• 1-Ravaged
• 2-Hole in the Wall
• 3-Of Bliss and Brutality
• 4-Darkness Before ThenqGn
• 5-...And After The Dawn
• 6-Reprisal

Characters: Duncan, Methos

Summary: Methos takes Duncan out for a night on the town with surprising results.

Key: ****** Scene change,
Italics thoughts

Disclaimer: I so wish they were mine, but alas, they belong to Panzer/Davis.

Duncan sank into his chair in the loft and breathed a long sigh. He had just returned from taking Amanda to the airport. The shapely Immortal lady always managed to leave him in shambles. She was almost like Napoleon. She came, she saw, she conquered, then she left. Amanda had said something about tracking down her new student.

On top of that, he'd had more nightmares about the dank dungeon. Thankfully, he'd been able to hide that part from his on-again, off-again lover. All he needed was for Amanda to stick around and mother him. A litbit bit of his best friend was more than he could usually stand. Duncan leaned over and propped his elbows on his knees. His head ached and he felt as if a pall hung over him. Why wouldn't it go away? Mac rubbed his temples and sighed.

Shakespeare waddled up to the Highlander and nuzzled his cold wet nose into MacLeod's left hand. The Scot absently began petting his black Labrador Retriever, his pondering still commanding his attention. He still couldn't believe he had allowed Amanda to talk him into performing a striptease at the Chez La Femme Women's Club. The dark-haired four hundred year old Immortal was nothing but putty in her hands. Not only had he danced in a tiger-striped, G-String, but the brat had cut the flimsy material in half, bearing all of his endowments to a room full of women and Methos.

He smiled recalling Amanda's 'punishment.' He and Methos had paid the aged trickster back in full. Amanda never passed up an opporty. ty. So, when she found out she had two men in bed with her, well the situation deteriorated from there.

Mac's thoughtsn ren reverted back to his nightclub performance. He wondered if he were more embarrassed by the women seeing him than he was about Methos' reaction to him. That didn't make sense though. Why would he care about Methos' opinion more than the opposite sex's? Methos was just a friend. Wasn't he?

As he was fighting off the gal that had grabbed his scrotum last night, Duncan had swiveled his gaze to Methos. The old man's jaw had dropped open and his eyes were glittering with desire. Then, later, during the three Immortals' bed play, he'd felt Methos' hands caressing his hips and buttocks. At the time, he'd not paid attention to his friend's actions; he'd been too wrapped up in Amanda's arms. "Do you suppose he wants me?" Duncan's face turned a beet red from the

memory of the whole affair. "Nah, he's not into male sex. It's all my imagination and those damned dreams I've been having."

"I'm crazy for even having such insane ideas. Sex with me is the furthest thing from my mind." He paused and then bemoaned, "How can I face Methos?" MacLeod shook his head as an even deeper pall of gloom and regret settled over him.

"Arf! Arf!" Shakespeare jumped up onto his owner and turned toward the door wanting outside.

MacLeod attempted to ignore the animal, but to no avail. He soon stood up and followed the dog out the door, down the stairs and outside.

For the next hour Duncan followed his pet and brooded. He again remembered with crystal clarity not only his performance at the club but of Methos having seen him in his birthday suit. Methos had proven many times over of being a very good friend. In fact, the five thousand year old ancient was one of his best friends. Duncan's brow furrowed even deeper. Friendship was one thing but sharing sex and his body with a man was entirely different. "I'm just not like that!" he exclaimed out loud, "am I?" he added with a whisper.

Ignoring the stares of the few others in the park, he whistled for his dog and departed for home.

Shakespeare watched his master swallow two more stiff drinks of the whiskey. The dog padded over to his corner by the bed and flopped down. It would be another long night.

By the third drink, Duncan MacLeod's ego had been somewhat soothed. Unfortunately, the Scot heard his elevator start up, bringing him a visitor. The Highlander sensed an approaching Immortal and knew it was his ancient friend. "He would have to show up now," Duncan grumbled.

The gate opened and Methos, alias Adam Pierson, exited the lift. He carried a sack containing three six-packs of beer under his arm. "MacLeod," he cheerily greeted.

Duncan glowered. "You have your nerve showing up after last night."

Methos tried unsuccessfully not to laugh and retorted, "It didn't bother me." He shoved the beer into MacLeod's refrigerator after removing two cans of the cold brew. He tossed one can to MacLeod, then popped the top of his and swigged his beer.

MacLeod opened the can and guzzled half its contents before he paused.

Methos' eyebrows shot up. "Are we having a bit of a case of shame and regret?" he observed.

Duncan guzzled the remainder of his beer and crossed over to his wet bar. "And what if I am?" he curtly demanded. "What were you and Amanda thinking?"

Methos openly laughed as he sat down on the couch, dangling his left leg over its arm rest. "Oh, come on, Duncan. It wasn't that bad." The Immortal leered at his friend. "Besides, you have a great body, Mac."

Duncan snarled at Methos and poured himself another drink.

The ancient silently watched the Highlander belt down two more stiff shots of the heady liquor.
Hm-mm, this might turn out to be another fun evening, he thought to himself.

Methos held the door open for MacLeod. The Highlander stumbled on the stairs leading to the basement nightclub. "Careful, Mac," Methos cautioned, supporting his friend's elbow.

MacLeod jerked away from Methos' touch. "I can make it alone, thank you."

Methos smiled a Cheshire Cat grin and thought,
Poor Duncan. Getting in over your head again.

Duncan and Methos sat down at the bar of the dimly lit room. A willowy shaped blonde, wearing a grass skirt, sleeveless tank top and lei draped around her milky white neck, slinked up to her two customers. "What'll you have, honey?" she purred, reaching out and stroking Duncan's sweater clad arm.

MacLeod leaned toward the female bartender. "Do you go with the drinks?" he flirted.

"Not tonight, love," she replied as she tossed her blonde hair over her right shoulder.

"We want the specialty of the house," Methos ordered. "You'll like this one, Mac. It's called a Mauna L

Their bartender walked to the far side of the bar and began mixing the drinks. The girl soon returned with two containers shaped like pineapples. It was a concoction of liquor and whipped cream, topped with a pineapple slice floating on its top. Two stir sticks with tiny, paper umbrellas complemented the drink.

Duncan arched his left eyebrow and cast a sidelong glance at Methos. "Just what's in this?" he asked, pointing to his drink.

The Immortal pasted an innocent look on his face and replied, "Just a little vodka and tequila and some other things. Try it, Mac," he encouraged.

The Scot tentatively sipped the drink. "Not bad."

A second door was in the left corner of the room. MacLeod supposed it was where the waitresses exited to the kitchen. The room even had a ceiling fan in its center, giving it a 'Casa Blanca' atmosphere. Duncan halfway expected Humphrey Bogart to walk through the door.

His bleary eyes tried to focus on where Methos had disappeared. He was immediately sidetracked, however, when a waitress dressed like the bartender, brought him another Mauna Loa. "Where's my friend?" the Scot slurred.

"He's down the hall, lover," the brunette whispered in the Scot's ear, causing a shiver to pulsate through the Highlander. "Enjoy your drink. If you truly want a memorable experience, just poke yourself through that hole over there." She smiled. "Lola is on the other side and will give you a treat."

Duncan's vision wavered. He tooktherther sip of his drink and stumbled over to the wall. "Lola?" he called.

"I'm right over here, darling," a soft, seductive voice returned from the opposite room. "Stick yourself right through here," she instructed, waving a loingeinger through the opening.

"Why not?" the Scot murmured. He reached down and with fumbling fingers unzipped his pants and pulled out his already blossoming shaft. MacLeod made his way over to the hole in the wall and shoved his member through it.

The voice purred, "Oh, my, yes."

Duncan moaned as a soft pair of lips settled around the tip of his penis. A tongue laved all around his slit and, much too slowly, settled over his shaft's burgeoned base. MacLeod moaned, "Don't stop."

The mouth forced down a chuckle and slid even further onto the man's rock hard length. Nor did it stop until it had completely consumed Duncan's rod. MacLeod's knees weakened from the erotic sensation of that luscious mouth sucking and laving and possessing his sex.
I need a chair, the Highlander thought. Lola's lips pulled at his groin hair, swallowing him, retreating and yet swallowing even more.

Duncan lost track of time and presence. All his besotted mind could focus upon was the unknown mouth with its moist lips and demanding tongue. He tried to pull away but a hand closed down upon his shaft, imprisoning him through the hole. Nor did the mouth stop until Duncan's nectar spurted from his organ into that wonderful, erotic entrance. The lips milked every drop of the thick fluid, only releasing MacLeod when the Scot's penis was soft and lifeless.

MacLeod stumbled back into the arms of his waitress. She gingerly lowered him onto a waiting double bed that somehow had materialized where the table had once stood. Duncan shook his head. "What's happening? Am I seeing things?"

His waitress caressed the Scot's moisture laden face. "It's alght,ght, love. We're here to show you the best time of your life." She grabbed MacLeod's sweater and pulled it up over his head, pausing to brush his nipples with her mouth. When the Scot reached up for her, however, the woman pushed his arms aside and proceeded to remove first his slacks and then his briefs until he lay naked on the soft bed. "I'll be back," she whispered and left the room.

MacLeod tried to raise up but the whole room floated away. He flopped back onto the bed with a "I must be drunker than I thought," and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, the door opened and another waitress entered. She was dressed in a grass skirt, a very skimpy bra tied loosely around her neck and a huge lei draped over her slim shoulders. Her arms looped around Duncan's neck, her long, black hair tickling the Scot's shoulders and chest.

"Lola?" MacLeod huskily whispered.

"Oh, yes, love, it's Lola," the woman replied. "But, let's not talk right now." She laid a finger over MacLeod's lips, then replaced it with her own. Her tongue demanded entry into the Highlander's lips and mouth. Lola plundered the now helpless Scot's warm, moist depths until he was left breathless. "Is it good, darling?" she murmured.

"Um-mm," was all Duncan could manage as his goddess moved her warm, loving orifice down to his chest.

Her talented lips conquered first his left nipple, licking and caressing and biting it until it was a taut aroused nub. Those persistent appendages then moved over to the Scot's right breast and repeated its demands. All Duncan could do was whimper under the erotic assault. 'The mouth,' as Duncan was beginning to think of it, then trailed hot wet kisses dohe dhe descending pelt of soft wispy body hair to his navel. It dipped into the center as if to penetrate the entrance his mother's cord was once attached to. She invaded his navel, moistening it with saliva and tormenting yet another portion of Duncan's body.

The waitress' long tresses tickled MacLeod's chest and renewing sex. She paused with a pointed glanced at his groin. Her teeth then tugged on the abundant growth of hair that surrounded his cock. "This has to go, love," she whispered and reached over to the nearby table for a tray. Upon it lay a can of shaving cream, a razor and a basin of warm water.

"What the...?" Duncan slurred and tried to raise up.

"No, wait, love. This will be an erotic experience you won't forget," she encouraged as she pushed the naked Scot down upon the bed of love.

For some unknown reason, MacLeod surrendered his body to her ministrations. He jumped as the cold foamy shaving cream was sprayed onto his groin. Duncan shivered as goose bumps prickled his bare skin. He felt the first tug of the sharp razor snipping away the curling dark brown hair that surrounded his penis and heavy sacs. The woman neatly and efficiently shaved away every follicle from the Scot's groin. She gently lifted his heavy sacs up to reach the hidden hair beneath them. She used extreme caution as she teased the erect rod first one way, then another out of the invading approach of the safety razor.

At last, the woman was finished. She took a warm wet towel and gently removed all the traces of lather and hair until the Highlander's groin was white, barren and glistening in the dim lighting.

"Now, all done." She lifted a small mirror so that MacLeod could appreciate her handiwork.

Duncan managed to focus his dimming vision upon his now denuded lower body. He groaned, but the groan was silenced as the woman's blood thirsty lips descended to his mouth. She invaded his depths yet again after giving the Scot another hefty slug of another Mauna Loa.

The woman thought to herself,
If I don't keep him drunk enough, he'll never go through with what I've pld.