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Disclaimer:
The characters of Methos, Richie Ryan, Connor MacLeod, and Duncan MacLeod belong to DPP. This fan fiction is for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.
The Bet-2
Methos sprawled indolently in the lounger by the pool, sipping a beer. An occasional chuckle escaping his lips, as he relived the escapades of earlier that afternoon.
Ah, yes, he thought, those CDC'ers have such wicked imaginations. Such an elaborate plan just to see Connor naked! The look on Connor's face as he missed that last goal had been priceless and was something he'd savor for quite a while. And those bagpipes! Brilliant idea, Duncan.
Still chuckling, he failed to hear the soft footsteps and the quiet voice calling his name.
The voice grew a bit louder. "Methos. Oh, Meee-thoooos..."
One eye cracked open as he twisted his head to the side, meeting the twinkling gaze of one of the girls. "Something wrong?"
"No, it's just your turn to pay up on the bet."
Beer spewed everywhere as he jerked upright, sputtering and gasping for air.
"Eeeeww...I didn't ask for a beer shower." complained the girl caught in the crossfire.
"What do you mean, my turn to pay up?!? That whole thing was set up for Connor!"
"Yes, yes it was. But you're the one who said, and I quote, 'Losing team has to do whatever the other team wants.'"
"But...but..I helped you win. I was in on it. Wasn't for me missing that easy goal, it never would have happened!"
"Welshing on a bet, old man?" chimed in another voice from his other side.
Methos' head whipped around and for the first time he noticed that almost the entire clan was gathered around his chair. This did not bode well.
"Now, ladies, and I use the term loosely, let's be reasonable-"
"We are. You lost, you pay."
"But I don't know how to play the bagpipes!"
"Who said anything about bagpipes?" giggled one of them.
He definitely did NOT like the sound of that. "Really, ladies, this has all been highly amusing and everything, but I am not-"
"Methos, either you come quietly or we'll be forced to use this."remarked another one as she dangled that infernal collar from her fingertips.
"I'd do it if I were you. They mean business" interjected Duncan from somewhere behind him. "Remember the last time they used it?"
Methos shuddered, reflexively massaging his throat in rememberance. No, he didn't want to repeat that experience anytime soon. Sighing heavily, he resigned himself to his fate. "Bloody hell, fine! What is it I have to do?" he groused sourly.
Connor's infamous laugh rang out. "Heh-heh-heh"
����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� LATER THAT NIGHT "Oh, slave boy...I'm feeling a mite parched over here", said a languid voice. "And I seem to have no grapes." pouted another one. "And I have an itch right here." snickered another as she pointed at her nose. Methos sighed as he picked up the carafe of wine, leaning over to pour it into the upheld glass. He grimaced as a hand snaked up his leg, pinching him playfully. "Did you have to make this blasted toga so bloody SHORT? I can feel a draft across-" Feminine giggles of delight sounded. "That's not a draft, dear boy, that's us checking out the equipment." "Bloody hell." Methos muttered as yet another hand made its way up and under. "Nose still itching here." "Still no grapes." Tugging the brief toga down in a futile effort to cover himself, Methos reached across the reclining body in an effort to reach the offending itch. "Nice assets." chuckled a male voice. Methos twisted around, evading yet another groping hand. "I suppose this was your idea, Connor?" he sniped, gesturing at the toga that barely covered his chest and covered even less below the waist. Connor laughed. "Wish I could take the credit, but, no, wasn't my idea. All theirs. Seems we both fell into their carefully laid trap. Course, I suppose you got the tougher end of the deal, since you made the mistake of conspiring with them." "Never again. So when does the rest of my *team* pay up?" "Oh, Duncan and Richie already extracted payment," piped up one of the sibs. "Didn't you notice they're not around?" "Still no grapes here." Methos dropped a grape into the waiting mouth. "You realize of course, it's just a myth about being hand-fed grapes by a slave? I can remember one time.." And while Methos reminisced, the giggling, groping and merriment continued into the night. lahoffyCDC
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