DISCLAIMER - Highlander and its characters is the copyright of Rysher and Panzer/Davis Productions and no infringement is intended. The story, such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan February 2001.

Silliness alert!!

For Margaret - happy birthday! ;-)


by Karen Colohan

The Horsemen's Camp, Bronze Age

Caspian negligently tossed aside the half-chewed human thigh bone he had been gnawing on and surveyed the short, ill-dressed slave who prostrated herself at his feet. Her hair was dark and tangled, but her perfectly manicured fingernails were painted in a shade of blue that would coordinate with his tattoos delightfully. Her whining was becoming tiresome, but Caspian was sure he could find plenty of entertaining ways to keep her mouth otherwise occupied - and those nails would make quite a prize...

And speaking of tiresome whining....

"Oh, Caspian, Caspian, I beg you - take me as your personal body slave; I'll do anything for you," she moaned desperately.

"But why do you want to leave Kronos' service?" he growled suspiciously. Caspian might be insane, but he wasn't mad enough to provoke his Brother's wrath unnecessarily. He remembered too well how Methos had been punished for favouring Cassandra's manicure over Kronos'.

"I want to serve a real man," she sobbed pitifully. Kronos promised so much, but...."

"Yes?" Caspian leaned forward, eager to learn of any dirt which he might use to strengthen his position within the Horsemen's camp.

"When I first saw the - apparent - size of Kronos' sword I believed I had found myself in the service of a great leader," the slave continued, her eyes wide and doe-like as they gazed upon Caspian. "But outward appearances can be deceptive... and so it proved in Kronos' case. To be blunt, when his sword was unsheathed it proved to be... disappointing. I have rarely seen anything so small. He could never satisfy my needs. You, on the other hand, oh great Caspian...." she simpered.

Caspian grinned broadly. He had always suspected as much. Kronos spent far too much time in Methos' company than was seemly for a real man. And now he had the confirmation he needed. Yes, he would keep this slave as his own. She would never want for a real man in his service! Caspian stood, unsheathing his sword and showing it to her. The slave looked faint as she gazed upon it.

"Oh, mighty Caspian, take me now!" she moaned, rising to her knees.

"I will, but first tell me your name," Caspian promised, preening proudly.

"My name is Margy Sue," replied the slave, pouting at her new master.

"Margy Sue, eh? Well, Margy Sue, come and show your new master how you will please him...." Caspian demanded.

And Margy Sue went willingly.


"Methos, Methos! Are you listening to me?"

"Hm? Oh, Mac, sorry, I didn't notice you there. Did you want something?"

{Grinning} Where you're concerned - always."

"You're insatiable!"

"And you have a problem with this?" {Flutters eyelashes}

"Down, boy! Did I mention anything about a problem?"

"Well, no... So, what are you doing that's keeping you from giving in to my insatiable charms?"

"What, aside from giving your ego a much-needed break?"

"Don't avoid the question. What's that you're hiding there?"

"Hiding? Oh, nothing..." {Guiltily tries to hide the sheaf of papers he was working on)

"C'mon, let me see." {Grabs for the papers and a brief tussle ensues}

"Mac, tickling is a damned underhanded way of getting what you want! Stop that!"

"Ah ha, gotcha! Now, let's see what has you so embarrassed to let me see it... 'Oh, you big, strong stud, Caspian!'" {Eyes Methos incredulously} "'Take me, take me harder!!!' yelled Margy Sue. Eeuwwww... that's disgusting! I always knew you were a sick and twisted old man, but that's just - just perverted!"

{Shrugs} "It's all part of my charm. Now, will you stop making gagging noises and give that back. I'm on a deadline here."

"Deadline? What deadline? What are you talking about? And more to the point, just why are you writing that.. that... pornography!"

"I didn't hear you complaining last time I called you a big stud in the heat of the moment."

{Blushes} "That was different. Here, take it. But I still want to know why."

"'She who must be obeyed' asked me to do it. And, well, frankly I owed her."

"That much?"

{Looks apologetic} "Well, she did get me that great massage last week. And she did say it was a job uniquely suited to my special talents. I just had no idea..." {Pulls a face} "By then it was too late to say no. But I ask you, it had to be Caspian, didn't it."

"But why'd she want you to do it? Who's she planning to inflict it on? She must really hate them to do this."

"It's for Margy Sue herself - Margaret to you and me - you know, the duct tape one. Not very original, I know, but that bit was nothing to do with me."

{Smiles reminiscently} "Oh yeah, her... So, what did she do?"

"Apparently she's been dragging her heels and writing too slowly for her ladyship's liking so she threatened to get her revenge - and this is it."

"Revenge is one thing, but this..."

"Before you go getting too judgemental you should bear one thing in mind."


"Well, it seems Margaret hasn't managed to get either of us laid in months and you're playing second fiddle to a resurrected Kronos in the story most likely to..."

"Christ! She deserves everything she gets then."

"I thought you'd see it my way in the end." {Grins smugly}

"That still doesn't explain why you're doing this. Why isn't she writing it?"

"Well, she has several likely little scenarios on the go at the moment and you wouldn't want to interrupt the flow of great art, would you?"

"Hm, well... Do I get laid in any of them?"

"Let me think... You can have some seriously schmoopy make-up sex or there's a nifty little number where you get to tie me to a bed and punish me for the whole Horsemen thing."

{Brightens} "Really?"

"Really. So I hope you're not feeling tired..."

"Tired? Who's tired? Not me."

"Well, I could do with a break from bloody Margy Sue and her stud muffin." {Mac winces} "So, do you feel like getting some practice in?"

"Hm, it couldn't hurt."

"Oh, by the time I'm finished with you..."

"Promises, promises! But I thought I was the one who was supposed to be punishing you."

"Turnabout is fair play! Besides, I have the pen and paper, Mac - it can be whatever we want it to be."

"Oh yeah, how about this then..."

The Highlands of Scotland, the early 1600s

Duncan MacLeod the proud and handsome Highland warrior stalked towards his devoted companion, Methos. He knew how much Methos liked to be possessed by the braw Highlander; the secret pleasure he found in submitting to the other man. Standing over Methos, who knelt on the ground and looked up at him out of adoring eyes, Duncan slowly raised the hem of his kilt and showed him his manhood, hot and ready for...


"Oh puhleaze! 'His huge manhood'? That's even worse than the bodice-ripping adventures of Caspian and his devoted slave! You haven't been reading The Blade of the MacLeods again, have you?"

{Looks crestfallen} "I thought you liked to fantasise about me in a kilt."

"Oh, I do, but not like that."

"Go on, you come up with something better then."

"OK, OK, let me think for a second. Right, I've got it..."

The Highlands of Scotland, the early 1600s

Methos, the Clan MacLeod's new horse master, surveyed the son of the Clan chief, who was watching him avidly as he worked...


"I thought you were going to get to the good bits!"

"If you'd just stop interrupting me, I will. You can't rush a classy seduction scene, though. Now, where was I...?


"Was there something you wanted, boy?" Methos asked, as the MacLeod heir continued to stare at him. "I have much to do."

"I'm no' a boy. I'm a man, I'll have you know," Duncan insisted indignantly at the implied slight to his manhood. "I'll best you with a sword if you've the courage to try me." He stood his ground proudly, tossing his glossy, raven-dark hair back from his face.


"Oooh, I like the sound of that. And see, you're writing about my manhood too."

{Sighs deeply} "Mac..."

"Sorry, do go on."


Methos straightened and turned to look at the youth more intently. His eyes marked the length of his limbs and the strength of the muscles under the tanned skin. Truly, this was no boy, and Methos liked what he saw.

"Yes, I believe you are indeed a man, but I have no wish to draw a blade in anger against you. So, Duncan MacLeod, is there something I can do to make amends for slighting you - as one man to another?"


"There's always something you can do for me - man to man, so to speak - Methos!"

"Look, if you don't want me to carry on with this..."

"No, really, I do."

"Then shut up and let me concentrate!!"



Duncan cast down his dark eyes demurely, a little discomfited by the other man's direct gaze. "I don't know. I'm not sure if you would agree... Dare I hope...?"

Methos felt his blood begin to heat at the halting words. Could the young man possibly be suggesting what he thought he was? His cock stirred eagerly at the prospect. He strode over to the young Highlander and caught hold of his chin in one elegant hand. He tilted the tanned face up until he could look deep into those beautiful eyes. He had quickly learned how eloquently they could speak of Duncan's feelings.

"What are you asking of me, Duncan MacLeod?" he demanded roughly.

"I've seen you look at me sometimes, Methos," Duncan replied breathlessly. "And I know you've seen me watching you. I think you desire me. Tell me, do you want me?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"Then take me..."

"Here? Now?"

"Where better? At least here we have our privacy." Duncan looked squarely into Methos' hazel eyes. "I know what I'm asking for - and I trust you."

Methos took the Highlander's face in both hands and brought his lips down forcefully on the pliant mouth. It opened eagerly to admit his questing tongue and he hungrily sampled the delights of Duncan's mouth, until they were both breathless and dizzy with need.

Pulling away, Methos smiled as he saw just how shaken the young man was. He was nowhere near as sure of himself as he'd have Methos believe. Yes, this one would be a joy to master - the thrill akin to taming the wildest stallion to the saddle. He caught hold of Duncan's hand and pulled him towards an empty stall near the back of the stables.

Methos kicked a large bale of straw into the stall and then went inside, urging Duncan to follow him. He latched the door behind them, shutting them away in the sweet darkness.

"So, my young Highlander," Methos asked, "are you still sure this is what you desire?"

"Yes, I am." Duncan was flushed and trembling, but his cock had grown heavy and pushed insistently against the rough wool of his kilt. He looked boldly at the tall, slender form of the horse master. "I want you to take me, Methos."

At that, Methos drew the young man into his arms for another inflaming kiss. His hips pressed against Duncan's and he felt the heat and hardness of the other's cock, a mate to his own erection, which now clearly stretched the front of his breeches.

Equally clearly, Duncan was now aware of Methos' arousal and he looked into the horse master's hazel eyes wonderingly as their lips parted. "You really do want me."

"How could you doubt it?"

"To you I must seem just an unlettered barbarian. You may simply tend horses here, but I know you're an educated man. You have books, and I've seen you write in them too. Next to you..." Duncan looked ashamed at this admission.

"The ability - or lack of it - to read and write is not the only thing that defines you. You're beautiful, Duncan - a brave warrior with a proud heart... my Highlander," declared Methos with a passion that surprised them both.

Duncan eased himself out of Methos' arms and moved over to the bale of straw. With a smile of invitation he knelt and arranged himself across it, his backside raised at the perfect angle to allow the horse master access.

With a sigh of pleasure Methos followed him. He leaned down and flipped up the back of Duncan's kilt to reveal the smooth, golden skin of his muscular arse. He caressed Duncan's flanks, as he would have done with a skittish horse, to soothe him. Then, slowly, he trailed his fingers closer to his prize, dipping into the dark crevice and stroking the hidden opening.

Wordless cries and moans of pleasure greeted Methos' actions. Duncan ground his hips against the straw, desperate for more stimulation. Then he felt a single finger, slick with saliva, slowly breach his body and his world came apart. It was nothing like he'd expected. There was pain as his virgin muscles were stretched, but as the finger slowly moved inside him the pain quickly changed into the most glorious pleasure he'd ever known.

"More!" begged Duncan.

"Are you sure? You're so tight," cautioned Methos.

"I want it all - it's incredible," insisted Duncan.

Methos moved Duncan's hair aside so he could kiss the back of his neck. It was a distraction so that he could insert two more fingers at once into the Highlander's tight, hot body. Duncan groaned and bucked under Methos, but he held him steady, waiting for the pleasure to balance out the pain once more. Soon Duncan was pressing back onto his invading fingers, impaling himself wantonly. It was time.

Carefully, Methos withdrew his fingers, hushing Duncan's protests with a gentling touch. "Soon, my Highlander," he crooned, "soon you'll have it all."

With trembling fingers Methos undid his breeches and let his aching cock spring free. It was swollen and already slick with moisture at the tip. He gave it a few practised strokes, feeling how close he was to coming. He spat into his palm and prepared himself thoroughly.

Slowly, Methos eased the head of his cock between Duncan's smooth- skinned cheeks, letting the damp tip paint the opening of his body with its fluid. When Duncan tried to thrust back onto him, Methos placed a hand on his buttocks, cautioning him to stillness. With agonising slowness, Methos began to ease his cock into the tight passage.

Duncan moaned as the head slid past the ring of muscle. It hurt, and it felt so strange inside him. Methos had stopped moving at his first sound of distress and now Duncan whimpered again.

"Please, go on."

"Are you ready?"


With care, Methos continued, gradually slipping his cock deeper into the beautiful body beneath his own. It was hot, tight and wonderful. There was nothing quite like the feeling of a willing body slowly opening up to him. Methos had missed this pleasure. Soon he was fully sheathed inside Duncan and they both took a moment to adjust to the sensation, flushed and panting.

"Move, please," Duncan soon begged him.

And Methos did. Slowly at first, but with increasing vigour as it became clear that Duncan loved what was being done to him. He moaned and gasped, bucking eagerly as Methos possessed him. The horse master rode his new stallion with all the skill he had acquired through the long years of his life.

His hands slid under Duncan's kilt and round to the front of his body, seeking out the heavy length of his cock. Methos wrapped his hands around the hot shaft and pumped it until he felt Duncan convulse. Sticky wetness poured over his fingers and he gloried in it. At the same time the internal muscles of the Highlander's body contracted around his cock, pulling his own climax from him.

Methos rode Duncan hard and fast through the last few shuddering thrusts which let him empty his own seed deep inside the Highlander...


"Methos!" {Tugs at his sleeve}

"What? I'm trying to finish..."

"Forget the damn story! You win - you're better at writing this stuff than I am."

"Well, of course, I'm the educated man and you're the unlettered barbarian. You know, I think this is a real work of art... Mac, will you please stop pulling on my sleeve like that. What's the matter?"

"Um, well, actually..."

"Spit it out!"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go play Highlander and horse master..."

"What? Ohhhhh... Oh my, MacLeod, is that a curry-comb in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"


"Coming - I hope!"

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