boytoys

Boy Toys

   by
   Diana DeShaun
   March 1998

Standard Disclaimers: Rysher and Panzer/Davis Productions own the original characters. I'm only borrowing them for fun. Do not post, copy, publish or link to this material without the express permission of the author.

Warning! Rated: NC-17Same-sex sexual content. Use the delete key now if you are under the legal age in your locality or if that isn't to your taste.

Please let me hear from you. I appreciate all feedback. :-) [email protected]

Boy Toys

   Richard Ryan was in a particularly fine mood. Springtime in Paris brought the spirits of romance and adventure back to the City of Love. With a bounce in his step and a sparkle in his eye Richie was feeling very spirited indeed.

   Alas, as he approached the barge of his good friend and erstwhile father figure Duncan MacLeod, the glory of the day began to pale. The breeze that caressed his brow mere moments ago turned biting. The sun that had shown so brightly slipped behind a cloud. A look of abject horror pulled at young Ryan's face as he set a now reluctant foot onto the deck.

   The noises that assaulted his ears would've reduced a lesser man to howling agony. Richie was made of sterner stuff but he still blanched at the ordeal to come. Another step and then another...yes, he was certain. Duncan MacLeod was singing.

   As he slowly dragged himself across the deck, Richie's mind rebelled. Why did he have to come here? Why couldn't Joe do his own dirty work? And most important, why didn't someone come right out and tell Mac he couldn't carry a tune if it was in his pocket?

   For one wild moment he was tempted to flee. With his head insisting he go on his body half turned, longing for freedom, for silence. But no. As the familiar buzz of Immortal presence washed over him he knew it was already too late.

   Squaring his shoulders he opened the door, clamped his hands firmly over his ears and stepped inside.



   Earlier that morning the Highlander had awakened with a warm body pressing intimately against his back. Strong long-fingered hands were rubbing up and down his torso and he arched like a cat to allow greater access. Literally purring, he leaned his head against the shoulder behind him and said wickedly, "What did you say your name was?"

   The stroking hands rose slowly back from points south until they cupped his nipples. They squeezed once, twice-- then taking the granite tips between thumb and forefinger they pinched-- hard.   "Ouch!" Mac yelped flopping over in the bed to face his companion.

   Gold green eyes glittered above a satisfied smirk. "You're not quite what I remember starting the evening with either, MacLeod."

   Putting on his best stern expression Duncan poked his finger into Methos' chest. "Oh come on Methos, you know I was just kidding. Is that anyway to talk to the man who rescued you from a painful fate?"

   Raking his eyes over the Highlander Methos pretended to consider it. "Well... if you must know..."

   Miffed that Methos apparently had to stop and think about it, Mac dropped his eyes and stared at the bed. "Hmphh!"

   "If you recall MacLeod, the entire debacle was your fault."

   "My fault!"

   "Yes your fault. I was merely an unwilling participant in that date fiasco. It was only as a favor to you. And look where it got me!"   He waved his hands expansively around the bed dislodging the comforter and sheet that had been covering his lower body. Unable to resist a grin he added, "I've really been quite put upon you know."

   "Oh really! And what was all that rubbing and stroking I woke up to?"

   "I forgot where I was for a moment. Thank heavens I'm over it now." Methos placidly pulled the covers back up to his waist and settled back with a challenging smile.

   "Oh really!" Mac sputtered again. His eyes were still downcast but now they narrowed in suspicion. "Wait a minute! What about this?"

   Diving under the comforter MacLeod found what he was looking for. Grasping it firmly in his fist he hauled it up and out for Methos' inspection. Mac was determined to give the Old Immortal a good view of the object in question.

   By this time Methos was folded up like a pretzel. The muffled sounds coming from his throat might have been screams of protest but MacLeod really couldn't be sure. Just in case Mac eased his grip slightly and used his other hand to push the Old Man back down flat in the bed.

MacLeod's big hand slowly began to creep down to the base of the hot steel shaft he gripped. "Now then, let's consider the evidence in hand, shall we? You may not have originally intended to end upwith me but you are obviously quite happy about it." Up came the hand.

   "In fact, if you were any happier I would fear for my manly virtue." Down went the hand.

   "Uhn...Your manly virtue! I don't know what you think last night meant MacLeod but if you are under the impression...ah...ah..."

   "Uh, uh, uh..." MacLeod waggled Methos' cock back and forth as he tried to make his point. "You can try lying to me all you want, Methos. You can even try lying to yourself. But, it won't do any good. Eric the Red does not lie."

   "Eric the Red?"

Having the grace to look a little chagrined Mac mumbled, "That's what Amanda calls it."

   "ERIC THE RED?"

   "Nevermind, that's not important. The point is if you didn't want to be here with me, Methos, you apparently forgot to tell him about it."

   Again his hand slowly pumped up and down as the Old Man began to squirm deliciously beneath him. "Now Eric here is obviously in need of some attention."

   But before Mac could begin his mission of mercy, Methos had two handfuls of long Scottish hair in a merciless grip. Trying to look menacing while aroused to distraction was not easy, but Methos managed a glazed glare and growled, "Don't call it that."

   Not menaced in the least, Mac waggled his brows, pursed his lips and said, "Sor-ry! I had no idea you were such an old stick in the mud."

   "Don't call it that either!"

   Methos held his scowl for another heartbeat then he grinned and patted MacLeod's much abused locks. "That's better. You may continue."

   Mac's eyes narrowed as he realized he was being played like Nero's fiddle. Fine. Maybe it was time to change the song. Sitting straight up in the bed he covered his face with his hands and moaned. "No. You're right. This is insane! Oh my God! What have I done?"

   Methos shook his head in disgust. The man was an emotional yo-yo. Rising on his knees he reached a comforting arm around the Highlander's muscular shoulders. "Come on now, MacLeod. It's not that big of a deal. We just got a little carried away... It was just a little harmless fun. Mac?"

   Suddenly Methos found himself pinned to the mattress by what felt like a two hundred pound rock. Looking positively devilish MacLeod leaned in to murmur into the Old Immortal's ear, "It was fun, wasn't it?"

   Feigning indignation at Mac's turnabout, the ancient Immortal compressed his lips and refused to answer.

   Grabbing Methos' wrists and placing them up near his head, MacLeod proceeded to raise himself off the other man.   He just stayed there suspended over the Old Guy.   Methos directed a puzzled frown at the Highlander but remained silent. Suddenly Mac dropped back down onto him with enough force to push the air out of his lungs. "Oomph."

   Lowering his mouth to Methos', Duncan flicked a tongue across the stubborn line of the Old Man's lips. No response.

   MacLeod raised himself again. Dropped himself again. "Oomph."

   This time he nipped at the other Immortal's lower lip. A shudder rippled through the body pressed beneath his but still the lips remained unmoved.

   Up again. Down again. Up again. Down again. With each new assault Mac added another weapon to his arsenal until Methos' eyes began to glaze either from passion... or lack of oxygen.

   Finally MacLeod paused above his victim. "Admit it, Old Man. It was fun."

   In answer Methos thrust his pelvis up and ground it into MacLeod's. Mac gasped as his arms suddenly lost all strength and he crashed back down onto the other man.

   Smiling with smug superiority Methos brushed his lips against the younger Immortal's. "You win Highlander. It was fun. In fact..." He pressed his erection more strongly against Duncan's. "...it was so much fun I can hardly wait to do it again."

   "Me either." This time when MacLeod lowered his mouth to the Old Immortal's, eager lips met his own.

   All thoughts of teasing and play fled as Mac totally gave himself over to the experience of kissing and being kissed by Methos. Five thousand years must've given the Old Man ample opportunities to perfect his technique, MacLeod thought in a daze as he found himself being kissed like he'd never been kissed in his life.

   Methos seemed poised to devour him. Duncan was more than ready to be his willing victim. Methos began nibbling Mac's lush lower lip. When he sucked it into his mouth MacLeod began to buck. Tendrils of flame began to llick up and down the Highlander's body.

   Last night had been pretty damn incredible but this... at the rate the Old Man was going it would take hours. Wrenching his mouth away to gulp air, MacLeod chuckled low in his throat as he rolled over, bringing Methos to rest on top.

   Running his hands down Methos' sleekly muscled back, Duncan said, "I may have to keep you here all day."

   In answer Methos began to trail his lips around the bronze column of Mac's neck. But just as he reached the sensitive skin behind MacLeod's ear he froze. "All day...oh gods! What time is it?" he yelped, leaping off a very startled Highlander.

   "What? Why? Come back here!"

   But Methos was scrambling around looking for his clothes from the day before. "Mac I'm sorry. I have an appointment at Watcher Headquarters this morning. I'd forgotten all about it. Look, I'll be back as soon as I can, ok?"

   He found his leather pants, shook his head no way and tossed them down across the end of the bed.

   Still lying prone MacLeod folded his arms across his chest, stared pointedly at the ceiling and said, "Whatever. Don't hurry back on my account."

   Shoving his legs hurriedly into the jeans he'd finally found in a corner, Methos stopped to stare at the spectacle before him. If it was possible for a four hundred year old man to pout like a thwarted schoolboy, MacLeod was proof of it.

   Shaking his head again Methos grinned. "You know Highlander, I was wrong all those times I called you a boy scout."

   Arms still folded, Mac cocked an eyebrow at the Old Man inviting him to continue.

   "You're not a boy scout at all." Methos launched himself onto the other man and proceeded to kiss the frown off his face. "You are a boy. A horny, four hundred year old arrested adolescent boy!"

   Grinning in spite of himself, MacLeod said, "And what's wrong with that? Haven't you ever heard the term 'boyish enthusiasm'?"

   Rising regretfully to finish dressing Methos assured him, "Oh there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. On the contrary I find it... stimulating. I had no idea you could be so playful."

   "I've always liked to play. I've just never had anybody to play with before who I didn't have to worry about hurting. With you... well, you might be surprised."

   Sitting back down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, Methos eyed the younger man speculatively, "You know, I just might at that. Tell you what Duncan, I have to go to my apartmentand change before the meeting. I'll be coming back by here anyway... There are a couple of things I could drop off if you're interested. They'd certainly give you something to think about until I get back."

   "What kind of things?"

   Methos leaned over the Highlander one last time and bit him on the end of his nose. Crossing to the door he said, "Things. You'll see. Every boy needs toys MacLeod. I'll be back." And he was gone.

   Expelling a long breath Mac gave serious thought to just lying there until Methos returned. Finally he heaved himself up. Surveying the disaster of the room he was even less inclined to while away the time doing housework. He concluded that his best course was to take a long hot shower and just wait.



   Duncan had been in the shower for a long time when he felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal. Finishing up a rousing aria about the Highlands he began rinsing off. More than a little curious about the toys Methos had mentioned he tried to hurry.

   Suddenly he heard a voice in the next room shout, "What the hell!" followed by a loud crash. Dripping a trail of water, the Highlander rushed out. Long bluejean-encased legs sprawled on the floor near the bed. From the waist up the body was submerged under a pile of sheets and blankets topped with a pair of familiar leather pants.

   Dropping to his knees by the shrouded figure MacLeod chortled, "If you're trying to play hide-n-seek I have to tell you. You're not very good at it."

   He began to run his hands slowly up the firm limbs waiting for a response from the other man. Nothing. "Playing dead are you? We'll see about that."

   Moving both hands up to the waistband of the jeans he opened the snap and ran one finger down the still closed zipper. He thought he heard a slight groan from the fabric mountain. Taking that as a sign of encouragement he grasped the zipper pull and began to slowly work it downward, one tooth at a time.

   Unable to resist MacLeod leaned forward to plant kisses on the slowly emerging expanse of pale flesh. When his still dripping hair brushed across the other man's naked abdomen, a shudder wracked the body on the floor. Another groan sounded-- louder this time.

   MacLeod frowned to himself. Something wasn't right. Methos was lying very still-- he didn't seem aroused at all. And, there was something else... something nagging at the back of his mind. His eyes raked over the white freckled flesh... freckled.

   A sudden sick feeling in his gut told Mac exactly whose zipper he was tugging on even before he felt the tingle of yet another presence. The door flew open and Methos entered carrying a brown cardboard box.

   Totally taken aback by the scene before him, Methos walked across the room in open-mouthed silence. He dropped the box with a thud. It landed perilously close to the now-moving bundle of linens and leather near the bed.

   "MacLeod?"

   "Methos? Oh God, I knew you didn't have freckles!"

   Looking a little green, MacLeod scrambled off the floor and into a robe. The cloth mountain suddenly erupted as a dazed and disheveled Richie Ryan sat up. "Wha...?" He grabbed his head convulsively. "Oh my head! What happened?"

   Methos knelt to take a closer look. "Hmmm... there's a bit of dried blood back here. Apparently you fell and conked yourself in the head."

   Hauling Richie up by the armpits, Methos plopped him down on the edge of the bed. "Do you remember anything?"

   The throbbing in Richie's head was already subsiding. His memory came flooding back. "Yeah." He glanced sheepishly over at Mac who was perched nervously on the edge of the table. "When I got here Mac was...um...singing." His tone beseeched Methos to help him out but the Old Guy refused to meet his eyes.

   "Er...I was so...um...I was listening to the song and not really paying much attention to where I was going. I remember stepping on something and grabbing at the bed...then nothing."

   Methos looked around the floor. Sure enough he soon spotted no less than three buttons scattered around. Remembering just how they'd wound up there, he grinned to himself as he casually sweptthe most likely suspect under the bed with his toe.

   Clearing his throat loudly, Mac finally spoke up. "So you were unconscious until you sat up just now?"

   "Well...I guess so." One hand fluttered down over his stomach stopping abruptly when it touched his open fly. "What happened to my jeans?"

   "Probably just popped open when you fell. You do wear them awfully tight, you know."

   "Right." Methos drawled. "I notice that all the time. Perfectly logical explanation."

   Richie was caught between horror and bafflement. Finally he just shrugged and fastened his pants.

   Snorting a little, Methos continued, "Look guys, I've got an appointment to keep so..."

   "Hey," frowned Richie. "Whose are these?" He was holding up the black leather pants.

   Methos froze as Duncan offered, "Oh, those belong to Methos."

   Richie looked perplexed as he examined them more closely. "Geez, guys. What happened to them? They're all scratched up like an animal was clawing at them!"

   Duncan abruptly jumped up and busied himself at the refrigerator. The muffled noises coming from behind the open door suggested to Methos that he was attempting to control a sudden bout of hysteria. Obviously no help was coming from that quarter. Luckily, Methos was the originator of the concept of 'spin doctoring'.

   "You're close, Ryan. Would you believe another Immortal did that?"

   Turning his frown away from the choking noises coming from the kitchen, Richie said, "Wow! He must've been a real devil! I assume you took him?"

   Ignoring the gasps from the fridge, Methos assured the kid, "Oh I took him all right. In fact, I nailed him into the ground."

   The sound of the refrigerator door slamming heralded Mac's return to the conversation. "Methos, don't you have somewhere you have to go?"

   "Right. Just one more thing." He reached down, picked up the box he'd carried in earlier and plunked it down on the bed beside Richie. "Here's that box of stuff you tried to give me, MacLeod. I have to tell you I'm shocked." He shook his head sorrowfully. "Very shocked."

   As if on cue Richie dove into the box while Mac's eyes widened in horror wondering just what it might contain.

Methos smirked as he hurled one more volley. "Oh and Mac? Tell Eric I'm looking forward to lending him a hand with that problem. Later." With that the old Immortal was gone.

   Feeling a hot flush creeping up his neck, MacLeod tried to shake off the image of Methos giving Eric a hand. Turning back to Richie he resolutely met the youngster's horrified eyes. It looked bad.

   Richie was holding some sort of chain and leather contraption up. Mac wasn't sure exactly what it was but it certainly looked... interesting.

   Noting the slight air of puzzlement in Mac's expression Richie shook his head and dropped the harness back into the box. "These aren't yours, Mac." It was a statement, not a question.

   "Well no. Actually..."

    Richie held up a hand. "Nevermind. If it involves the Old Guy... I don't think I want to know. By the way, who's Eric?"

   "Who?"

   "Eric. The guy Methos said he was giving a hand later."

   "Oh, Eric. Nobody you know. Just someone who, uh, needs some help with a sticky problem."

   "Come to think of it I might've heard Amanda mention him once or twice. Same guy?"

   "Er, yeah.� Duncan quickly changed the subject. �You never said why you're here, Rich."

   "Oh right! I came to get you to come over to Joe's with me for a couple of hours. He's got some new track lights and he sort of volunteered us to hang them."

   Mac didn't hesitate. In his present state of agitation the last thing he wanted to do was sit around the barge and do nothing until Methos returned. "Track lights. Sounds like a lot of work. Great. Just let me get dressed and then we can go."



   About an hour after Mac and Richie left, Methos made it back to the barge. He felt positively drained. Sometimes he wondered how the Watchers ever accomplished anything when they were so weighed down with beauracratic red tape. A forty-five minute meeting about filing all items in triplicate!

   He wondered idly where Mac was but assumed he'd gone off to help Ryan with something. So in the meantime... Moving the cardboard box back to the floor with a snicker, Methos quickly stripped and climbed back into bed. In no time at all he was deeply asleep.

   When MacLeod came in a couple of hours later, Methos was still asleep. Mac was a little surprised the Old Man hadn't awakened when he came aboard. He was also touched. Trust did not come easily between Immortals.

   Although he was eager to continue where the two of them had left off that morning Mac was reluctant to rouse the other man. Methos looked so serene. Kicking off his shoes and socks, Duncan climbed quietly up to perch on the end of the bed and watch the Old Man sleep.

   Noticing the box sitting on the floor, Mac leaned over and hauled it up into his lap. Talk about a boy and his toys! MacLeod wasn't sure he could identify all of them but he was certainly willing to be enlightened.

   Let's see. There was the chain and leather harness thing Richie had held up earlier. A small whip, an impressive variety of clips and clamps, assorted other bits of leather, some beads and... a ring.

   It was a smoothly rounded circle of metal. No carving, no visible seams, no edges. And as rings went it was huge. MacLeod found himself grinning as he wondered just how naive Methos thought he was.

     As he'd told Methos he loved to play. He'd just never been with anyone before that he felt truly free to indulge with. Women seemed so fragile. Oh, Amanda pushed his limits a bit. He had her handcuffs in the bedside table. But she'd always cuffed him. He'd never felt comfortable about putting them on her.

   But with Methos...

   Looking back at the ring, MacLeod shook his head and considered it again. It was certainly the biggest one he'd ever seen.

   Sitting the box back on the floor, Mac continued to slowly flip the ring over in his palm. Suddenly he grinned. Methos' bare feet were sticking out from under the cover. Mac couldn't resist placing the bottom of his left foot against Methos' right one and comparing the two.

   Mac's foot overall was longer, but individually Methos had longer toes. Staring speculatively at the ring in his hand and Methos' slender toes curling over his own, MacLeod decided to have a little fun.

   He slid the ring over Methos' middle toe. The Old Man's foot twitched a little but he didn't wake up. Nope, that wouldn't work. Perhaps it would fit better over his big toe. Mac slid it down again. Better. In fact Methos would look quite fetching in a toe ring.

   But still...God that ring was huge. Why there was probably enough room in it for MacLeod's big toe as well! Wriggling around he managed to wedge his toe up under the edge of the ring too. It was going to be a tight fit.

   Reaching down he held the ring steady while he squirmed his toe the rest of the way into it. There. Mac snickered a little. Maybe he'd leave it on a little while, just to see Methos' face when he realized he'd been 'cuffed' and taken prisoner.

   Just then with a loud yawn Methos awoke and smiled blearily at Mac. Stretching hugely, the ancient Immortal bent his legs at the knee and pulled them up towards his chest. He was startled to see MacLeod slowly fall backwards as the Highlander's leg snaked after Methos'.

   Something felt weird. Flexing his toes, the Old Man realized Mac's foot was pressed up against his own. "Trying to play footsie, MacLeod?"

   "You might say that."   Mac grinned evilly as he tugged Methos' leg back down flat in the bed.

   "What the...?" Throwing the covers back Methos stared down at their linked feet. A strange expression flitted over his face and his mouth seemed to quiver for a moment. Then reining in the bubble of mirth that threatened to explode from his gut Methos raised his eyes to the Highlander's and ask mildly, "Mac, what have you done?"

   "You might say you're my prisoner."

   "Your prisoner. I see. I take it you found the ring in the box?"

   "Yeah.   I was just goofing around with it. I hope you don't mind."

   Methos couldn't hold it in any longer. Fairly whooping he gasped, "You think it's some kind of toe restraint?" He snorted loudly.

   Mac opened his big brown eyes very wide and said innocently, "No. Of course not. It's obviously a, er, ring for... well for... oh hell. Okay, so I don't know. I think it came off something else."

   Grinning toothily Methos shook his head slowly. No.

   "No?"

   "MacLeod, take that thing off and come up here and I'll tell you all about it."

   Repressing a grin, Mac reached down to pull the ring off their toes... it didn't budge. Tugging harder he snuck a glance at Methos' face. A thunderous frown was beginning to crease the Old Immortal's brow.

   "MacLeod..." he growled.

   "Keep your shirt on, Methos. Oh that's right, you're not wearing a shirt are you? In fact..." Mac flicked the covers totally off the Old Man. "...You're not wearing anything are you?" Surreptitiously MacLeod began to try to twist the ring off like he would open a bottle cap.

   "Quit trying to change the subject, Highlander. Get that thing off my toe!"

   Getting desperate, MacLeod took the ring in both hands and began to pull with all his strength. Now it was Methos' turn to slide down in the bed as Mac pulled his toe and thus his foot and thus his leg higher and higher. When this still didn't work he began to shake the ringed toes violently up and down like a man trying to get catsup out of a fresh bottle.

   Methos stood it, relatively speaking, as long as he could but when his teeth began to rattle he had to shout, "Stop! Enough MacLeod! Enough!"

   Eyeing the Old Immortal warily Mac essayed a sickly grin. "It's stuck."

   "Bloody Hell! Do you think? I can't believe this! I can not believe this!"

   "Now Methos..."

   "Don't you 'now Methos' me! You're like a curse MacLeod! One crazy thing after another happens to me when I'm around you! But this! This takes the prize! I would never in five thousand years have thought of getting a cock ring stuck on our toes!"

   Making a split second decision, Mac decided to play the hand he'd been dealt.   "A...a what?!" Duncan's voice choked off in a high pitched yelp.

   "That's right you bloody imbecile! It's a cock ring. A. Cock. Ring!"

   "Oh my God! You mean it goes on..." Duncan added a horrified gasp at the end.

   "Well I'm not talking about a rooster."

   Reaching down again, MacLeod began to thrash about as he desperately pulled the ring first one way and then the other. "I've got to get it off! I've...got...to...get...it...off! Urk!"

   Losing his grip Mac fell back against the bed as Methos' free foot kicked out and connected solidly with Highland chest. "I want you to pull the ring off, not my toe. Calm down and let me think."

   Breathing heavily MacLeod gingerly sat back up. "You're right. There's gotta be a dozen ways to get it off. Of course, if you hadn't gone and bought one big enough for Sasquatch... um, that is... I mean..."

   "Whoa! Wait right there! In the first place, I didn't buy it-- although it was custom made. In the second place, Highlander, are you telling me you knew what it was and you still put it on our toes?"

   "Well, yes. You obviously think I'm four years old, not four hundred, so I thought I'd accommodate you."

   "Ah... so it's my fault."

   "No, not totally. You can't help it if you're so old you think you invented sex. Don't worry... I'm totally okay with it."

   "Good for you. But don't think I'm all right with this, MacLeod, because I'm not. I've just decided not to kill you until I get free. I don't fancy dragging your dead carcass around everywhere I go."

"Er... right. What's the plan?" Mac sounded positively biddable.

   Glaring suspiciously Methos said, "It's obvious. We need something to make it slippery." Turning to rummage in the bedside table Methos continued, "Got any massage oil?"

   He began tossing various items aside as he searched. Stopping suddenly he held up what had to be the world's strangest pair of handcuffs. They were totally covered in fluffy white fur. Leveling a sarcastic look at the Highlander Methos said, "Amanda?"

   Crimson with embarrassment, MacLeod nodded. Shaking his head Methos put the cuffs back in the drawer. Finally he found the oil. "Jungle Gardenia," he read. "Why am I not surprised?"

   Twisting the lid off, Methos scooted forward to 'anoint' their toes.

   "Here, let me." Eager to redeem himself MacLeod reached for the oil just as Methos began to tilt it. Mac's big hand knocked against the bottle and sent its contents flying all over Methos'... lap.

   Hissing through his teeth, MacLeod scooted out of range as much as possible. "Oops."

   Surprisingly Methos said nothing. He tapped his fingers against the mattress for a couple of heartbeats then calmly reached down toward his glistening groin.

   Mac's eyes widened. "Methos, do you really think now's the right time for that?"

   Pinning the Scotsman with a look of utter disdain the Old Immortal raised his dripping fingers and reached down toward the ring. Rubbing the oil liberally over the imprisoned digits, Methos began to twist the ring.

   After long minutes, Methos began cursing in Gaelic so he could be certain Duncan would understand every gruesome phrase. "It's not working. I think our toes are beginning to swell from having the blood supply cut off."

   "Really?" MacLeod bent double to peer at the toes up close. "You're right. I can see the little bulging veins...awk!"

   Unable to resist a little payback Methos took the opportunity that presented itself. The Old Man had extremely dexterous toes. Now he grabbed MacLeod's nose in a pincher grip between his imprisoned big toe and the next one. Once he had it firmly in hand, so to speak, he began to twist.

   Jerking back, Mac rubbed his nose and said plaintively, "Why'd you do that?"

   "Think of it as an object lesson, MacLeod. If you kept your nose out of other people's business you wouldn't always be getting into these scrapes. Now shut up and let me think."

   Deeming it the better part of valor not to point out that Methos had brought the ring here in the first place, Duncan remained silent.

   Methos stared fixedly at the beringed toes. Finally he said, "We're going to have to get up."

   "Okay." Twisting his toe around inside the ring MacLeod maneuvered so that his foot was on top. But as he started to scramble off the bed Methos none too gently jerked him back.

   "Oh no you don't. You don't always get to be on top, Highlander. I'm leading this dance." Adroitly pivoting his body, Methos clambered off the bed dragging the younger man with him.

   "Ouch! You're stepping on my foot!"

   "You're right I am. And I'm going to keep on stepping on your foot until we get this ring off. So let's get on with it shall we?"

   Dragging MacLeod, griping at every step, Methos lurched to the refrigerator. Opening it up he gazed longingly at the beer. No. He wanted to be in full possession of his faculties when they finally got the ring off. Moving to the freezer section he got out all the ice.

   "The problem is our toes are swollen. So we treat them like mortals do a sprained ankle. We ice them down."

   Serious for the moment Mac nodded. "Makes sense. We can use that big pot I steam lobsters in."

   "Good idea." Locating the pot, they carried it and the ice back to the bed. Sitting side by side on the edge, they placed their imprisoned feet into the big container. Methos proceeded to dump all the ice on top of them. "And now we wait."

   MacLeod had a pensive look on his face. Laying a big, warm hand on the naked thigh pressed so tightly up against his own he said, "Methos, I'm sorry."

   Methos wanted to hold on to his outrage, he really did, but the sincerity in the big brown eyes did him in. Raising a hand he cupped the Highlander's beautiful face and looked into his eyes.   "No, I'm the one who's sorry Duncan. I haven't exactly been very nice about all this."

   Rubbing his cheek against Methos' palm Mac grinned ruefully. "I deserved it-- but I won't stop you if you feel like you need to make it up to me."

   Kissing him quickly Methos said, "Believe me it'll be my pleasure. After we get the cock ring off."

   "I can't feel my foot anymore. Do you think it's working?"

   Before Methos could check they both heard the unmistakable sound of someone stepping onto the barge. "Hey, MacLeod. You home?" Joe's voice called.

   Eyes wide with horror Methos squawked, "I'm naked!"

   Balancing precariously on the edge of the bed Mac just managed to snag the sweater Methos had stripped off earlier. Tossing it to the Old Man he jerked the comforter around until it totally coveredMethos from the waist down. Pointing to the tv remote on the bedside table Mac leaned over to artistically drape the rest of the comforter around the lobster pot.

   Snick went the remote. MacLeod had just straightened back up when the door opened.

   Joe walked in with a big smile on his face. When he saw the two men perched guiltily on the bed he froze. "Hello boys." His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking at.

   The two seemed to be totally engrossed in whatever they were watching on television but after a moment Mac looked up briefly, raised a hand in greeting and said, "Hi Joe."

   "Yeah, hi Joe." Methos added with an air of distraction.

   "You cold Methos?"

   "Huh? Oh yeah. I've been freezing all day."

   Nodding his head slowly Joe advanced farther into the room. "I see." Really, he didn't see at all-- not yet.

   "So what are you watching?"

   "What are we watching...what are we watching..." Methos cast a desperate sidelong glance at MacLeod.

   "A soap opera."

   "A soap opera?"

   "Yeah. 'The Young and the Restless' French version. It's Methos' favorite."

   Methos head snapped around to stare at the Highlander. "It is?" A well placed pinch to a naked hip led him to yelp, "That's right. It is. All those...young...restless people, you know."

   Joe wasn't buying a bit of it. Dragging a chair over he plunked himself down squarely in front of the two Immortals. "So Methos... your favorite tv show is a soap opera. Okay, fine. Am I supposed to believe it's your favorite too, MacLeod?"

   "It's very exciting right now Joe. Niki's been shot and she's not expected to live."

   Methos looked at the Highlander for a long moment then turned back to their disbelieving Watcher. "That's right," he said mournfully. "Poor Niki."

   Mac slapped his hand none too gently across Methos' back. "Now Methos. Buck up."

   Turning to Joe he explained. "Methos is really worried about her. I told him he could watch it here so if she, you know, died..."

   Joe had heard enough. "Oh please! What kind of an idiot do you two think I am? I need a beer, MacLeod."

   Mac just sat there staring at him.

   "MacLeod?"

   "Ah... help yourself Joe." He gestured toward the fridge.

   Standing up huffily Joe said, "Thanks. I will. Anybody else? Methos? Surely you want one."

   Turning the television back off the Old Immortal sighed. "Yeah thanks Joe. I could use one... or ten."

   Joe groused all the way to the fridge and back. "Watching a soap opera... right. I expect a better story than that."

   Walking up to the two Immortals he handed Methos his beer. Turning to return to his chair his cane accidentally bumped the comforter encased pot on the floor in front of him. Thunk.

   "Huh? What's this?" Poking around with the cane Joe heard it again. Thunk.

   MacLeod had a ghastly grin on his face while Methos was frozen in mid-drink.

   Sitting down, Joe leaned forward and lifted a corner of the comforter with the tip of his cane. He carefully drew it around behind the object he was uncovering. A moment later he stopped and stared. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. All right. Who wants to tell me about that thing on the floor? MacLeod?"

   "It's a lobster pot."

   "A lobster pot. Okay. And it's full of ice."

   "Right."

   "Right. And you two have your feet in this big lobster pot full of ice that's sitting on the floor in front of the bed that you are both sitting on watching soap operas while trying to warm Methos up by wrapping him in a comforter."

   "That sounds about right to me."

   "Me too."

   Joe's mouth worked as he stared from Mac to Methos and then back again. Finally in a still, small voice he asked, "Are you going to tell me why?"

   "That kind of depends. Check it, Mac."

   MacLeod obediently bent over and put both his hands into the pot. Dawson couldn't actually see began to shimmy and slide over the floor while Methos began to jerk up and down on the bed as if he were in the grip of a seizure.

   After a couple of minutes of this, MacLeod abruptly straightened with a sorrowful expression on his face. "Nope."

   Brushing the Highlander's hair out of his face Methos told him, "Mac, we're going to have to tell Joe."

   "But..."

   "Joe's smart. Maybe he can help."

   Duncan shrugged. "Okay."

   "Help you with what?"

   In answer Mac and Methos slowly raised their frozen, white feet out of the pot and thrust them in the general direction of Joe's face.

   "Oh my God! Your toes are stuck together!"

   "Really? We hadn't noticed," deadpanned the Old Man.

   Joe carefully scooted his chair forward to get a closer look. "Well, get 'em up here."

   Clucking softly, Joe examined the trapped tootsies from all angles. "Which one of you bright boys did this?"

   "What makes you think it was one of us?" MacLeod was defensive.

   "What-- you're gonna tell me that Mad Dog Immortal Richie told me about did it?"

   "Mad Dog Immortal?"

   "You remember, Methos. The one who ripped your leather pants to shreds before you nailed him."

   They definitely didn't want to go there. MacLeod spoke quickly.   "You're right. I did it."

   "Uh huh. It figures." Joe experimentally twisted the still cold band of metal around. "What is this anyway? One of those curtain rod thingees?"

   Mac turned slowly purple while Methos snorted. "Not."

   Looking from MacLeod to the Old Man, Joe saw embarrassment and barely restrained hilarity. He twisted the ring again. Then it hit him. "No! No way! MacLeod, where did you get a cock ring?"

   Methos hooted with laughter. MacLeod frowned. "Methos gave it to me."

   Joe couldn't stop it any longer. He laughed so hard he almost fell out of the chair. "And he told you to put it on your toes?"

   "Duncan thought of that all by himself."

   Wiping tears from his eyes, Joe concluded, "And now it's stuck."

   Sobering abruptly, Methos confirmed, "Yeah."

   "If it was anybody but you two... fine. Have you tried grease or oil?"

   "Didn't work."

   "And you've tried ice. Hmmm...maybe we can get some kind of a saw and cut it off?"

   "Won't work. It's Toledo steel-- tough as a sword blade."

   Joe had to ask. "Methos, what are you doing with a Toledo steel cock ring?"

   "It was a gift."

   "Some gift. Let me think. How about muscle relaxants?"

   Methos thought for a moment then reluctantly shook his head. "I don't think so. There's not much muscle to relax in toes-- the problem is obvious. MacLeod has fat toe joints."

   "I do not!"

   "Don't worry about it, Highlander. As long as you keep your shoes on no one will ever notice."

   "You know," ventured Joe, hating to voice it aloud, "There is one way. You could... cut off your toes."

   MacLeod blanched at the thought. "Absolutely not! You know severed limbs don't grow back. Remember Xavier St. Cloud?"

   Methos winked at Joe. "Wait a minute, MacLeod. Maybe Joe's right. We wouldn't have to cut off both our toes. Mine would slip right out if we lopped yours off."

   "Lopped mine off!"

   "Sure. I used to be a doctor, remember? It's possible that I could sew your toe back on."

   MacLeod's eyes were very wide. "Methos!"

   Joe and Methos burst out laughing. Placing his arm around the Scot Methos soothed, "Mac we're kidding. No one is getting his toe cut off."

   Taking a deep breath MacLeod said, "No. It's the only solution that's presented itself. Maybe you could sew it back on."

   Joe had to protest. "Come on, Mac. Immortal healing would seal the blood vessels faster than Methos could sew."

   "It's our only option Joe."

   Methos jerked Duncan's head around to face him. "No, Duncan. No. We'll stay stuck and join a circus before either one of us cuts off anything."

   Flooded with relief Mac sagged against Methos for a minute. "But what are we going to do?"

   Joe snapped his fingers. "An acetylene torch! If we find a really good welder maybe he could melt it off! Oh sure you'd burn a little..." Joe realized neither man was listening. Both were staring at the door.

   MacLeod groaned. "Richie."

   Sure enough, Richie burst into the barge and called, "Hey guys! What's shakin'?"

   Not even trying to conceal their predicament anymore, the others quickly brought Richie up to speed on most of the particulars. Most. No one saw any reason to mention the fact that the encircling band was in fact a cock ring. No use corrupting the kid.

   Richie took one look at the toes twitching in Joe's lap and blinked. "A cock ring. You have your toes stuck in a cock ring."

   "Richie!"

   "Oh come on Mac. How young do you think I am? Anybody with any brains would know that's a cock ring. Of course, it's kind of an old-fashioned one."

   Methos head perked up. "Old-fashioned?"

   Grinning Richie said, "Most of the ones you see today are leather or latex. Knowing how much you like leather, Old Guy, I'd have figured you for one of those."

   "It was a gift a long time ago. I've, er, never actually used it."

   "Ah. Tell me again, why is it stuck on your toes?"

   Reaching over MacLeod knocked sharply on Richie's red head. "Earth to Richie. Whadda ya mean 'why is it stuck'?"

   "Guys. These things always have an escape feature-- you know, in case they get too tight?"

   All three older men tried to look knowledgeable.

   "An escape feature-- I'd forgotten that."

   "Oh right."

   "Uh huh."

   Shaking his head at his clueless audience, Richie bent over the ring. "Now let's see...ere we go."

   Gripping the cock ring on opposite sides Richie twisted it in two different directions at once. There was a soft click and two perfect arcs of metal lay in his hand.

   "He did it!" Methos was so excited he jumped up, almost losing his covering in the process. Joe got one glimpse of a long bare leg before the comforter was whisked back into place by a blushing MacLeod.

   Standing abruptly Joe took Richie by the arm. "Come on Hero, I'll buy you some lunch."

   "But I just got here! I want to hear how they got stuck."

   "Boy am I hungry. Picture it Rich. A thick juicy steak, medium rare with all the trimmings..."

   "Steak? Oh...ok. Guys we'll talk later all right?"

   "Yeah kid, much later."

   "Thanks again, Richie. Bye Joe."

   "Don't worry boys, we'll talk later too." Joe's voice was full of promise as he towed Richie back into the Paris afternoon.

   By mutual consent both men fell backwards onto the bed. Languorous contentment stole over them. MacLeod turned slowly to face the world's oldest Immortal. Propping up on one elbow he began, "Methos, I am so sorry. You were right this morning. I do keep getting you into trouble." Methos' long fingers closed Duncan's lips on the rest.

   Shaking his head fondly he looked up into Duncan's dark brown eyes. "Like I said Highlander. You are a boy. An endearing, infuriating, exasperating, beautiful boy with the body of a god. You make me feel young again."

   "I do?"

   "You do. When I'm around you I don't feel a day over four thousand."   Laughing Methos reached up to draw Mac's face to his own. "Now I believe I have some 'making up' to do."

   For all the laughter and soft words, when their lips met it was white-hot. All the pent up feelings of the day exploded in one violent burst of passion.

   MacLeod seemed to be trying to crawl inside of Methos' mouth while for his part, the Old Man was trying to let him. Grabbing, clutching, biting, sucking-- neither man could get enough.

   Licking his way down Methos' chest, Mac's mouth latched onto a nipple and began to suck. Harder and deeper he drew it into his mouth until Methos was writhing and groaning beneath him. Skating his hand down past Methos' navel MacLeod stopped short when he began to slide in the oil that still covered the Old Man's penis.

   Raising his glistening hand to show his lover, Mac whispered, "Be a shame for all this oil to go to waste."

   "It would, wouldn't it?" Methos whispered back before his lips once again possessed Duncan's. "Turn over, Highlander."

   Duncan complied with an eagerness that startled and pleased the Old Immortal. Still... "Mac-- Duncan, I know you've never done this before. Are you sure?"

   Looking back over his shoulder, Duncan's smoky passion-glazed eyes answered for him. Bringing Mac's hips up Methos sank into position behind.

   Reaching down to his own erection Methos stroked once, twice. Then bringing his oil coated hand back to Duncan he trailed it down the crease between the younger man's buttocks. Already squirminga little, MacLeod thrust backward.

   Methos chuckled softly and did it again. This time he stopped when he came to the puckered opening into Duncan's body. Running his slick fingers around the tight bud Methos suddenly slipped one inside. MacLeod gasped then began to moan.

   Reaching his other hand around, he grasped Duncan's engorged cock. MacLeod bucked backwards brushing Methos own erection with each movement. He was going to have to hurry. Neither of them was going to last long at this rate. Quickly Methos slipped a second finger inside and continued to stretch. Stroking Mac slowly, Methos added a third. The younger man cried out.

   "Steady," Methos whispered carressingly in his ear. "Soon Duncan, soon."

   Bringing both hands to MacLeod's hips Methos held him carefully as he positioned his cock. Inching forward he pushed the tip of his throbbing penis into the Highlander. Duncan stiffened at the alien sensation.

   "Relax, Mac. Breathe." Trembling now, MacLeod exhaled slowly. As he did Methos pushed farther inside. Gods it was like being clutched in a hot vise. Slowly, ever so slowly he pressed inward.

   Suddenly the gasps caught in the Highlander's throat as a spasm of incredible pleasure jolted through his body. "Oh my God."

   Laughing softly Methos said, "And we have a winner. Feels good, doesn't it?" Deliberately drawing back a fraction of an inch, Methos pushed forward brushing the same spot again.

   "Yesss..."

   Methos pulled back yet again. "Yes!" Mac shouted as he thrust backwards impaling himself on the entire length of Methos' rod.

   Now it was Methos turn to gasp as he felt himself buried to the hilt in hot, tight Highlander. Reaching around to Duncan's cock he found MacLeod's hand already there. But when Mac would have pulled away Methos laced their fingers together and closed both of their hands over the pulsing shaft.

   Unwilling and unable to wait any longer Methos began to fuck the Highlander with long slow strokes, in... out. Faster and faster until MacLeod was slamming back against Methos, meeting every thrust. The hands milking Duncan's shaft kept time with the tempo. In no time, Mac found himself tumbling over the edge of ecstasy as he came all over their joined hands.

   As Mac's body convulsed with his orgasm Methos found his penis gripped so tightly it was almost painful. Ramming home one last time, he joined Mac in the headlong dive to mutual fulfillment.



   When Methos finally roused enough to slowly pull out of Mac and roll over he shook his head. MacLeod saw the movement and frowned. "What's wrong?"

   "Hm? Oh gods, Duncan, nothing's wrong. It was wonderful. Perfect. It's just hard to believe, that's all. I keep thinking I'll wake up."

   Duncan asked dryly, "Do you really think you'd dream about having our toes stuck in a cock ring?"

"Maybe not. Good point." Reaching for the younger man, he pulled him close. "Once again, Highlander you've presided at a first."

"A first?"

"Yes. Just as last night was the best blind date I've ever had, today has definitely been the most fun I've ever had with a cock ring."

   "Wait a minute. You said you'd never used it before. Besides it was on our toes."

   "Doesn't matter. That cock ring is going right into the journal-- right after the entry about the leather pants."

   "Methos! You're not going to put this in your Chronicles!"

"Not Chronicles Duncan, journal-- private journal. Don't worry, I'll be very complimentary."

   Stretching lazily Mac lay his head on the Old Immortal's chest. "I should hope so." Then he sighed. "I guess the rest of those toys had better wait for a while."

   "Um, yes I think so. I think we need to practice the regular stuff first. Lots of practice."

   Snuggling down to sleep Methos wrapped his arms more fully around the Highlander. "Of course, I have another meeting in the morning, but then..." The Old Man's words trailed off as he relaxed.

   MacLeod waited fifteen minutes to be sure the old Immortal was asleep. Then grinning evilly the Highland warrior slowly pulled his hand out from under the extra pillow. In it were the white fur handcuffs. If Methos thought he was going anywhere in the morning...

             end

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