Swords at Sunset
Entry # six
6
   honorable mention, for making this old drake blush, to this Victorian~style romp

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Chapter one

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        Connor wiped his hands disgustedly on an old rag.  Of all the most inconvient times for his servant to get bored and run off with the first pretty lordling who beckoned!  <<I am a warrior.  I *catch* supper.  I hate havin' ta skin supper, much less *cook* it.  The blood gets everywhere.>>   And it was truly impossible to get it out of silk and satin without nearly ruining good clothing in the effort.  <<Bloody hell,>> he thought again, shaking out his sleeve where it had trailed into the carcass.  He comforted himself with the knowledge that young Ewen would have himself a surprise if he thought that fop Lord Ballister would be able to get it u……  His thoughts trailed off as he felt the imminent Presence of another Immortal.  <<May the bastard's balls rot off!>>  It all but wanted this. Now his supper might burn, and after all the trouble he went to fixing it.

        He looked up, scanning the woods around him for sign of movement.  He heard him long before he saw him, moving as he was through the heavy growth.  Watching, he slowly drew his sword, waiting for the intruder to appear.  His breath caught in his throat as the figure erupted from the trees to his left.   <<My, my, my. What tasty morsel was this,>> he wondered. Such a sight he'd not seen in all his days.  He hastily took back his curse.

        The creature stood, sword drawn and eyes wild, his black hair a mantle falling around him, his skins and kilt having seen better days and covered in dirt and leaves.  But his face was that of a god, what he saw of his body a study of muscles and golden skin. He moved, clutching his head in pain, obviously confused. When he spoke, he had the heavy brogue of the Highlands in his voice.

        "I'm Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.  I mean ya nae harm, man.  I..I'm lookin' for th' food I smelled.  It's been a lean winter and I'm mighty hungry.  D'ya mind sharing yer fire?"

        Connor stood transfixed, knowing that he'd do anything to possess this glorious wild creature standing before him.  <<An Immortal,>> he thought, one that looked as if he didn't realize what he was feeling, the presence of another Immortal's Quickening.  <<A new one!  Fate has sent him to me in place of that faithless Ewen.>>

        Standing quickly, he shoved his sword back into his scabbard.  "A kinsman! By all means, man, come. Draw near.  I'll share whate'er I have this even with ya."  He bowed.  "Connor MacLeod, lately of Inverness and Glasglow."  He poured a mug of strong whisky and handed it to the younger man. "Here, drink up. Warm yerself. Tell me, what're ya  doing wandering 'round these parts?"

        Duncan took the mug, still looking at Connor uncertainly.  "Y'er like me, aren't yew.  Ah get this feeling that comes over me sometimes…"

        <<So do I, my young stallion. Oh, aye, definitely new.>>  "Aye, we're both Immortals. D'ye not know about yerself, Duncan MacLeod?"

        "Noo….ah dinna know much but what some strange hermit told me.  And Ah thought he was tetched in the head."

        "We're Immortals. What yer feelin is the Quickening of another Immortal when ya draw near t' them.  Have ya not felt this before, man?"

        "Oh, aye, a few times. I dinna know what it was, though. Immortals, ya say?"  He appeared stunned, throwing back whisky in a gulp.  "Does it mean then that we canna die?"

        "That's right, man.  'Cepting, o' course, when yer head gets separated from yer body.  That'll kill ya quick enough.  And yer Quickening'll go to the one who took it."

        Duncan sat down on a handy rock while Connor eyed him.  <<Strong sturdy legs, he thought, wonder what's under the kilt?>>  He pulled his eyes back with effort when he saw Duncan looking at him.

        "What's this Quickening you talk of?  Is it th' power o' us?"

        Connor thought. "Aye, that's about it.  Our power and knowledge.  We get stronger when we take another's head and their Quickening."

        "But why do we want t' take another's head?" Duncan asked confusedly. "Don't we want t' help each other out?  I know what m' clan did to me after I dinna die…" He shook his head. "Ah dinna know what I was, either.  Then that old man took his own head with m' sword, and all this lightening crashed… I thought I was gonna die fer sure."

        "That's the Rules, boy.  It's The Game.  We fight, to see who the Winner is. Last Immortal alive gets the Prize, all the Quickenings of all of us.  Think of it, Duncan, all the power of all the Immortals."

        "Seems to me we'd  be better off sticking together, what with the way things are," Duncan argued,
fearing this new unknown life.

        "Oh, aye, we can stick together in small numbers," Connor thought fast.  "Course, there's other ways than taking heads with a sword to strengthen the Quickening," he said slyly.

        "Other ways? How's that?" Duncan asked.

        "Why, by stickin together, just like you said.  An' men not lying with women and women not lying with men, and losin' their Quickening to each other."

        The mugful of whisky Connor had given Duncan sputtered out as he choked on a mouthful.  "Good god, man, dinna tell me I have ta become a monk!"

        Connor laughed.  "Do I look like a monk ta you?  Nae, mon, no monk, just…ye canna lie with a woman.  It's the opposites, ya see, that do it.  It drains yer Quickening from ya after a while, till ya ain't got none left.  Then ya die."  Connor shrugged as he said the last and turned his back to rotate the rabbit on its spit over the fire.

        His newfound clansman's words caused confusion and an overload in the young Immortal.  <<Living forever, cannot die.  *No women*.>>   The idea of living forever he thought he could get used to fairly quickly, but the no women part had him mourning the loss already.  Numbly, he accepted a haunch of seared rabbit from Connor and another mug of the potent Highland brew as visions of eternal hairy palms and blindness caused him to shudder.

        Connor eyed the younger Scot.  "Dinna worry, my young friend. Fate has sent yew to me.  Ye've got me to teach you the way of things.  I'll help ya survive your new life.  And I think we can manage to find a way to make it enjoyable, too, young Duncan." The last was said as he greedily examined the form next to him.  <<Aye, enjoyable, indeed.>>

        Duncan looked across at his kinsman and, despite his apprehension, began to feel safe for the first time in years.  The rabbit juice and fat smeared his lips and ran seductively down his chin and it was all Connor MacLeod could do to stop from leaning over and taking the youngling on the spot.  But he pulled back, aware that with such a prize in his grasp, he needed to gentle this skittish stallion.  But the ride would  surely be worth it, he assured himself.

        Duncan's dulcit tones brought him out of his reverie. "And just wha' sort of trainin' would yew be talkin' about, Connor?"

        Connor deliberately stood and moved to the other side of the fire, purely to shift the moon's reflection from where it was currently lazing in this gorgeous creature's eyes.  If his plan was going to work he was going to have to keep the control..

        "Well, that'll depend, young Duncan," he said, reminding him who is the strippling, "on what stage yew are at.  In your swordplay and fightin' and especially with yer Quickening."  He locked eyes with the prize and refused to disengage.

        Duncan swallowed loudly, beginning to have a vague idea of where the conversation was leading.  Connor watched him reach up with both of his beautiful hands and gather up his long black waist length curls  <<Jesus Almighty give me strength>> and casually place them behind his shoulders.  Connor thought he might release his surging juices just from that sight.   <<And the youngling has no idea...no idea at all, that in his wake he leaves hollowed out husks of cocks and strained right arms and hands.  Just from a look from those moist doe eyes.  Just from a languid gathering of his locks.>>

        Duncan felt the color and heat rising in his face.  "And just how do yew check my Quickening health, Connor?"

        Silently Connor MacLeod gave obeisance to any stray, wandering deity, lustful enough to be passing over the Highlands at that time, and thanked them for rewarding whatever few good deeds Connor had ever, accidentally, engaged in.

        "Now do yew think, young Duncan MacLeod,"  he began, reminding him of kinship loyalties and obligations, "that Immortals can go displayin' their Quickening health for other immortals to see and take advantage of?  'Tis in a hidden place, a special colored mark between your hangin' sacs and yer arse where it can be known only ta those yew trust with yer life, like yer kinsmen.  I'll know from th' color what state yer Quickenin' is in.  Ya see lad, already yer Quickening would be low.  Yew haven't had any of th' feedin' of it and ye've no doubt been lettin yer seed spill out in the dark dead of night."  He moved closer to Duncan, who was now bright red with guilt and embarrassment.  Connor took his fat smeared chin in his hand and pulled the young god's face up to gaze at him.  "And there's no trouble with that, lad, as long as it's being topped up with a more powerful brew from the seed of more powerful Immortals such as meself."

        "Ye'd do this for me, Connor?" Duncan sighed, unable to believe that his luck had finally turned for the better.  "Ye'd look after me, and check me color and fix me up if I need strengthenin'?"

        "Aye, I could be persuaded.  But ye'd have to do as I say, even if it seems strange to yew, young
Duncan.  It would mean layin' wi' me, young Duncan.  And lettin' me do what needs to be done to your private places.  But remember that the rules we learned were for mortals and 'was mortals who exiled us.  We have our own rules and you're way behind, lad, in learnin' them, what wi' the Gathering being here an' all."

        "Gathering, Connor?"  It should have been impossible for the doe eyes to get any larger but enlarge they did, as Duncan stared in horror at this latest terrifying piece of information.  "What gets gathered, Connor?"

        "Heads, lad.  Heads.  They'll be comin' for ye like a scythe through th' rye.  But behave yerself and let me get yer Quickening strength up and it'll be yew who's takin their heads, young Duncan. Finish yer meal and we'll get started.  Ye've wasted enough of your time and your Quickening already."

        Duncan closed his eyes and rubbed the last of the rabbit bone across his lips, savoring the first real meal he'd had in many days.  Connor held his breath as he watched the creature massaging his swollen full lips with the bone.  <<Ye'll soon have a better bone than that to suck on, young Duncan.>>   Taking the last of the whisky Duncan took delight in feeling it run down his throat.  Connor thought that he would imminently explode if he didn't soon get his hands and other bodily parts onto this temptation from hell.

        "Duncan, what we'll be doin' is for Immortals only.  No pryin' mortals must see it.  Tis time for me to find out just what I've agreed to take on, young Duncan MacLeod.  I have to warn yer though.  Yew might already be too low for me to be wasting me time on."

        Duncan looked up at him in alarm, all his new found security evaporating.  "Please, Connor.  I'll do whatever yew tell me.  I'm so tired of bein' alone.  Anything, Connor.  I'll be no trouble to yew.  I'll ..."  Tears had started welling in the youngling's eyes and started running down his cheeks.  The combined  flavors waiting for Connor were too much and he leaned forward and pulled the magnificent creature into his arms, testing his reaction.  He closed both of his strong arms behind Duncan's back and moved his large hand up to take possession of Duncan's head, threading the jet black locks over and around his fingers.  Soon he effectively held Duncan prisoner.

        "Ssshh. There, there, lad. I dinna mean to upset yew. Shh. I promise, young Duncan. Whatever we find, I'll look after yew."  Duncan pulled back to look at his new found saviour.

        "Connor, do yew mean it?  Promise me."

        Connor started to taste the various combination of luscious juices on Duncan's golden skin and quickly tasted and cleaned the fat, whisky and tears with his tongue.  To his credit, Duncan allowed it, clearly regarding it as a test of some sort.

        "And yer sure ye trust me enough to do whatever I ask o' ya, youngling?  Otherwise ya may as well leave here now.  There's nothin will be able t' be done for ya."

        "Aye, Connor.  I trust yew."

        "Let us start yer training then, young Duncan MacLeod."

        Duncan had not felt such a combination of excitement, hope and fear in a long time.  At least it was a new sensation, he consoled himself, and made for a change after the years of lonely and frightening wandering.  "What do I need, Connor?"

        Connor turned to feast his eyes on the creature once more.  It was all he could do to remind himself to stand at a safe distance when the creature blinked, such were the silken lengths of his eyelashes.   Feeling the slight breeze enfold him he advised  "Just yerself, lad."   <<Oh aye, just yerself.>>  For next to Duncan MacLeod, anything else was a crass and unnecessary surfeit.  "I've already got a fire laid up.   And we have a large sheltered overhang to protect us from the weather.  <<And a welcoming large rounded ledge to lay yew over while I feast upon yer sweet sweet juices, laddie. >>

Chapter Two

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        Connor set a large flaming torch by the thigh high ledge. He couldn't believe the happy combination of luck and circumstance that had brought this young magnificent, naive, delightful creature to him.  He lit the fire so that there was going to be no way he was going to miss out on seeing everything this stallion had to offer.

        "This will be uncomfortable for a while until ye used to some things, like me girth, and we get yew stretched like an Immortal of yer age should be."

        Duncan had no idea what Connor was talking about but he supposed it never hurt to have his muscles limber and fit.  If stretching exercises were part of making sure of his survival then who was he to argue.

        "Now take that blanket and lay it on the rock shelf so's ye've got some padding between yourself and the hard surface."  Duncan complied, feeling increasing nervousness. "Now lay down on it, lad."

        Duncan stood and faced the ledge and placed the top half of his body across it..  It was just high enough to allow his feet to still be on the ground, giving him some leverage and allowing his cock to rub against the wool of his kilt and the rock but not be crushed by it.  He had no real idea what was going to happen to him but amidst the fear was a fierce, undercurrent of excitement.  Already he could feel his cock starting to harden in anticipation.

        "The first time can be overpowerin', Duncan.

        Connor shook his head trying to dislodge the vision of the beautiful face consuming his thoughts.  Truly, the stallion's pout was going to be a force to be reckoned with.  Indeed, thought Connor MacLeod, he was going to have to avoid being complacent around such a one or it would soon be he who was enslaved. There was something about the gorgeous stripling before him that brought out Connor's long-hidden protective instincts.  <<This one must be preserved.  And cherished.  And kept apart from others.  Indeed, this one is mine. So guileless.  So open and honest.>>

        <<So ripe for the plucking.>>

        Duncan laid his head to the side, hiding beneath the heavy fall of his hair.

        "Are yew comfortable then, young Duncan? "  On confirmation, Connor began his explorations.  "Now I'm going to check out yer legs first, jest to get ya used to ma touch."  The technique for frightened fillies and this young one were, in Connor's mind, identical.

        Duncan felt Connor's large hands and fingers touching and kneading his calves, squeezing them between his massive and powerful hands.  He soon felt them move to his knees, the fingers seeming to dance across his knee caps as they sought what was hidden, against the rock.  His kilt was still in place and he found himself secretly yearning for Connor to lift its folds aside but Connor did not.  He seemed to spend hours exploring Duncan's powerful thighs, brushing his fingertips up and down, but stopped short of getting high enough to even brush lightly his private parts.  He was desperately thankful that Connor could not see his massively engorged cock and was using every ounce of restraint he had to ensure that he did not lose any more of his Quickening seed than he had already lost.  At least, he was determined he wouldn't lose it without Connor's guidance.  It had been so long since any human hand had caressed him that he found himself quickly caught up in the delightful ministrations.

        Behind him Connor MacLeod was waging the same war on restraint and had just decided to declare victory and seize his prize. Clearly the young one craved contact and touching. Duncan cried out as Connor's hands finally reached their goal, the sensitive inner skin at the very top of his legs and the sacs that hung between.  And still Connor left the kilt in place and travelled by feel alone, over the sensual mound of Duncan's buttocks and over and around his private parts.

        "I need to know what yer thinkin' young Duncan." said a breathless Connor.  "Is it to yer liking or should I stop?"

        Duncan was virtually incapable of speaking, having never experienced anything like the pleasurable assault taking place, even in his many fantasies on the cold hard winter nights, and there had been many such nights and many such fantasies.  But never with another warrior fondling him so.. He was truly at Connor's mercy.  Then again, he had agreed to it, he reminded himself, so the experience was not totally devoid of  fodder to feed his brooding, guilt-laden moods on dark and stormy days.

        "I like it, Connor.  Verra much.  I never felt anythin' like it." he answered truthfully.

        "Good lad.  Now I need to do some deeper exploring, young Duncan, but I can see that yew might be in need of some release before I do that.  Turn around and let me help yer get more comfortable."  Suddenly two powerful arms had lifted his buttocks onto the ledge with no way of hiding his excitement from his new teacher.  Connor reached for a pack behind him and placed it so that Duncan's shoulders and head were raised and could see what was going to happen.

        "Now I'm going to find out how potent yer brew is, lad."  At Duncan's puzzled look, Connor continued.  "From the taste, laddie.  From the taste.  It should be rich and thick and creamy but I fear yours will be thin and water-filled.  Lie back and let me do what has to be done."

        And now, gasped Connor, the awaited unveiling.  "Pull your legs up onto the ledge as well Duncan, and place yer feet flat, so I can get me head comfortable between yer legs. Comfortable?"

        Actually, Duncan was surprised at how comfortable and exciting the position was. Fortunately his kilt was still in place as Connor helped him position his legs for better access to whatever Connor intended accessing.  Duncan hoped neither would be disappointed. This was certainly not what he had had in mind when he had asked for food from the fellow traveller.  Life, mused an increasingly excited Duncan, was full of surprises when they were least expected.  At least it was a refreshing change to have hands other than his own appreciating his finer points.

        Slowly Connor took the hem of Duncan's kilt and very slowly edged it up and up until it lay bunched at his waist and chest.  Connor thought of removing it but he had found that with the young ones in particular, they often found it more exciting and secure to have some semblance of clothing and control about them, the dishevelled placement leaving them feeling even more exposed and naked than if they were truly nude.

        "Oh Connor.  I never felt like this before.  Are yew sure 'tis not a sin?  Surely I'll burn for this sinfulness, Connor."

        "Did I not tell yew, laddie, that those rules are not for our kind.  If we listened to them, we'd all be dead, with no powerful Quickenins to protect us.  Now close yer eyes lad, until I tell yew to open them.  First I'm going ta taste your juices. Then I'm going to check for the signs and colors that will tell me how much work we have ta do.  And then I'm goin' t' try and check your special Quickening bud, up inside yew, Duncan."

        Duncan felt himself losing his ability to reason.  <<Colored spots, Quickening Buds?>>   It was all so strange.  But so was waking up from the dead, he decided.  And truly, after that experience, nothing should seem strange.  To think that all of this, which Connor was taking so securely in hand, may have lain undiscovered and withering and may have soon killed him was too tragic to be believed.  Gladly he gave himself over to Connor's expert handling, thankful for a teacher who was willing to go to this much trouble for him.  Indeed, agreed Duncan MacLeod, he had a lot to be thankful for.

        Connor gazed at Duncan's magnificent cock, lying on his belly like a living engorged eel.  "I'm going to feel the weight of yer cock now, Duncan.  See how much bigger yew can make it grow for me lad.  This is where much of our power rests. The bigger 'tis, the more quickening juices there be.  We'll both work on exercisin' it every day."

        "Is it big enough to make it worth yer while, Connor.?" Duncan asked through quivering lips, thankful for such solicitousness on Connor's part..

        "Aye lad, 'tis a very good size already.  But we'll be able to do better.  Next time I'll get yew to show me how yew've been stretching it when yew've been milking yer Quickening away and I'll check that ye're doing it right.  But with me here, lad, you won't have ta worry about lookin' after it yerself.  That's my job now." Connor bade him open his eyes and watch closely as he enticed the hot rod of living flesh to stretch itself to its limits and give up its seed.  The torchlight reflected off the amazing scene before Duncan, who was feeling dizzy with intense excitement and guilt at being milked like this by another.  <<But he is a kinsman.>>  He watched, with eyes like saucers, as Connor took his aching manhood in both of his large callused fists and enclosed it, using his forefingers and thumbs to gradually peel back the hood at the top.  Duncan watched in awe as the hidden new head arose from the folds.

        "Mmmm.  Just as I thought.  'Tis not good.  Yer see that color, Duncan?  Not much color there at all.  We have to work on making it a dark purple.  Thank God ye found me when ye did, lad."

        Connor crooned and proceeded to squeeze and pull and stretch the vibrant length of hot flesh, hand over hand, starting at the base and sliding his roughened hands towards the tip,  Duncan felt as if he were a formless lump of clay, being shaped by this expert potter.  As his breathing became ragged he watched in wonder as the single eye at the very top of his cock started to weep fluid.  "See how watr'y 'tis, young Duncan. Tsk.  We'll work on that too."

        Duncan watched in crazed expectation and delight.  Duncan wasn't used to holding back and he began to thrash from side to side , his glorious hair flying around him like a living creature as Connor worked on the living creature below.  Any further pronouncements from the golden-haired warrior were forestalled when he took Duncan's overheated, overstretched and overstimulated rod into his mouth and proceeded to taste and suck every surface.  He pulled back as he finished cleaning the leaking head.  "Even when thin and watery, 'tis still worth getting as much as ye can into yew, young Duncan."

        Duncan continued thrashing around, looking at Connor's head lying on his belly, feeling fingers starting to touch his back passage, pushing the sensitive skin inwards.  Suddenly he found his legs up and over Connor's shoulders, hooked around the strong ox-like neck, giving Connor extra push and pull.  He slid his amazing mouth over the desperately weeping, engorged cock before him,  back and forth,  from his teeth to deep within his throat.  Duncan felt as if he had slipped into a hot silken tunnel and everywhere he pressed was hot and steamy and so wonderfully smooth.  Then he felt more fingers on his nipples, pinching and pulling them.  He truly believed that he might go quite insane if Connor didn't release his juices for him.

        The lad's a natural, decided Connor, as he gave permission for Duncan to release his seed.  And suddenly Duncan was back having the same experience as he had with the hermit...explosions, intense pleasure unlike any he'd ever felt in his life, a fire in his blood and coursing and surging throughout his entire body.

        Connor swallowed for what seemed like hours as Duncan cried out and thrashed before him.  It was like riding a wild and untamed stallion, everything he had hoped for and much, much more.  Gradually both came to themselves and Connor quickly took back control.  Duncan felt his member begin to soften in the hot steamy cavern of Connor's mouth and wanted to leave it resting there, in his care forever.  But it was not to be.

        "Surely lad, we've got some work ta do.  Nowhere near creamy enough.  I'm amazed ye've got any strength in yew at all."

        "Connor.  Connor. I liked that," he found himself panting, feeling totally incoherent.

        "Aye, ye're a natural, Duncan MacLeod. Yew were meant to be strong and powerful and with my help, ya will be.  Shh, laddie. Breathe. That's right. Are yew still comfortable?"

        "Aye, Connor.  Do whatever else needs doin'. Please. I can see that I surely do need much of your care and handlin', Connor."

        "Right, laddie."  Pulling Duncan up off the ledge, he had him position himself on all fours on the ground.  "That's it.  Good lad."

        He could feel Connor's hands beginning their new journey, across his buttocks, fondling his heavy sacs as if they were a bag of gold, squeezing them just enough to hurt but bring pleasure at the same time.

        "Hmm.  Just as I thought.  It's still blue."

        "What, Connor.  Tell me.  What's still blue?"

        "Yer Quickening Spot, lad.  Just here between yer balls and yer arse.  Should be deep red by now and when yer really powerful it will disappear altogether.  Which is why yew won't find mine.  Spread yer legs for me, Duncan.  Now start squeezing yer arse as if yer pushing and pulling."  <<Which yew soon will be, lad o' mine.>>   "Ye're far too tight, lad.  We're going ta have to stretch yew so's my fluid can feed yer Quickening bud."

        "What is this bud, Connor?"

        "Ye'll see in a little while, when I get yer passage better stretched."  Reaching behind to the cooking pot Connor pulled out some of the rabbit bones.  Duncan froze, wondering what was coming.  "Relax, laddie.  This'll help make things go easier."  Connor gathered a nice amount of the soft grease from the bones and started to spread it slowly, all around Duncan's hot pink rosebud.  <<A rosebud that we'll quickly have in full bloom.>>

        Coating the fingers of his right hand, he used his left to stretch Duncan's buttocks as widely as possible.  <<Virgin territory.  Truly, there's was nothin' like it to excite a man.>>   Slowly he pushed inside Duncan's passage and felt him immediately seize up.  "Relax laddie.  It's all right.  There's a few more fingers to come yet. Oh Duncan.  Ye're so hot and smooth and tight, lad.  The only thing missing is my Quickening cream to keep yer bud strong and healthy.  Ya need to get as much as possible, laddie, to make up for lost time.  We'll feed it from both ends."

        Even amidst the sensual chaos, Duncan had been raised to be thoughtful and polite and he couldn't help but be thankful that fate had delivered him into the hands of such a selfless tutor.  Nothing, it was clear to Duncan, was too much trouble for Connor on his quest to teach his new student and strengthen him for the trials and tribulations of Immortality that lay ahead.

        "Now breathe more deeply, Duncan.  We're nearly there.  And now for some real excitement, lad o' mine.." And with that, Connor stroked the intense seat of pleasure he knew was present in all males.  As he reached his goal Duncan screamed out in pleasure, bucking and pulling Connor's fingers further in.

        "Connor.  God.  What is that.  What are ye doin', mon?  God.  Find it again."

        "Like that, did ye, young Duncan?  That's yer special Quickening Bud and it should be a lot bigger than 'tis lad."  Reaching up, Connor pulled him over onto his back..  "Now lie back down for me and let me look at yew lookin at me get meself ready for yew."  Connor released his kilt and  Duncan gazed in awe at the size of his member,  hard and throbbing with unrealised potent cream, just for him.  As if reading his thoughts, Connor echoed, "And full of cream for yew, Duncan.  Lie back, lad.  Have yer ever had a man's rod in yer mouth before?"

        "God, no Connor.  I'll choke.  It's too big."

        "Easy laddie.  Show me how yew like to pleasure yerself."  He watched as Duncan self-consciously started to caress his own cock, fondling it lovingly.  It only made Connor harder.  Letting Duncan continue to distract himself, he settled his legs on either side of Duncan's chest and positioned himself so that the head of his aching rod rested on Duncan's gorgeous mouth.

        Duncan opened his eyes as he felt his lips being touched and pressed.  Connor had himself firmly in hand and proceeded to trace the full outline of the indescribably beautiful mouth before him withe the tip of his weeping cock.  "Yew canna see from yer position Duncan but my fluid is creamy.  Lap it up lad and get it into yerself."

        Tentatively Duncan reached out with his tongue and gathered up the dripping juices now seeking the moistness of his mouth and throat.  Connor raised himself onto his knees and started to thrust into the paradise below.  Duncan continued to massage his own cock, knowing how important it was to Connor that he do so..

        "That's it lad.  Suck me as if yer tryin' to skin me.  Watch yer teeth.  I need to get meself as far down yer throat as I can.  Here, let me pull yer head up."  Connor stopped and put his powerful hands behind Duncan's head and with such secure leverage he started to thrust in earnest.  "Loosen yer throat, lad.  That's it.  <<A bloody natural, all right!>>  God, Duncan.  Yes.. yes..  Good lad....God..."

        And with what seemed an eternity later Connor's screams announced the successful transmission of the much sought after Quickening cream into the upper body of the fledgling Immortal god below him.   "Drink it all up, Duncan.  Good lad....stop strokin' yerself now and leave that fer me, lad."

        Below him Duncan was flushed and the sweat was dripping off him.  His lips and mouth were swollen just like the private parts of the young maids Connor used to bed.  "Yer've done so well, Duncan.  So well."  Leaning down, he tasted as much of himself as he could on Duncan's lips and in his mouth and throat.  It was enough, combined with sitting back and watching Duncan beginning to fondle himself again, to have him hard again within a short time.

        "Regeneration is a wondrous gift, laddie.  We could keep doing this all night."

        Duncan seriously doubted that he could keep going much longer, exciting as he found these new
mysteries.

        "Now.  The last thing we need to do is give yer some more cream.  Ye've seen the way the animals do it, have ye no', lad?"

        "Of course I have Connor.  I'm nae a child."

        "Well that's the way Immortals like it too. Ye'll always be on the bottom, Duncan, being the weaker."

        "Will I ever get to put my cock into you, Connor?"

        "No laddie."

        Thinking something amiss, Duncan asked how Connor's Quickening bud was fed.  "There's the beauty of it, lad!  Yer have to get it to a certain size within the first twenty years of your Immortality.  And then yer right.  I had a good teacher who fed mine every day, just like I will yours.  Later, yew can become the teacher and take some poor youngling like yerself under yer care and protection, just like I am with yew.  Now turn over Duncan, so I can get more grease onto meself and yew and let's see how well we fit.  Back on yer knees, lad."

        Duncan felt as if he were being mounted by a bear.  His kilt was still thrown over the top half of his body with total abandon and Connor's large hand was again pumping and milking his cock for all it was worth.  He felt a hot hard piece of flesh begin to penetrate him.

        Connor watched the glistening rosebud in sizzling anticipation.  For him, all the events of the evening had been leading towards this moment, when his throbbing cock would penetrate the steamy silken folds of this gorgeous creature and he would feel himself squeezed into mindless oblivion.  He took a firm hold of both of Duncan's hips and started the slow entry, Duncan's cries and moans egging him on to even greater peaks of ecstasy.

        "Connor...please....it hurts......yer too big Connor......God...."

        "Breathe deeply lad.....there.....ssshh...shhh...t'is all right young Duncan...all right......" and reaching around he took Duncan's swollen member in his hand again, as he reached down to nip the back of his neck and ears.  Finally, he was all the way in and as he started thrusting with some passion, Duncan's moans told him all he needed to know about his pleasure center being once again found.  All that could be heard was the slapping of Connor's balls against Duncan's golden cheeks and the panting and groaning of the two men until finally a crescendo was reached when both screamed out their delirium.  Connor collapsed onto Duncan's strong back, his cock already beginning to soften.

        "Leave it in, Connor.  Please."

        "Aye lad, for a little while.  But then it must come out wi' me."

        A little while later Connor slowly withdrew from Duncan's bruised and battered buttocks and gently turned him over.  "Are ye all right, young Duncan MacLeod?"

        "Aye Connor.  More than all right.  I didna know it could be like that."

        "And that's why yew have me.  Yer lookin' stronger already lad.  I'll get some water and clean yew and then we'll get some sleep and see what comes up in the morning, eh."

        And thus was set the pattern for young Duncan MacLeod's initiation into all matters Immortal.  Steel swordplay throughout the day and silken steel swordplay every sunrise and sunset and at whatever times in between Connor felt Duncan needed extra strengthening.

        But as the months passed by, Duncan found his thoughts turning increasingly to the women he always fantasized about.  And for once, he wished, just once, he would love to be on top, feeling his own hard cock being massaged in someone else's tight silken channel.

        <<Connor loves the sex, but I just want the love,>>  he once lamented to himself when in the midst of a dark deep brood.

Chapter three

---

      The next two years found Connor teaching Duncan all sorts of necessary skills that he explained were important in keeping their Quickening strong.  Duncan was a ready student, fairly skilled with both types of swords they practiced with. They has started travelling through the country, making their way south.  Connor headed to London, wanting to reestablish his friendships there with certain well-placed, wealthy men.  He had grand plans for the two of them, wanting them both to live like kings among the rich and wealthy.

        They established themselves in London, and Connor set out to equip them both as suited two men of their stature.  Duncan followed Connor to a nearby market area.   There, a multitude of shops and stalls sold clothing, pots, food and any item one could desire.  The whole was serenaded by a cacaphony of voices, as each owner sought to entice the interest of all who wandered by. The only thing Connor had mentioned about the trip was that newer and somewhat less ragged and *odorous* clothing was needed by young Duncan.

        A young girl passed by as they walked through the sea of confusion and clamor.  The radiance of her delicate beauty and vitality were apparent to all who glanced her, that and the round globes of her breasts.  Her bodice nearly reached her navel, leaving her breasts nearly popping out, a match for Duncan's eyes.

        As he stood still, transfixed on the sight retreating from his gaze, Connor said softly in his ear, "'Tis not the way for us, lad. If ya want ta live forever, ya best follow me."

        Duncan shook his head in bewilderment and continued to tread behind Connor, walking on his
benefactor's heels as he granted himself one last glance at the delicacy behind them.  <<How could the mon walk away from *that*?>>  he asked himself.

        Connor's disapproving look suddenly changed to one of grave intent, as he scanned the area with his eyes, all senses heightened by the adrenalin surging through him, the ageless reponse to another of their kind.  Duncan had only time to blink before the same, nearly overwhelming sensation struck him.

        "So, we meet again, Highlander,"  came a low, well-accented voice, the rich sound demanding attention from any who heard it.  "And who do you have with you there?" said the voice, as its originator stepped from behind a wall to their left.

        In the split second it took to raise his arms, Connor whirled and pushed Duncan hard to the side into sheets hanging between houses.  A startled Duncan landed with a soft "oooffff"....into a pile
of sodden laundry, feet in the air and his head on the ground. Before he could voice his protest, he heard the sound of  swords being freed from their scabards. Laying as he was with his head down, the men were hidden from him.

        " 'Tis none o' yer business!" Duncan heard Connnor sputter, his voice announcing his discomfort.

        "Then perhaps I should make it my business and see if I can recoup some of what you owe me," said the rich, deep voice, exquistite in timbre, the words spoken in a measured, steady cadence, full of confidence.  Duncan wondered what had occurred to provoke this sort of reception at a chance meeting.

        His efforts to free himself from the doughy fabric that now plastered itself to his body became a major concern, but he was too occupied with listening to the incredible sound of that voice to realize he was only tangling himself worse as he floundered.

        Deep laughter sounded. "Perhaps he isn't of much value. Is he always this graceful?"  There was a pause as Duncan realized just what he must look like on the other side of the hanging sheets, his kilt thrown up as his legs struggled for purchase. Frantically he tried to grab blindly and draw the fabric down.

        More laughter was heard. "Then again, he looks like he would be a welcome handful.  To teach, of
course," the voice added dryly.

        "C'mon, mon, if ye're lookin' ta fight, lets get on wi' it!"  Connor said angrily.

        All conversation and challenges suddenly ceased as the sounds of children at play echoed down the alleyway, announcing they were no longer alone.

        Throwing one last intrigued look at the figure who continued to struggle wildly with the laundry, the stranger departed as swiftly as the breeze.  "There will be another time, MacLeod," floated after him on the air.

        Duncan could hear the sound of Connor sheathing his sword. "Get up, ya silly creature." A hand thrust through the wet folds of material and Duncan grasped it, allowing Connor to pull him from the tangled mess. He had to peel off layers of wet wool and linen sticking to his face and body one at a time.

        Finally he stood, wet but uncovered.  "Who was tha'?" he asked Connor.

        "Never mind, young Duncan.  We'll leave the area tomorrow and chances are, ye'll not ever have to worry about the Sassenach pig.  C'mon, lets get yer clothes."  Connor pulled the young Scot behind him, leaving the unanswered questions hanging in the air.  He leered at Duncan.  "I've a mind ta see you in satin and lace.  We've got an impression to make in society and you'll help us do it."

---

         One Year Later....

        Duncan hurried into the open doorway, shoving the door closed behind him.  He leaned his forehead against the door, breathing hard.  Why did Connor insist on attending these damn society things? Full of useless people doing useless things. <<And full of tempting, available women he couldn't have,>> his inner voice whispered.  Christ, he was having to literally run from the very objects of his desire!

        He thought of the lush breasts on the female he'd just run from and banged his forehead on the wood.  Connor didn't seem to have a problem ignoring the wiles of the satin-and-jewel-bedecked females that flocked around the two strong Highland warriors at these functions.  But Duncan didn't seem to have Connor's.... outlook.  It had gotten so bad that as soon as he entered a social
function lately, which seemed to be every night, he started to sweat.  Maybe it was the lure of the unattainable that drew them to him, but whatever it was, Duncan was going slightly mad.

        Reaching up with both hands, he leaned more heavily against the door, his cheek pressed to the cool wood.  Surely life hadn't turned out as he had once planned, in more ways than one.  Here he was, the son of a great clan chieftain, the one all the local girls had pursued and fought over, and look at him.  Debra had died before they could even think about consummating their love.  Then he'd been banished from the clan as the Devil's spawn, and that seemed to have a wee bit of an influence on the women from neighboring villages.  No female would go near him after that.  <<Thirty plus years old and still a virgin.>>  His face shifted.  <<Almost.>>  At least in the way that counted to him.

        He wished he could find the satisfaction that Connor did in their relationship, but it seemed elusive, unattainable. God knows, Connor tried often enough.  He certainly didn't seem to find anything lacking in their experiences.  He kept Duncan close to his side most of the time, jealous of any attention another might give him.  Only occasionally at grand functions such as this party by the Earl of Westley did Duncan find chance and excuse to slip away from Connor's eagle eye.

        He banged his head again on the heavy wood.  The future stretched out endlessly before him, taunting with its emptiness.  Bloody hell, was this all there would be to his existance? Having to forever deny his own desires, to endure Connor's passionate but uninspiring embrace?  Forever doomed to wacking off other's heads?  <<And his own, if he wanted satisfaction.>>

        Suddenly, Immortal Presence nearly overwhelmed him, and he whirled around, eyes wild.  He was in the library, lit by a cheery fire in the fireplace and scattered tapers which tried hard to pierce the deep gloom of the large room.   "Who goes there?" he spoke out.  A movement up above drew his eyes to the balcony encircling the room.  A figure stood there, leaning against the railing, watching him.  "What do you want?" he enquired again, examining the other man.  It wasn't often he got to interact with other Immortals.  Connor worked hard at keeping them far away from others of their kind, telling Duncan it was to keep him safe.  <<Why then did he sweat and work everyday to perfect his swordsmanship, if only to cower back from possible confrontations?>>  He fingered his sword at his side.

        A deep, well-educated voice came from above. "Nothing more than peace and quiet away from the noisy crowd outside. Have no fear, I mean you no threat."  He turned away as if to lose himself again in the stacks.

        Duncan was irked. "How d'ye know I mean ye nae harm?" he asked menacingly.  Then he stilled, caught as his mind cast backwards, searching for the time when he had once before heard this same rich voice.  "Do I know yew?" Duncan asked, his voice now full of wariness, hand tightening convulsively on his sword.

        Searching for a way to guard his anonymity, the voice spoke softly, "Have you ever seen me before?"   He watched as Duncan frowned without answering.  The figure shifted and seemed to sigh.  "You seemed much more involved in whatever had you running into this room and banging your head in frustration,  rather than looking for another head to take."

        That seemed to deflate the angry one.  "Oh, aye, that's th' truth."  He tapped his hat against his leg absently and stood looking dejected.

        Adam Payton took a closer look at the younger Immortal below.  He was a stunning looking creature,  decked out in beautiful brocaded satin and lace, his dark hair shining and waving over his shoulders proudly.  The air of weariness he gave off sparked Adam's interest against his will.  And then there was something else, something familiar about this man. Somewhere.....

        "What has you looking so unhappy, my friend?  Can't decide which beautiful lady to bed for the night?"  he spoke lightly.

        A pained look came into the young one's eyes.  "That's nae humorous."  He pushed off from the door and went to stand by the fire.

        <<Curious,>>  thought Adam.  He walked to the circular stairs and came down them lightly, moving over near the other Immortal.  "Fine, then. Can't decide which handsome man to bed?"  He was surprised when the younger one didn't react to his sarcasm, but simply sighed.

        "Connor'd kill me if he caught me wi' another," he muttered.  Adam's eyebrows rose.  The younger man went on.  "I owe him so much, I dinna want ta hurt him.  It's just... I dinna love him, see?  And he won't let me out o' his sight!" Duncan felt immediately guilty at having revealed something so personal to this total stranger and wondered what it was about him that drew him to reveal such intimacies.

        Not much surprised the world's oldest Immortal, but he had to admit, this one surely had him pausing.  He had been around for a long, long, time and he never would have pegged this young one for being other then a skirt-chaser.

        Though his eyes had narrowed at the sound of the name, he never changed the intonation in his voice as he asked quietly, "And who is Connor?"

        "Ma teacher.  If no' for him, I'd no' have survived."

        Adam looked at the guileless brown eyes.  "New, are you?"

        That had the darkly beautiful creature in front of  him bristling, stiffening in denial as he turned to fully face him.  "Nae, it's been over five years!" he protested.  "I can take care o' myself just fine, thank you, and wield a sword with the best o' them."

        The elder was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud.  Five years to his five *thousand*.  Hardly sporting.  But fun nevertheless.  He bowed in a flurry of lace.

        "Adam Payton, at your service."

        The younger automatically returned the gesture.  "Duncan MacLeod o' the clan MacLeod."

        "Ah, a Highlander."

        "Aye.  Connor's also m' clansman too, y'see." His face fell.  "Th' only one I've got left."

        Connor *MacLeod*.  Adam stiffened imperceptably as the memory teasing his mind fell into place. Not long ago, a village, no a fair, no...a market place, in an alley between houses. He was certain of it! This was the same incredible creation he had glimpsed but once before he was hidden from his view.  Excitement and intrigue flowed in his mind as he regarded  the young Immortal before him.  His mouth quirked at the lasting memory he carried of a bare-assed apparition, draped with wet linen and flapping his arms as if to take flight.  <<Yes, he does look much better without the laundry,>> he mused to himself, <<though a shame he's all covered up in those luscious satins.>>

        He walked over to a table and poured out two goblets of drink.  "Here," he handed one to Duncan, waiting for him to take a sip, then turned on the charm.  "Please, sit. Talk to me." He gestured to the chairs before the fireplace, his voice dark silk.  "How long have you and Connor been together?"

        Duncan sighed from the depths of his chair.  "Three years.  We found each other in Scotland.  I- I dinna know wha' I'd ha' done wi'out him."

        <<Ye gods. Please.>>  He kept his face sympathetic.  "But it sounds like you're not happy with your... Connor.  Why not leave him, then?"

        The beautiful face twisted.  "Och, I couldna do that.  It'd kill him.  He's spent so much time and money on me, trainin' with me, teachin' me how to read, buyin' me clothes..." His eyes fell. "An' anyway, he's the only thing I ha' left o' my clan."

        Adam kept his face impassive.  <<Was this young one for real?>>  He saw the anguish in the soulful brown eyes. <<How best to use this one? A perfect opportunity to bring down the one who calls himself his teacher.  First things first.>>

        He perched on the arm of young Duncan's chair, sipping his drink casually.   "Have you
been with your- with Connor the whole time?"

        "Nae.  I was on ma own for a few years before I found him."

        "What were you doing during that time?"

        " Survivin'," he said simply.  "The Highlands are beautiful, but unfergivin' to a lone man.  An' all the clans in the area avoided me after ma own banished me."

        <<Wonderful. Of course he views his teacher as a savior.>>  "So you've not...been with any other since then?"

        Duncan looked embarrassed.  "Actually, ye're the first o' our kind I've had a chance to talk to alone.  Connor's always wi' me, y' see.  He- he wants to protect me."

        <<No doubt. Keep the pigeon from flying the coop.>>  "What had you so upset when you first came into the library?"

        Now the younger one looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I wanted-  They always-" he sputtered, then burst out, "I'm always gettin' chased by someone, an' o' course I canna do anything about it.  An' Connor's always around, always wanting to-  you know."  He made a gesture with both hands.

        Adam bit his lip.  Hard.

        "An' I feel like I'm walkin' around in a permanent condition, if ye understand, because he doesna-  I never-" Duncan came to a frustrated halt, then continued in an oddly dignified voice.  "I dinna think we suit."

        Adam stared in amazment before mentally shaking himself out of it.  <<Don't lose the opportunity.>>  "Who might suit you, Duncan MacLeod," he asked, lowering his voice  to a soft murmur, purposefully changing his demeanor and aura.  He had the act of shifting personas down to an art.  The young one never stood a chance.

        Duncan heard the change in tone and swung his eyes around slowly.   His breath stopped.  Adam lazed indolently on the arm of the chair, his own arm draped over the wing, eyes dark with invitation, penetrating in their intensity.  The young one stared, fixated, immobile.  Caught by five thousand years of experience in sensuality being aimed his way.  The room started darkening around the edges of his vision and he realized that he needed to breath.  A gasping breath echoed audably in the still room.

        Duncan jumped up as if someone had lit a fire under him.  In five steps he managed to find refuge on the other side of a settee.  "I-I-I- I dinna know.  B-But it's a moot point, since I dinna wan' ta hurt Connor, aye?"  He stood stiffly, avoiding the older Immortal's gaze.  He hadn't really looked at the other Immortal before, but now his image was nearly seared onto his eyelids.  Long, dark hair in casual disarray contrasted with fashionably pale skin and an angular, patrician face.  His velvet doublet was undone, exposing the fine cotton lawn underblouse dripping with lace.  That too was unbuttoned, as if Duncan had interrupted more than a simple library search.  The image of this stranger in a passionate embrace teased his mind, sending more shocking feelings through him.  He suddenly needed to leave.

        He swept his hat wide as he made a stiff bow, still avoiding the gaze of Adam.  "I must leave, Connor'll miss me."  Placing the wide-brimmed hat back on his head, he made for the door.  As his hand pushed the latch, Adam's dark voice spoke up once more.

        "We'll meet again, Duncan MacLeod."

        Against his will, his gaze locked one last time with the disturbing Immortal before he pulled the door shut behind him.  He nearly ran back down the hall in the same manner he'd run toward the library earlier.  By the time he regained the main rooms, his breathing was back to normal and the flush he felt creep over his skin had left.  But he couldn't stop the rush of blood everytime his mind replayed the look in Adam Payton's eye.

        A sideboard groaned under heaps of food and drink, servants waiting to tempt with plates full of delicacies.  Duncan took a goblet of wine and quaffed it back, getting an immediate refill.  The drink helped calm his nerves.  He didn't know what happened back there in the library, but it confused him, scared him.  *Excited him*.  That was the most disturbing.

        "There ya are, Duncan laddie.  I'd lost ye for a while and was worried."  Blue-grey eyes searched his.  "Everythin' well?"

        Duncan forced himself to relax.  "Fine, Connor.  I simply wanted to find some peace and quiet away from th' crowds." He gestured to the milling people.  "How can ya stand all this night after night?"

        Connor placed his arm casually around the taller Scot.  "We're doin' quite well fer ourselves.  Never look a gift horse in th' mouth, ya see.  If the current bunch of bloody nobles finds us entertainin' then we'll be bloody entertainin'.  Somethin' worthwhile'll come out o' it, ye'll see." He saw the discontent and fatigue overshadow Duncan's usual bright smile and wisely decided to not push it.  "If ye're tired, let's leave then, shall we?  Go home, rest."

        Duncan readily agreed. He was exhausted all of a sudden and wanted nothing more than his bed, even if Connor would be in it.  They walked through the hall making for the front entrance to the palatial home of the Earl.  They had reached the grand entrance hall when both stiffened, turning to look through the crowd.  Both sets of eyes fell upon a man standing on the far side of the hall, a tall slim figure in dark blue velvet.  Duncan felt Connor become rigid as his gaze registered the other Immortal and he heard him curse under his breath.

        " *Bloody whoreson*."

        But by then Duncan had already tangled eyes once more with Adam, the mysterious result happening once again.  He was shaken out of it by Connor.

        "C'mon, Duncan, he's nobody, no threat. Our bed awaits at home."  Connor virtually grabbed Duncan by the arm and pulled him out the double doors.

        They made their way home quickly in the late of the night, making short work of disrobing and climbing under the blankets piled high against the chill.  But Duncan never felt it.  The heat burned in him still from Adam's last glance.

Chapter four

---

        A few months later...

        I think we could get used to this life, eh, Duncan?"  Connor played with an errant strand of his  young student and lover's hair as they lay abed in the sumptuous chamber.  "Two weeks at  Falkton's country estate... "  He sighed contentedly.

        Duncan took another bite of the apple he'd plucked from the breakfast tray.  "Oh aye, 'tis grand, no doubt.  But all th' people! It'd be better if they'd go away.  I hate th' crowds."

        Connor laughed. "It'd hardly be a house party wi'out the guests, would it, laddie?"

        Duncan sighed. "Guess no'."  He sighed again as his teacher embraced him tightly, nuzzling the side of his neck.  Putting the apple core aside, he was patient as the older Immortal worked himself into a passionate state.  He liked Connor, he really did, it was just that... for some time now, he felt nothing, nothing at all, during lovemaking with the other man.  God knows he wanted to, but unless he took himself in hand, as it were, and helped the process along, he'd never get any satisfaction. That never bothered Connor.  As long as he was able to find his own, he didn't seem to find it upsetting that his young kinsman wasn't responding to him.

        Duncan had a whole repertoire of fantasies he played out in his head that helped him 'deal' with the lack of actual excitement his partner generated in him.  Women, of all shapes and sizes, paraded through his mind, dressed, undressed, in every situation conceivable.  Lately, though, there had been new fantasy creep into his mind while he was nearly asleep or barely awake.  He could see a tall, slender hazel-eyed man with a voice like fine brandy and the thought of that voice whispering to him nearly sent Duncan off all on its own.  The thoughts had so scared Duncan, he barely slept that first night it happened.  But since then, he had time to begin to get used to the idea that he might, after all, be able to find satisfaction as an Immortal.  <<Thank god,>>  he thought. <<I dinna have ta worry about goin' blind.>>

        The house party was being held at Lord Falkton's estate. There were so many guests in attendance that Duncan was sure he'd never see them all.  Each and every bedroom in the many wings of the sprawling medieval fortress were occupied.  The many public rooms were constantly filled with milling guests.  The large hall's table groaned under the weight of food that servants were preparing and serving from dawn to midnight to feed the hungry horde.

        Stables filled with beautiful horses were busy as guests went for rides round the countryside.  The rear lawns were filled with people playing ball games and the gardens with people trying to make assignations to wile the hours away.

        Connor revelled in society, in the social aspects of their lifestyle.  He was found wherever laughter could be heard, wherever the most outrageous event was occurring.  Duncan found it all so very boring, and faded into the background, dreaming of his Highlands and the hills and lochs.  With Connor so preoccupied and busy, the younger Highlander decided to head for the stables to find a sturdy mount and ride out into the gentle rolling hills around Falkton's estate. It wasn't the Highlands, but it was better then nothing.

        The day had dawned sunny and mild, a perfect day for everyone to be out of doors.  Duncan found a beautiful strong bay stallion and didn't bother waiting for the poor overworked servants, but saddled it himself, slipping out the back while no one was looking.  He cantered away toward the distant lake, enjoying the feeling of fresh air and sun on his face.  As he warmed up, he pulled off the heavy doublet he wore, leaving him in a fine white linen shirt and his britches and boots, his plumed hat waving in the breeze.

        A large stand of oak, ash and cedar surrounded the estate lake.  Duncan approached it after a long exhilerating gallop over the hills and slid off the blowing horse, the exercise having warmed up both mount and rider considerably.  He lead the stallion down to the water's edge with no trouble and both took a drink from the crystaline waters.  Stretching, Duncan contemplated a short nap here at the water's edge when he felt the strong sensation of another's Quickening fill his senses.

        In no time, his sword was in his hand as he turned around, back to the water, looking for the source.

        "I told you one day we would meet again, Duncan MacLeod," a laughing voice informed him.

        <<Jesus! that voice.>> Duncan's eyes were drawn to the stand of trees.  There, emerging from their cover, came the Immortal that he'd met months ago, the source of his secret fantasies.  He stared, appalled and elated at the same time, scared and excited.  Adam sauntered slowly toward him, his eyes locked on him.  He was dressed much as Duncan was, exquisite finery casually opened or tossed aside in deference to the warmth and comfort.  His long straight hair was unbound, brushing his shoulders as he walked, the breeze blowing strands in his unusual-colored eyes.  His breeches were snug, outlining every muscle and lump as he moved down the slope and Duncan couldn't help himself as his eyes were drawn to that sight, and that of his open shirt.

        Duncan felt himself flush a rosy red and still couldn't find words to say to the sight slowly walking toward him. He had fantasized this many times, but never truly expected it to happen. Now that it was upon him, he was paralyzed by fear.

        "Are you planning on challenging me, Duncan?"  Adam gestured to the sword he still brandished in his hands.

        Duncan looked down at it stupidly.  "Och, nae.  Ye- ye startled me, 'tis all."  He replaced it in the scabbard on the horse's saddle.  A painful silence seemed to stretch forever until Adam took pity on the glorious creature standing with his back to him, as he pretended to tighten the girth strap.  The scene gave Adam an opportunity to luxuriate in the cascade of Duncan's hair, now free of restraint, and tumbling down his back like a raven waterfall.

        "So, once again, Duncan MacLeod, we find each other trying to escape from the many delectations and delights laid on for us by Lord Falkton."  Adam found himself quite intrigued by this youngling. It wasn't just his beauty.  In his five thousand years he had seen many beautiful people.  It was something indefinable.  But Adam Peyton wasn't used to being beaten in matters of the flesh, or in any other way, and he resented the number of times the image of this creature had insinuated itself into his thoughts and bed.  He determined to understand more about this gloriously sensual warrior and what it was that, against his will, was ensnaring his interest so.

        Duncan turned slowly and it was all Adam could do to stop himself from groaning aloud.  The sun chose just that moment to stream through a broken cloud, bathing the creature in golden sunlight. His color was roseate from the ride and his lips were unbelievably, enticingly moist and seemingly swollen.  <<Dear gods, no man's lips could look as naturally wanton as those lips look..>>  Duncan's soft cream shirt was clinging to his body with the sweat from the ride and Adam noticed that he was holding his fine plumed hat below his waist, preventing further explorations and observations.

        "Aye, Mr Peyton.  Connor knows that I dinnae like these functions.  But he does and there's the end to it."  Duncan looked away, feeling tongue-tied and silly in front of the beautifully assured and clearly far more experienced Mr. Peyton.

        "Call me Adam, Duncan."  <<Reel him in, Adam.  Slowly.  Slowly.  Don't frighten him.>>

        "Adam...I'd like tha'.  I like the way you call me 'Duncan'."

        "But that's your name isn't it?  Duncan?"  Adam looked genuinely perplexed.

        "Oh aye.  But Connor always calls me Young Duncan.  And others always call me MacLeod.  Or worse!"  At that he laughed, and Adam Peyton was suddenly genuinely worried that his blood would stop its coursing or his heart its beating.  When the creature laughed, his eyes shone with a love of life and living that Adam had not seen in centuries.  Indeed, he had not fully realised what had gone from his life.  Until now.  Until Duncan MacLeod laughed.  And opened the doorway to a warmth and joy that no man had a right to.  He would have to be on his guard, he decided, against the wanton charms, the seductive sensuality, the urge to sin, with this glorious Highlander.

        "I will always call you Duncan.  Or Highlander.  Would you like that, Highlander?"

        "Aye.  I'd like that verra much, Adam."  Duncan couldn't believe this turn of events in his life.  After so many months, he never expected to set eyes on Adam Peyton again.  And here he was, once again, alone with him.  Away from Connor and prying eyes and chattering mouths full of emptiness.  He knew that Connor would already be looking for him but determined to stay as long as he could with his new friend.  Adam Peyton.  Which meant, he realised, that he would have to start talking, or Adam would get bored and leave.  He carefully kept his large hat in front of his very large, swollen cock and tried to think of something intelligent to say, to one as experienced as Adam.

        "And wha' brought yew down here?" <<Brilliant, ya idiot. 'Tis sure to keep him amused and talkin' to yew.>>

        "The chance for a quiet read.  Would you like to join me?  I enjoy reading to people."  Adam wondered how Duncan would react to the particular subject matter that was currently engaging Adam's interest.

        "Oh aye.  I'd like tha'. Connor's been teachin' me how to read.  I like it."

        "Good.  It's settled.  Put your hat down, Highlander and pull that extra blanket off your horse and come and join me here in this nice quiet grove.  Away from any prying eyes.  And bring the horse with you.  Don't want it giving away our whereabouts."  He flashed Duncan one of his warmest and most engaging smiles. <<You haven't seen anything Highlander, until you've seen Adam Peyton turn on the seductive charm.  The only difference between us is, you don't even know you're doing it!>>

        Duncan turned back to the horse, tied his hat securely to the reigns, and quickly pulled the blanket down in front of him, covering the evidence of his raging excitement.  Walking, with difficulty, up the slight slope, he followed Adam through a heretofore hidden thicket into a totally secluded and shaded grove.  Adam had clearly been here for a while as there was already a large blanket laid out and some food and ale.  "Would you like some ale, Duncan?"

        "Aye."  He let the lake-cooled beverage wash away the dryness in his throat, a dryness that had been here since Adam appeared before him. When he looked up, Adam had seated himself on the rug, his back against a tree and his lower limbs sprawled seductively against the dark wool.  His skin was ivory to the Highlander's gold, and all Duncan's yearnings screamed out to touch this living statue, lazing so languidly before him.  Tapping the ground in front of him, Adam indicated that Duncan should make himself comfortable.

        "I'm sorry Duncan, but I don't have a pillow.  But you can rest your head on my legs if you like."

        <<Sweet Jesus.  What's happenin' tae me.  'Tis nae fair to Connor.  I should nae be here.>>  But he knew that there was no force on heaven or earth that was going to remove him from this hidden grove, and from the side of the man who had so successfully filled his fantasies for months.  And there was one truth that Duncan MacLeod knew beyond all others.  That if he succumbed and lay down near this man, then he was surely lost.  And he wished it so.

        Falling to his knees, he turned around and sat down, gathered his hair in both of his hands, lifting its weight over Adam's legs.  He leaned back and placed his head on Adam's' upper thighs, letting his raven curls sprawl all around him.

        <<God's Bloody Teeth. Fucking hell.  Gods, gods, gods, spare us.>>   Adam was vaguely aware of another two minutes of silent oaths in various languages as the dark angel laid himself out before him, looking up at him with the largest, most light filled eyes that Adam had ever, in his long life, seen. And what ensured that the scene was indelibly etched on Adam Peyton's soul, was the trust and the innate purity in those eyes, which emanated from every pore in the gorgeous youngling's body.  Suddenly he understood every action of Connor MacLeod's when it came to keeping such a one beside him, and safe.

        "And what are yew going ta read ta me, Adam?

        "It's a new novel by Alaric Patterson-Methoson called  'Love's Fury'.  It's become quite the best seller in London and Paris.  Lie back, close your eyes and see what you think, Highlander."  And so saying Adam began to read Duncan the story of a glorious Highland warrior, with waist-length dark raven curls and skin of gold and eyes of liquid chocolate.  "But it was the dark warrior's lips that drew Adama's cornflower blue eyes and, clutching her breast, she started to pant heavily as her fingers reached up to touch the luscious hot, moist, lips now moving towards her heaving bosom.  The Highlander's large callused hands, hands that could kill, now reached fiercely down inside her odice to cup her perfect alabaster breasts.  He started to squeeze, searching for the hard erect nipples..."

        "'Tis a coincidence, Adam, is it no', that that man sounds so much like maself.  'Tis a torture.  'Tis so easy to imagine maself as that man, but o' course it can never be.  Not wi'out losing some o' ma Quickenin'."

        "That's true enough, Duncan.  *La petite mort*  is the closest thing I know to a Quickening.  And you certainly lose your body and soul to them."  Adam wasn't quite sure if this was what the gorgeous creature was referring to, but it seemed to satisfy him.

        " 'Tis a huge price we pay, Adam, for our Immortality.  To bring no women to child-bed."

        "Yes.  It is."

        Duncan was relieved to hear that not being able to bed women was as painful to Adam Peyton as it was to himself.  Although, he found that if it had not been for the book Adam was reading to him, he would not have even thought about women and their creamy breasts.  He was more than content to lie and dream of Adam.  Suddenly a plan formed in his head.

        "Adam.  How old are yew?"

        "Very, very old."

        "Older than Connor?"

        "Yes. Oh yes."

        "Then it wouldna be wrong o' me to ask yew to feed ma Quickening, would it?  Connor's been helpin' me for the past two years but it seems ta me tha' some new cream from such an old Immortal could make me even stronger.  Wha' say yew, Adam?"

        Adam found himself completely incapable of saying anything, since words required thought.  And thought required a functioning brain.  And Adam's appeared to have burned out, leaving his mind totally blank.  But this was currently being compensated for by a raging fire in his groin.

        Struggling, he found his voice.  "You know Duncan, I think that that would be a very good idea. And I can't think of anyone at this moment that I would rather give my 'cream' to."

        Adam was suddenly aware that he was going to have to watch himself very carefully.  After all, he had spent centuries cutting himself off from all close friendships, from caring about living creatures, and had lived his many lives in the pages of his prized Journals and Chronicles and recently, the cheap chap books that came to him so easily and earned him large sums of money.  And with wonders like Duncan MacLeod for inspiration, he rationalised, his next novel could be a sensation.

        And who would have thought that the youngling would be so easy to prise away from that whoreson, Connor MacLeod.  Here was his protege, his lover, sprawled across Adam's legs like a lamb to the slaughter.  <<Delicious revenge>>,  he reassured himself, now satisfied that his feelings were simply pleasure at having captured the heart of Connor's love.  <<Thank the gods.  For a moment there I feared I was actually having some warm feelings towards the youngling. And Adam Peyton has spent centuries ensuring that he looks out for no one but himself.>>

        Duncan knew what he wanted, and was determined he was going to have it, Connor or no Connor. "I know this is wrong, Adam, and 'tis nae fair to Connor.  But I want yew.  I want to kiss yew and touch yer skin all over with me fingers and lips.  Will yew let me, Adam?  Please.  Connor says I am passin' fair at giving pleasure and fer yew I'd do anythin' to give ya pleasure and make yew want me..."  Duncan had arisen, in more ways than one, Adam noted, and had taken Adam's hands and held them against the tree trunk while he continued to whisper passionate endearments into Adam's right ear.  When he didn't protest, Duncan continued to kiss him, luxuriating in the feeling of having his responsive mouth actually having another to kiss, like this.

        "Connor does no' like to be kissed like this," he whispered against Adam's mouth.  "An' I never have th' urge ta do it, even if he did.  He just works on filling ma throat and, you know...down there...., with his Quickening cream.  And stretching ma cock.  Connor says that all his hard work is beginning ta pay off and that ma cock is now worth the time he puts into it...."  Duncan skilfully removed his own trousers, revealing his wondrous silken shaft to Adam's hungry gaze.

        Adam was only half hearing what the exquisite creature was mumbling but what he could decipher struck him as decidedly peculiar.  <<Quickening cream?? 'Passing' fair?>>

        Duncan felt himself beginning to lose all control as the man below him allowed him to actually fondle him and touch him and caress him.  Ripping off Adam's shirt, Duncan seized his nipple with his teeth and began to suckle at the breast, trying desperately to extract any juices that might be there.  All Adam could see was Duncan's magnificent mouth passionately searing its way across his upper torso, followed by layer upon layer of his luxuriant mane, tickling its way across every surface it encountered.  Suddenly Duncan stopped and unbuttoned Adam's trousers and slowly pulled them down the longest legs he had ever seen.  They were so different to Connor's and his own.  These were the legs of a Greek god, just like so many of the statues that Duncan had seen in so many of the rich houses that he and Connor has stayed in.  Finally, Adam Peyton was totally nude, and Duncan pulled him towards his chest as he laid back on the blanket in the position Connor had explained to him was the correct one for youngsters.

        Adam saw what was being offered and thought he might go mad if he didn't get his cock buried in the hot moist, silken mouth opening itself to him.  Duncan grasped his hips, and pulled Adam's weight down on top of him as he took his full length deep into his throat.  He started to thrash at the amazing sensations of having a different rod to suck, such different tastes.  All he wanted to do was give Adam as much pleasure as possible and after some ten minutes of exploring every possible surface of his iron hard rod he knew that he could give Adam more.  Gently, he moved Adam's hips so that the living statue rose above him.  And it was at that time that Duncan noticed that there was no Quickening spot behind his balls, proving that he was indeed a much older and experienced immortal.

        "Connor says that mine's finally turned blue and that that's a good sign..."

        Adam fought back through the mists of annihilation currently surrounding him, to dimly register what the strippling was saying.  He assumed he was referring to his cock.  "The veins can do that..." he gasped vaguely.

        Duncan had no idea what Adam was referring to, but put his ignorance down to his youth and again thanked the heavens for his having been found by Connor when he had been. <<I'd hae been mortified if Adam had seen ma Quickenin Spot when it was red and realised how weak I was then.>>

        He gently pushed Adam off his chest and rolled over onto his stomach and got onto his knees.  "Please, Adam.  I want you to pleasure yerself on me.  I'm strong.  Yew can do what ye like."

        Adam suddenly found himself speechless.  He couldn't recall the last time any living creature had so genuinely and sincerely put Adam's pleasure above his or her own like this and he found himself feeling unusually humbled, a sensation he had not experienced for millenia.  It was an exhilerating and uncomfortable feeling.

        "Feed ma Quickenin',  please Adam.  Please."

        Adam moved behind him and reached down to coat his cock with some of the butter he'd brought for his picnic.  Duncan's golden backside waved before him, the luscious rosebud beckoning him enter.  Reaching down he smeared butter over it and gently reached as far inside as he could reach.  From Duncan's gutteral cries he was clearly being successful in finding his pleasure spot.  Clasping Duncan's hips, he began the penetration.  "How do you want it Duncan," he whispered.  "Slow?  Or hard and fast?"

        Duncan wasn't used to being consulted about such things but was not about to let the opportunity pass by.  "Start slow an' then get faster and faster.  I like ta feel the balls slappin against me arse, Adam."

        <<*Gods*.>>  The way the Highlander spoke of such things as if they were the most natural in the world, was almost enough to make Adam come before he'd even fully penetrated.  He took Duncan at his word and took an age to fully sheath his throbbing member in the wondrous Scottish arse on offer before him.  Looking down he watched in awe as his slick member sought longingly, and then retreated, again, and then retreated, until he was totally mesmerised by the dance as it played itself out.

        He wasn't even aware of when his rhythm changed, just that it did, and soon he was slamming savagely into the Scot's steamy tight tunnel.  The only sound he was aware of was his heavy balls slapping and beating the skin in its way, as if they were searching also for a way to sheath themselves in the sweet darkened passage before them.  Adam came to when he heard someone screaming and realised that it was him.  <<Fucking hell.  I haven't lost myself like that in centuries.  What's this devil doing to me?,>> he thought, breathing heavily.

        Adam pulled back, suddenly embarrassed at the realisation that he had done nothing to give the sweet young creature before him any pleasure.  "Duncan, I'm so sorry.  I didn't think."

        "Wha' do yew mean, Adam?"  Duncan wasn't used to anyone thinking of his pleasure, all of his experiences with Connor designed solely for Connor's pleasure in order to strengthen Duncan's  Immortality.

        "I mean that I was a selfish pig."  Leaning down he gently kissed the Highlander deeply and passionately.  "Now it's your turn.  How do you want me?  From behind or on my back?"

        "What are yew talking about, Adam?  I dinnae understand.  Connor says that until my Quickenin' is strong enough I always have ta be on the bottom and that I cannae bury meself in another man's arse."

        "Well.  I've been around a lot longer than Connor, Duncan MacLeod.  It's true, many men prefer to always be on top.  But I'm not one of them.  I like it both ways.  Now let's get on with it while your cock is still showing some interest.  It's been ready to explode for quite a while."

        Again, Duncan decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth.  "I'd like to feel it from behind Adam," he said hestitantly.  "Ye sure it would be all right?"

        "I'm sure I can manage, Highlander."  The look of pure joy on Duncan's face completely unnerved Adam and he quickly turned and offered himself, hoping to avoid too much more thinking about this extraordinary young creature.  Duncan coated his now reawakened rod with the butter and began to prepare Adam in the way he himself had been prepared daily for over two years.  Remembering his manners, he asked Adam how he would like it.  "Fuck me as hard as you can, Duncan.  I like to feel it coming out my mouth."

        Duncan needed no further invitation and rammed his rod straight into Adam's ivory backside.  Adam howled with delight and the Highlander suddenly felt all reason and sanity depart as he rode this bucking stallion as hard as he could.  He was delirious with the pleasure, never ever having had his cock encased in another living soul.  <<Hands are good but they don't compare with this.>>

        He held on for as long as possible, but finally the rising crescendo was too much for his already overloaded senses and every part of his body seemed to explode as he physically jumped Adam's body forward.  Automatically he reached up and pulled the prone body in front of him upright, so that Adam's back was lying against the Highlander's chest.  With his other hand he managed to reach around and seize Adam's cock and stretch it further than seemed humanly possible.

        When it was over, he felt his member soften inside Adam and he reluctantly withdrew.  Quickly he spun around to sink his teeth and mouth on the engorged cock swinging in  he breeze before him, determined to get as much of Adam's Quickening cream as possible. It didn't take long for Adam to spray what seemed like gallons down the very receptive throat of the Highlander, who couldn't seem to get enough of Adam Peyton and his considerable assets.

        <<A fucking bloody natural,>> was the only thought Adam was capable of.

        Some time later, after they had swum the stickiness and sweat off their bodies, Duncan felt capable of talking.  "I never knew that it could be like that.  Yer the first person I ever did tha' wi', Adam."

        Adam couldn't believe his ears. But despite the overwhelming sensations he was still feeling, he was determined that he was *not* going to lose his heart to this amazing Scot, this wanton, passionate, sensually unbelievable invitation to sin and sorrow that he knew would surely follow if he listened to his heart's whisperings. <<But that need not preclude>>, he agreed with his baser self, <<more such pleasurable interludes>>.  Particularly if they provided an opportunity to have his revenge on Duncan MacLeod's "other" lover.

        Turning to watch Duncan clothe his magnificent body he once gain seized control.  When he spoke, his voice was distant, bored. "That was wonderful, Duncan.  Thank you.  Perhaps we might repeat it one day when we're both feeling bored with life's other pleasures."

        Duncan turned large shocked eyes on Adam, wondering what he had done to have caused such a change in attitude on the part of his new lover.  He was emotionally overrought from the afternoons' experience and the guilt he was feeling. And now it appeared it had all been for naught.

        Unable to speak, a large tear started to make its way down his cheek, and with that one thing, all of Adam Peyton's feigned objectivity and bravado dissolved as he pulled the weeping Highlander into is arms, asking forgiveness for having spoken so.  "But we must be careful, Duncan.  Shh.  It's all right.  I'm sorry.  It's just that I'm not used to feeling so for any other.  We'll meet again, Duncan MacLeod.  I promise."

        And with that, both men found their patient horses and mounted, riding their separate ways back to the vacuous gaity of Lord Falkton's estate.

        And, in Duncan's case, one very displeased Connor MacLeod.

Chapter five

---

      The next few days flew by in a haze for young Duncan MacLeod.  He was grateful that Connor was so busy with all the social events their hosts had planned for the hundred or so guests.  Since Duncan had never evinced much enthusiasm for these frolics, it gave him much more opportunity to slip away and meet his new lover.  He lived in a constant state of excitement, from both the anticipation of his next rendevous with Adam and from his fear that his teacher and mentor would discover his student's perfidy.  This perpetual tension had Duncan nearly jumping out of his skin everytime he felt the Presence of another Immortal until he discovered which of his lovers it was.  It was the best of times..... it was the worst of times.  The very real possibility of losing his head had crossed his mind more than once.

        Connor, even though he was caught up in the daily amusements, was beginning to act the jealous lover.  Just that morning when they lay abed, talking about plans for the coming day, he began to question his young kinsman.

        "So, laddie, why don't ye come wi' me today?  There's a group goin' in to town, visitin' the local shops. We can git ye a book ta read," he tempted.

        Duncan sighed. "Och, Connor... I thank yew fer thinkin' about me but I dinna want ta be wi' a crowd o' these people all day long."

        Conner was more than a little annoyed at his young student and lover's preoccupation with things unknown.  "Just what are ye doin' every day, young Duncan?  I barely see ye all day long.  'Tis starting to be more than a little upsettin' ta me.  Who're ye spendin' yer time wi'?"  He peered through narrowed eyes at Duncan laying next to him in the tall carved bed.

        "I'm readin', Connor.  Lord Falkton has the biggest library ye've ever seen, wi' books in languages the world over." That was no lie, but the next was. His throat closed up. "I'm not wi' anyone. Ye know I dinna care for these parties, Connor, but I know ye do, so here we are."  He couldn't even ask his usual question of 'when were they going to leave' because that would indicate he wanted to, and of course, now he didn't. He wanted to stay here and keep spending time with Adam. <<If we leave, I may never get ta see him again>>, he worried.

        Connor was eyeing him closely.  "I think I want ya to come wi' us today, laddie. Ye look like ye need a good ride to put the sparkle back in yer eyes." He lowered his voice. "O'course, I could give ye a good ride right here in our room-"

        Duncan jumped up from the bed. "I dinna want ta go wi' ye taday, Connor, an' that's th' end o' it!"  He disappeared around the edge of the privacy screen set up at the other end of the room.

        Connor's voice came easily enough around its meager shield. "Hell, Duncan, no need ta jump down ma throat. I'm just tryin' to think o' you, and how do I get repaid? Ya let yer temper fly.  I better leave afore I let me own fly loose. Two angry MacLeods won't do us any good, now will it?" Duncan heard Connor pulling on his clothes and getting himself ready for the day.

        "If ye change yer mind-" Connor began.

        "Nae, Connor, I ha' nae plans ta change me mind. It's made an' that's an end ta it."  Duncan said firmly.  In answer he heard the door slam with Connor's exit.

        He sat looking out the window with his elbows on his knees, thinking.  <<That's the first time I talked so sharply ta Connor. He's bound ta be angry wi' me, but I dinna care>>, he thought defiantly.  <<I want ta spend time with Adam, an' nothing's goin' ta stop me!>>  Eagerly, he began to dress, finally allowing himself to anticipate the dawning morning.

        Duncan's favorite meeting place was the lake where they had first made love.  It was away from prying eyes, far enough for chance encounters with gossiping guests to be doubtful.  As Duncan recounted the conversation between he and Connor earlier, Adam recognised his young lover's fear of being found out by the elder MacLeod.  He felt a strong urge to tell him not to worry, he'd protect the young Highlander from his older kinsman.  His hands wrapped around their favorite tree and dug into the bark, nearly gouging the skin off his fingers in an effort to keep from comforting the dark-haired beauty with this assurance as Duncan whispered his feelings and fears into Adam's ear even as his cock found its own way into the older Immortal. Adam found it unthinkable that he had survived all that he had only to let himself become vulnerable to soft, brown eyes and a sweet ass.   He refused to allow it, and called upon all of his not inconsiderable control and focus to remain clear to the task he had set before himself.

        He managed, but there were moments when Adam Peyton wondered if he had set himself a goal ultimately too far from his reach.  Even while Adam and Duncan were both revelling in the pleasure that seemed to come so easily to them, he too, like Duncan, also knew hated moments of doubt and fear.

        The weather held, beautifully warm and sunny, as if conspiring to help make it as easy as possible for the lovers to find bliss during their assignations.  Duncan was used to swimming in the colder waters of the lochs of Scotland, and found the tepid waters of English lakes to be like bathwater.

        "C'mon, Adam, are ye too cold? Th' water's warm as piss, th' sun's warmed it up this past week," he pleaded, wheedling to get Adam into the water to play.

        Adam stood at the shore, stripped to his small clothes, watching Duncan as he swam and played like an eel.  His enthusiasm was hard to resist, and shaking his head he peeled out of the last of his clothes, tossing them aside before he waded into the opaque waters.  Where he had grown up, water was at a premium and it had been a long, long time before he'd even had the opportunity to learn to swim. While he could now, of course, he never seemed to find the simple joy and entertainment that this mere child before him found in the water.

        He dunked his body under, surfacing and cursing in a few different languages.  "God's bones, Duncan! I thought you said it was warm?"

        "Aye, I did," warm breath blew in his ear as arms came around him from behind.  "If 'tis not warm enough for yew, Adam, let me warm ye maself."   He turned the elder Immortal around in his arms and grasped his hard, lean form close, taking care to rub their cocks together as he placed his mouth over Adam's.  The one thing that gave Duncan great joy was how Adam truly seemed to enjoy kissing Duncan.  He loved the feeling of their mouths mating, tongues dancing together as their bodies pressed close.  The intimacy of the act nearly brought tears to Duncan's eyes. He never knew it could be so beautiful and much more expressive than all the pounding away of cocks and he began to get a good idea of what had been missing from his life for the past three years.

        <<Oh sweet Jesus, what shoul' I do when we leave and Adam isna in my life, isna here to kiss and hold me everyday?>>  That terrible thought flashed through his mind and he gasped in pain, clutching Adam's beautiful white skin tightly as if by sheer force he could keep him by his side.

        Adam felt the large hands tightening on his body and looked.  Duncan's eyes were liquid with some emotion and it tugged at Adam's heart even as it froze it.  <<Don't look at me that way, Highlander. I don't have what you want, what you need, in the end.  This is nothing more than a pleasant interlude for both of us. Soon enough you'll find out what kind of man I really am, and you won't look at me the same way ever again.>>  The thought of losing the love that Duncan could give freely ate at the insides of Adam, but he hardened his heart once more.  <<The goal, focus on the goal.  Naught else matters.>>

He moved quickly, wanting to break the moment and wipe away the look in Duncan's eye.  Before the youngster knew it, he was arse end up and flipping through the air only to land in the water and create a huge splash.  Spluttering as he surfaced, Adam chuckled at him.  "You needed a bit of a cooling down, Highlander."