Disclaimer: The following story contains adult subject matter. If you are under the age of 21 you should not be reading this and it is illegal for you to possess it. If you read beyond this point, you are claiming to be 21 years of age, and that it is legal for you to possess adult aoriented material.
This is a sexually oriented work of fiction. If sex between consenting adults, homosexuality or therein is offensive to you, DO NOT READ IT! By reading beyond this point you are accepting homosexuality and adult oriented material willing.
This is a fantasy containing characters from popular television culture. (For fans of the show, this story takes place before Richie's demise)
Duncan & Conner: The Highlander by R.A. Swain
Methos sat in Duncan's office staring out at the main workout room, watching Richie Ryan, sans his shirt, working out on a bag, his muscles gleeming with sweat. As he watched, Methos shifted in his seat, growing uncomfortable with the obvious erection sprouting in his slacks. Ever since the night he, Joe and Richie had made it, he had been able to think of nothing else. He actually had masturbation fantasies about both Richie and Joe. He was just entertaining the spark of one of those fantasies when Duncan walked in and broke his train of thought.
"Where were you?" Duncan asked.
"What?"
"You were a million miles away. "
"Oh, sorry. I was just remembering something." Methos answered, his eyes still trained in Richie's tight buttocks.
Duncan caught his gaze. "What's up with you?"
"What do you mean?" Methos reluctantly drew his attention Richie's physique.
"I've only known you a few years, but you're not acting like yourself." Duncanleaned against the edge of the desk. "You're preoccupied."
"We can't all be you," Methos countered.
"If I didn't know any better, " Duncan continued, "I say it has something to do with Richie."
Duncan now had Methos' full attention. "Richie? Why, has he said something to you?"
"Richie? No. What would he say to me?"
Methos paused before answering. "Nothing. I just wondered if the two of you had talked about anything?"
"We talk about a lot of things," Duncan said. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"I think not. I mean, What would I have to tell you?"
"I don't know. You just seem to be acting like a...." Duncan stopped. He turned to look at Methos.
Methos looked up at him. "Like a what?"
Duncan shook his head. "Never mind."
"No, what were you going to say?" Methos pursued the conversation.
"Like a love sick pup." Duncan finished his sentence, and moved to the open door.
"What are you saying?" Methos only half heartedly offered defense.
"It's none of my business. I've been around for 400 years. I've made it a rule never to butt my nose into other people's business, as it were, unless they want to tell me what's going on in theri lives." Duncan stood by the open door for a long silent moment, waiting for Methos to speak.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Methos spoke. "Mind you, not suggesting now that I would, or have, but, now just stop for a second and consider....Have you ever thought about taking a walk on the wild side?"
Duncan's eyes widened. "You and Richie?"
"I'm not saying anything like that," Methos protested. "I'm just asking, have you ever considered...I mean, you are over 400, after all, it isn't the worst thing...Will you stop looking at me like that?!"
Duncan shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not judging you."
"But that's what we do, us head hunters, so to speak. We judge each other, and then we take the other's head." Methos was withdrawing on a tangent, feeling very uncomfortable about the topic.
"Some of us fight for what is right," Duncan said.
"Some of us take more pleasure in the killing than in the quickening," Methos retorted.
"Nothing, just drop it. Unless you've taken that walk, you can't understand," Methos said. He stood up and walked out of the office.
Duncan retreated to his chair.
Scotland 1684
"Conner, I'm gettin' mighty tired of practicin'," Duncan said.
His time distanced cousin swung his sword around and struck Duncan's. "I'm teachin' you this for you're own survival." Conner answered, shifting his stance and striking another blow on Duncan's sword.
Duncan withdrew his sword. "I'm quittin'. Where's the glory or fun in fightin' knowin' we're not gonna take each other's heads?"
Conner satdown on a fallen tree, and Duncan joined him. "So lad, what you're sayin' t'is you wanna lay a little wager. Would that be more to your fightin' like a man?"
Duncan shook his head. "You know I haven't anything to wager with."
Conner smiled. "Laddie, there's always something. We've been out here in the forest for the better part of a month, living off the land, bathing in the cold mountain streams, livin' without certain necessities."
"We've been gettin' by," Duncan said. "What more do we need?"
Now Conner shook his head. "Women, you idiot."
"Where are we gonna get women out here?" Duncan asked.
"We're not, lad. And don't think I ain't heard you floggin' the bishop at night," Conner said.
Duncan blushed and looked away for a moment. "It's not like I dinna' hear you doin' the same, many more nights than I."
"So why don't we make a wager, to reduce the tension."
"What sorta wager?" Duncan asked.
"We practice again. The loser of the match acts as the winner's wench." Conner said with a smile.
Duncan's eyes widened. "Are ye daft? How could we do that. We ain't got the proper parts."
Conner stood up. "Ye ain't said no. Does that mean yer sayin' yes?"
"I still donna' get it. How can we act as a wench for the other when we donna' have the snatch?"
"Lad, you have been with a woman, haven't ye?"
Duncan didn't look his cousin in the eye. He'd been with a few wenches, but he was far from very experienced. "Aye, I have."
"We donna' have the snatch, but we do have our mouths and arses."
Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never had done such a thing with any of the wenches he'd been with. He'd thought of it, but was afraid to bring it up when he was with them. "I don't know."
"It'll be better than floggin' the bishop alone in the night," Conner said.
Duncan drew up his sword. "Ye got yeself a wager."
Conner drew up his sword and the two men began circling each other. Duncan thrust, and Conner leapt over the sword. He swung arond and his weapon clashed against Duncan's. Another swing, and Duncan dodged behind a tree.
This match was different, with much different stakes, and Duncan was feeling ever so confused. He ducked as Conner swung high, and rolled away in the leaves. Regaining his stance, he fended off Conner's perry, and he thrust again, losing his balance. Conner was quick to pin him, his sword across his throat. "Looks like I win," he said.
Duncan closed his eyes and then opened them again. "Yer not gonna hold me to our little wager, are ye?"
"And why not? Wouldna' you hold me to it if I were the loser?" Conner asked.
Duncan shook his head. "No."
"Too bad I won," Conner said. "Now a wager t'is a wager. You wouldna' welch on a fellow clansman, would ye?"
Duncan looked up at his kinsman, standing there in a kilt and tunic, leather boots covering him shins, and wondered. They had seen each other naked many times, bathing down by the creek, but this was a whole new area. He watched Conner pull his tunic over his head, now standing there in just his kilt. He had a powerful chest, with minimal blond hair covering it. A trail led down across his flat stomach to the top of his kilt.
Conner reached out his had to Duncan and pulled him up. The two kinsmen faced on another. "Yer my wench for tonight. Now, get on yer knees and start servicing my cock."
Duncan looked Conner in the deep blue eyes. "Conner, I've never done this. I donna' know how."
Conner pushed his cousin down to his knees, and unfastened his kilt. It fell to the ground, revealing 7" of soft meat. "Lick it with yer tongue, and then suck on it as it grows."
Duncan looked at the hugh piece of meat in front of him. "It get's bigger than this?"
"Aye, and Duncan, watch yer teeth."
Duncan looked up at Conner, and trusted him. He leaned forward and ran his tongue over the uncut tip of the long cock. It didn't taste like he thought it would. It was soft but getting more firm, and getting bigger. It was almost two hand lengths and still growing. But the taste was salty from sweat, and sweet at the same time. Soon it was sticking straight out and angled slightly upward. As he put in in his mouth for the first time Conner moaned and shivered.
"Aye! Lad, yer gifted." He placed his hands on the back of Duncan's head and thrust forward, choking Duncan, but he withdrew and moved slower until Duncan got used to his rhythm. He thrust in and out, and Duncan seemed to be getting better.
Duncan reached under his own kilt and began stroking his own cock, which had grown at the sexual heat he was feeling from Conner. He was beginning to enjoy this. It was much different from the wenches, but this had it's promise. That promise soon paid off.
Conner pulled out of Duncan's mouth. He reached down and helped Duncan off with his tunic. Duncan Stood up and shed his kilt. Now both men stood again, facing each other, cocks rubbing against each other. Conner reached out and pulled Duncan close to him. Their lips met and Conner's tongue enganged Duncan's in a wrestling match. Duncan grasped Conner's cock, while fighting for a superior position in their tongue match. It was to no avail. Conner broke the kiss.
"Aye, lad. Now comes the best part." He turned Duncan around, and pushed him down to his knees. "Yer arse is mine. I'll be gentle, but yer to be likin' it. " With that he knelt behind Duncan, and spit on his already lubed cock. He spit again, in his hand and then stuck a finger in Duncan's waiting hole. Duncan bucked forward.
"Easy lad. This will feel great." With that he leaned in against Duncan's ass and rubbed his leaking cock head against the waiting hole. Duncan liked the feeling of it, but was still fearful. Conner was huge. Much bigger, he hated to admit, than himself. He gritted his teeth and hie felt Conner's massive weapon penetrate his arse. It was like a burning torch, at first, but the pain began to subside rapidly giving way to a new sensation. It felt good as Conner thrust inward, slowly at first, until he felt Conner's low hanging balls slapping against his own. This feeling was worth all the effort. It was also something he could not bear as his own cock grew hard again.
Conner reached around under him, and grabbed Duncan's 9" weapon. He began stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts until he felt himself building up. He knew it was about to happen. He withdrew and grabbed his cock, pumping it for a moment, firing his load across Duncan's back and ass. He moaned and shuddered. He then pressed against Duncan again, and reaching around, grabbed his hard cock and began stroking it faster and faster until Duncan shouted with release.
Present
Duncan stared out the window of his office at Richie and wondered if he and Methos had experienced the same pleasure he himself experienced with Conner so long ago. It hadn't been all that long ago really, he thought to himself. After all, the did get together many times since and have enjoyed the same wager.