of the hidden nectar teasing its tip. His nimble right hand grasped the growth at its root. He lowered his seeking orifice onto it and. . .

"No, no, please, God, please Methos. . ."

The ancient aroused from his fantasy dream and ignored his own semi-aroused cock. His survival instincts cast blindly for the source of his disturbance. Whoever or whatever it was would receive the brunt of his fury. How dare they interrupt his heaven sent dream. Muted sounds and restless movements emanated from his pallet mate. Mica's hazel eyes popped open. He saw the lad's head tossing from side to side, his moans becoming intelligible.

"No, please, help me, Methos."

The horseman rolled toward the younger Immortal and slipped his arm beneath the broad shoulders. The Scotsman's terror-filled, burnished bronze eyes snapped open, but Mica hushed him with soothing words, pats and a light kiss to the wide forehead. "You are safe, conetl; you're with me."

Pahana sensed the innate security from Mica's gestures and snuggled closer to the warm body. Mica smiled and tucked the unclothed, tormented form along his side.

It was as if he and MacLeod were mated. His shoulders fit perfectly into the hollow of Mica's. His head molded onto the ancient's chest as did his hips and legs. Even their cocks momentarily played tag before settling back to sleep.

Methos was now wide awake. Obviously, the Highland barbarian had crossed his path, but where? When? Methos soothingly stroked Pahana's bare shoulder and arm. He would know this voluptuous body, that luxurious hair and those wanton eyes if he'd seen them before.

The ancient silently observed the sleeping Immortal's furrowed brow and frown. Unmistakably, the stripling possessed many sequestered demons tormenting him. He needed solace. In that respect, perhaps the Toltecs could help him, through their religion.

Mica must have slept because they both reawakened shortly after dawn. Pahana hesitated, expecting the Immortal to demand more sex from him. When Mica did not say anything, he lifted an eyebrow in mild bewilderment. Instead of what he'd feared, they ate a simple morning meal of fruit and vegetable relish, washing it down with water.

The two Immortals then set out for the nearby forest. Unlike the modern day northern Mexico, tall, stately trees of cedar, pine, cypress and oak surrounded them. As they walked, Mica commenced explaining the Toltec Path to Light and Inner Peace. Mica could tell much of it passed through the Scot's brain without comprehension. So, when they neared a small stream, Mica motioned for Pahana to drink his fill and then come sit beside him.

"The Toltecs have three Masteries," Methos began his instruction. "The first is Awareness, the second Transformation or Tracking and the third Intent. Toltecs believe in having the courage to face and to know themselves and to make this a way of life." The older man paused when it was again obvious that his student did not understand.

Methos folded his legs and rested his palms on his knees. "Let me put it this way. The first hurdle is to identify the 'I Am,' your potential energy supply."

"Are you meaning meditation?"

"No, it goes beyond that. We shift our source of personal power from our mind to our spirit. It allows us to access a 'silent knowledge' and to create an energy to recall what we've forgotten."

MacLeod ducked his head, his long hair covering his face and muttered, "That's the trouble. I want to forget what happened."

"I know," Methos quietly acknowledged. Lifting Pahana's chin, he brushed the heavy mane from the sad face. "Try this. Close your eyes and be silent. Empty your mind of thoughts, words, pictures, everything."

Methos waited until Pahana had done as he bid before continuing. "Now, open your ears, your nose, your touch, your taste." He spoke slowly and succinctly, allowing his words to penetrate the Highlander's thoughts. "Absorb what is around you. Do not try to interpret any of it. Just assimilate the sounds and scents you hear, those you smell and feel and taste." The ancient silenced himself and joined his student in the search for Awareness.

* * * * * *

Both Immortals were uncommunicative on the return trip. MacLeod admitted to himself that it had been many years since he'd truly listened to the chatter of a squirrel or heard the rustle of leaves in a stand of oak. Not since his beloved Tessa's death had he inhaled the fragrance of wild flower or experienced the fluttery feeling of a butterfly as it alighted on his bare arm. Duncan hadn't grasped the intent of Awareness as yet, but he was more at peace with himself than he'd been in a very long time.

Methos' nudge returned MacLeod to the here and now. They stood in front of Quemado, the Toltecs' palace. "His Majesty, King Tescatlipoca, wants you for his evening meal. You will be prepared."

Mac's chestnut eyes widened. "Prepared? What, am I the main course? Is he going to eat me?"

"No, not exactly," Methos laughed, entering a side door to the palace courtyard.

"Not exactly? What does that mean? Methos!"

Mica ignored him and instead shoved the now disconcerted Scot through an open portal. Two women, one older whose temples were graying, and another younger girl not yet out of her teens, waited in the center of a small room. To one side sat an earthenware bowl with a cylindrical apparatus of which one end was small and the other large and funnel shaped. Off to the side of them was a container of water.

MacLeod immediately understood what they planned to do and started backing up. "No, never, no way! Methos! Come back here!" MacLeod demanded of the departing Immortal, all the while glaring at the two women who'd cornered him.

Methos returned but only to pop the recalcitrant Scot on his bare butt. "My name here is Mica, Infant," he lethally reminded Duncan, "and you will do as you are bid, docilely, or by force if necessary. His Majesty cannot touch anyone unclean."

Duncan, unaccustomed to confrontations with 'Death On A Horse,' was, for once, daunted by the old man's venomous retort. He therefore meekly dropped his head and allowed the women to lead him over to the pallet on the floor.

An hour later the Highlander sighed in exhaustion as his weakened, internally clean body slipped into a tub of warm water. Mac hadn't the energy to object as the women scrubbed his nude body from head to toe. The elder one started with his feet, using a brush and then a cloth while the younger one started with his face and shoulders. MacLeod didn't think he'd even been as clean as he now was.

Duncan's hair was washed twice with a fragrant shampoo. It was then plaited into a single braid, its ends secured with a tiny strip of gold cloth. Lastly, a sweet smelling oil was massaged onto his skin. No portion was missed, not even his private parts.

Only when the ritual bath was completed and a glistening Immortal stood before the women did Methos reappear. He paced around MacLeod without a word before nodding his approval to the priestesses. The elder man remained mute as he slipped a wide gold band on each of MacLeod's upper arms.

MacLeod perfunctorily shivered as the aged Immortal visually examined him. Methos closed the short distance to the Scot and rolled Mac's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another tremor streaked along the younger man's nude torso and he helplessly leaned into the priest's touch.

"Oh, God, Me-Mica," he gasped.

Anon, his pant was changed into a mewl of pain when a pincer-like bead was attached to it. Another like the first was clipped to his right one. The final touch was a huge emerald implanted in his navel with a glue like paste.

Duncan opened his eyes and to his chagrin, Methos' disinterest in the man before him effected a shudder that overcome the younger Immortal. One minute Methos was kind and almost loving, the next he was impersonal and cold. He was now more confused than ever before. His sorrow-filled optics averted, but then he felt a gentle hand lift his chin until he met Mica's gaze.

"I will not leave you to die in this city, conetl. I promise you."

MacLeod believed the soft-spoken words and managed a half smile. Methos didn't acknowledge him further but signaled the two guards wag oug outside the room to take the Highlander to the King. Mica then departed, not looking back.

* * * * * *

Duncan was led to King Tescatlipoca's presence and shoved down into a kneeling position. From his angle, he was unable to see the monarch, but the reagent's charisma stretched its tentacles into MacLeod's brain. He wasn't sure what would happen to him tonight, but he knew the Toltec wanted his body. Methos' comment that Tescatlipoca wanted him for his 'evening meal' could only mean one thing.

MacLeod swallowed his rising fear as though it were a lump in his throat. He hoped he could control his reactions. If only the king didn't throw him face down on a cement slab, perhaps he would be able to tolerate the Toltec's physical needs. After all, this was Tula, not France and it was a native mortal, not a European Immortal who wanted his body. He wouldn't enjoy the sex itself, not unless it were the eldest Immortal's, but he would accept it. Having made a decision, MacLeod kept his head bowed and awaited the king's next move.

Tescatlipoca slowly climbed the few steps from his sunken light room and approached the kneeling captive. In his thirty long years, he'd seen appealing men and women, but this one, undoubtedly, was the loveliest creature he'd ever beheld. The olive skin, darker than Mica's but not as dark as a Toltec's, glistened in the flickering torch flames. The flashing jeweled clamps attached to his nipples served as an hypnotic lure until the ruler could not contain himself any longer. Even the dark hair glistened like polished obsidian.

He dismissed the guards with a wave of his ring-bedecked hand before he approached the supplicating Immortal. Tescatlipoca watched Pahana boldly lift his luminous eyes until they met his captor's. The monarch expressed an audible sigh as his vision drank in the perfect form before him.

"Release your hair," Tescatlipoca ordered.

Duncan wordlessly untied the cloth and combed his plaited tresses apart with his fingers. The silken mass shrouded his face, drawing a quiet gasp from the king.

"Coatlique, the Lady of the Skirt of Snakes, our Creator, favored you, Pahana," the Toltec grated. "You are gifted with a glorious face and body."

The Toltec leant over and crept his hand along the back of Duncan's neck. Trailing it upoughough the Highlander's silken strands, he allowed it to cascade back into place. The king nuzzled the fragrant hair and planted feather like kisses behind the ear, across the sculpted neck and to the oiled shoulder. Tezcatlipoca smiled upon feeling a tremor inundate the sleek body.

Tes heard the Scot moan and felt him lean towards him. Drawing the slave up gracefully to his feet, he enfolded him into an embrace.
This one was never meant to be stretched out on a hard rock and savaged. No, his body only responds to gentleness and kindness, not brutality, he silently decided. The Toltec reached out a hand to the slave and smiled when Pahana took it and followed him to his below ground level room.

Nestled in the sunken chamber, the king's bed was covered with a thick cushion of furs and blankets. The monarch pressed Pahana onto the bed and spread his naked body upon it as if it were a feast. He saw how the cool air caused a ripple of goose flesh to pepper the slave's body and smiled. Sitting beside his gift, Tes separated the long legs and trailed his fingers up into the valley they created. He fondled and warmed the withdrawn, twin receptacles housing Pahana's reluctant kernels. In a short while, the thin skinned organs began increasing in size.

As his hand continued to manipulate Duncan's scrotal sacs, his mouth descended upon the lush lips. He darted his tongue in and out, dueling with Pahana's when he unconsciously opened both his oral cavity and groin further and further.

Tescatlipoca turned Pahana onto his side, facing away from him. The chieftain then moved the Immortal's knees up until he was in a fetal position, leaving the slave's lower buttocks and sex tools exposed and vulnerable. He then felt a frisson of tension course through the nude slave's body as it had the night before at the ceremony. Tes did not desire a repeat performance, so he began whispering endearments and caressing the broad shoulders and back. As he cuddled and stroked him, he at last felt him relax.

The king's hands continued to roam Pahana's form, first the shoulders, then the back and buttocks. The monarch's fingers dove into the furrow separating the dimpled mounds eliciting a slight shiver from him. However, when Tes' first digit circled Duncan's entrance and pressed inside, he saw him jerk and attempt to pull away from him.

"No, no, please, please no."

Tescatlipoca could not understand Pahana's mumbling, but instinctively knew the man was again suffering from whatever bitter memories he'd previously endured. The Toltec's heart softened and he withdrew his finger. Pulling the trembling man onto his back, he tugged him into his ample arms and cradled the now distraught Immortal. Standing, the Toltec reached for a cup of wine and was able to get him to drink some of it. He then set it aside and pressed his lips soothingly onto his forehead and cheeks. Tescatlipoca then rocked back and forth until the slave drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * *

A while later, Tescatlipoca summoned Mica to his quarters. He then walked over to a nearby shelf and poured himself a drink. He drank the first one on down and was sipping the second one when the priest bowed to him. The monarch motioned for him to follow him down into the bedroom. He silently watched the man's face frown upon seeing the sleeping MacLeod curled into a fetal position.

Methos shook his head sorrowfully and followed the Toltec leader back up the short flight of steps. He wordlessly accepted the filled cup of wine from Tescatlipoca and nimbly sat down across from him. "What happened, your highness?"

"The same as last night, Mica, not as badly." The Toltec settled onto a cushion. "I am sad for him. He is a beautiful, sensual man. To have been tortured and abused as he apparently has been is a tragedy." He took another sip. "Have you been able to find out what happened to him?"

"No, Majesty. He wasn't as bad as last night? How did you get him to sleep?"

"It was not as severe. He drank some wine and then went to sleep," he replied. "I did not get very far with him."

"I am sorry."

Tescatlipoca replied, "It is not your fault, Mica. Nor is it that boy's. The blame rests upon the cruel beings who forced themselves upon his beautiful body."

Methos was silent. He knew all too well that the Toltec king could order MacLeod's death in retribution.

As if reading his mind, the monarch quietly answered. "No, Mica, I will not harm him. He has had enough done to him." He glanced down to the inert body. "He feels comfortable with you, does he not?"

"Yes .I have begun his instruction of the Path to Awareness."

"Good, good, Mica. Perhaps our faith can help him want to live again," Tescatlipoca replied. "He is too precious to lose. I will not abuse him further."

Methos nodded. "Yes, he is, Your Highness. Much too valuable a man to indiscriminately toss away." Getting to his feet and bowing, he asked, "May I take him with me?"

Tescatlipoca smiled. "He will rest better with you, Mica."

The Immortal bowed and rose. He returned to the lower level and touched MacLeod's shoulder. The Scot whimpered, but did not awaken when Methos gathered him into his muscular arms. "Shush, Duncan, it's Methos. You're safe with me."

Even though he slept, MacLeod instinctively knew his lover now held him, because he snuggled closer to the ancient and wrapped his arms around his neck. When Methos and his burden returned to his private quarters, he laid him on a pallet and removed the clamps from the Scot's breasts. Methos then joined him, enfolding him in his arms when MacLeod turned toward his heat. The balance of the night passed uneventfully.

* * * * * *

--TBC--
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Quest, Reversal In Time