Please note: This story deals with adult situations and relationships. If this subject matter offends you or if you are not at least 17 years of age, please do not read further.

Thank you - The Author

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This particular story was written as part of the Round Robin project on the HIGHLANDER MAVERICKS list, of which I am a part. It is rated NC-17 for m/m sex both consensual and non-consensual and violence. Hope you enjoy it.

" DOUBT NOT YOUR ELDER"

CHAPTER 1

"Methos! Did you eat the last banana?"

The elder Immortal lifted the straw hat covering his face. He'd lain down in the shade of a Breadfruit tree for his ritual morning nap. Ever since they'd been stranded on this God forsaken island, Methos found it nigh on impossible to hide from his mate. Duncan was always busy doing something. Whether it was building a shelter or gathering coconuts or weaving a damn basket to put some more junk in, MacLeod seemed to be busier than a beaver.

<I wonder if there are beavers around here?> Methos thought to himself.

"Hrumpf! If there were any, Duncan would be building a dam for the pesky animals."

The problem was that if MacLeod was busy, he expected the five thousand year old Immortal to be busy as well. The Highland child just could not seem to grasp the concept of "letting things take care of themselves."

"Methos? Where are you?" MacLeod yelled as he ransacked their meager food supply. He remembered eating fried bananas during his stay in India. Since the fruit was the two Immortals' main dish, he'd thought he'd try it out. "...but, I can't fix anything if I don't have any bananas." The Highlander continued to complain under his breath as he searched diligently for the dozen bananas he'd picked the day before.

Methos sighed and replaced his hat. Perhaps if he ignored the man, he'd get to sleep a little longer. It was hard enough waking up at the crack of dawn listening to those damn sea gulls' chattering. To not be given the opportunity to take a little mid morning snooze was the unpardonable sin. After all, a guy shouldn't be expected to give up all his small pleasures.

"Me--thos!"

"Damn that brat! He just won't give up!" the lanky, hazel eyed man sighed. "All right, already, Duncan MacLeod! I'm up! Are you satisfied?" he yelled as he stomped back down the over grown trail to their shore side camp.

Methos perched his straw hat jauntily on the side of his head and cocked it over his left eye. As he neared the hut he stopped to admire the view. His Highlander was facing away from him and bent over at the waist rummaging through a pile. His long dark hair draped over his broad shoulders and face. The man's only clothing was a pair of shorts. Methos had cut the legs off Mac's khaki trousers. The older Immortal's face formed a devilish smile. He wanted to be able to see as much as his hunky lover as he could. So, he accidentally cut them off above the Scot's hips. The shorts barely covered the Scot's well endowed groin and not much else. Which was exactly what the former Horseman intended. If he could talk the man into staying naked all the time, he'd do that, too. The Highlander wore entirely too many clothes to suit his lover.

"Of course, I could always burn them up and he'd be forced to go sans clothes." he murmured.

Realistically, he'd never talk the Scot into it. Besides, if and when they did get rescued, the man would need something to put on. In the meantime, however, Methos was frequently afforded the pleasurable view upon which he was gazing. He could plainly see almost all of the Highlander's bottom as the scanty material hiked up whenever the athletic Immortal leaned over.

One nice thing about the island was the fact that each Immortal was constantly in range of the other one. He delighted in creeping up on the Scot as he was doing now. MacLeod had gotten so used to Methos' quickening that the older man was able to play as many tricks on the unsuspecting Scotsman as he wished. Slipping up behind his lover, Methos drew back his right hand.

"Methos, come here!" MacLeod yelled, just as he felt a hard whack to his buttocks.

"Ow!" He jumped around to see his miscreant lover grinning like a jackass.

"You rang, O mighty one?" Methos taunted. He smiled at the lovely red imprint his hand left on MacLeod's butt.

Mac rubbed his injured anatomy with his right hand and placed his left one on his hip. "Where have you been? I've been calling you for an hour."

The other Immortal's yellowish green gaze swept over his irate lover. "I was, uh, taking a walk."

MacLeod shook his head. "Yeah, sure. You were curled up asleep somewhere, you mean."

The Highlander tried to keep a stern face but miserably failed as his friend's vision focused upon his lower anatomy. Mac's face brightened into a lovely shade of red when his cock automatically began increasing in size underneath the other Immortal's scrutiny. Methos walked into MacLeod's personal space and pressed a long finger to Mac's burgeoning penis and testicles. By now, the said two organs had plunged around and below the Scot's indecently high cut shorts.

Methos' right hand lightly massaged and caressed the Highlander's jewels. Inhaling Duncan's natural scent of fresh blooming heather , he softly murmured, "You know, you really ought to rest a little. This island heat can get the best of you."

MacLeod loudly groaned as Methos lowered the zipper on the offending pair of shorts. The briefs fell to the ground revealing the Highlander's magnificent nude body. Methos leaned over and suckled Mac's right tit, all the while rubbing and pinching the now unencumbered sex tools.

"You know, I've told you and told you..." he breathily whispered in his Horseman inflected voice "...about wearing any clothes at all."

Shivers tracked up and down the Highlander's spine. What little resolve MacLeod had floated away. Methos moved his erotic mouth to the Scot's other breast before licking a flaming path down the center of the Scot's body. Duncan unconsciously spread his feet apart enabling his lover better access to his body. Methos took advantage of the opportunity and dribbled his fingers over MacLeod's tight opening.

"Oh, God, Methos, I....."

Methos pillowed the Highlander's handsome face with his hands. He then leaned in and assaulted MacLeod's delectable lips and mouth. Pillaging Duncan's moist inner surfaces and teeth, the older man backed his lover up until the Scot plopped down upon their bed of breadfruit fronds. After long moments, the older Immortal finally abandoned Mac's flaming oral cavity in favor of his umbilicus. Laving around it several times, he dived into its center. Duncan's body shook with desire.

Suddenly, the big Scot roared and upended the slimmer man. Methos found himself underneath MacLeod's naked body. The Highlander stripped off Methos' denim shorts and swooped down upon his massive cock. Pushing the outer skin down out of his way, Mac engulfed the glistening pink tip into his lush lips and blazing mouth. Alternately sucking and lapping the shaft's head, MacLeod soon had his lover twitching and moaning.

Methos groaned when Duncan suddenly withdrew his mouth. The Scot dipped his forefinger into the oozing whitish fluid in its slit. He caught the wild eyed hazel gaze of his lover and deliberately inserted his finger into his own mouth.

"MacLeod..." Methos begged.

The younger Immortal grinned and pushed his lover's legs up over his own broad shoulders. Pulling the slender man's hips into his awaiting mouth, Mac rimmed and stabbed his tongue into his partner's tight concupiscent, or sexual, center. Methos' body bucked and twisted in the throes of erotic arousal. He was unable to stem his flood of sexual juices as the thick fluid erupted from his rigid cock. MacLeod thrust his own hardened sex up against that of the other man's and slicked his dick all over. He then consumed Methos' pulsating rod all the way to its root. Mac drained every remaining drop of cum from the quivering Immortal. He finally released the old/young man's rod and plunged his own into Methos' ass. The old man wasn't sure if he wanted to scream in agony or shout for joy from the massive dual stimulation. In fact, he did a little of both.

When the Highlander was at last replete with a limp cock and a mouth whitened all around, he pulled himself out of his lover and collapsed onto Methos' sweaty body. Each Immortal clasped the other one in sheer exhausted pleasure. Neither man moved for long moments.

CHAPTER 2

Duncan sat on the sandy beach with his muscular thighs drawn into his chest. His arms were wrapped around his folded legs and his chin rested upon his knees. The cool, early morning sea breeze ruffled his unbound hair and pimpled his bare flesh with goose bumps. The skies were awash with the midnight blues, purples and pinks streaking across the pre-dawn horizon. A few lazy, gilt edged clouds skudded across the Technicolor sky, promising another windy day for the isolated island set in the middle of the vast Pacific ocean. Duncan remained unmoving and hushed as he silently watched the sun peep up from the opposite side of the earth. Later, the solar orb would prove broiling and unforgiving to all living things here on this island paradise. Now, however, it was a soft pinkish orange glow both pleasing to the eye and restful to the mind.

A lonesome sea gull floated effortlessly above the Highlander. The bird's unusual silence seemed to imitate the pensive mood Duncan was feeling this early morning. He'd tried to keep track of the passing days but it just did not seem worth the effort. The Scot wasn't depressed. He couldn't be, not with his best friend and partner asleep back in their shelter. Duncan smiled. In his four hundred year existence he'd had many loves. With each woman he'd found a unique bond, a different sharing of himself with her. Debra, Little Deer and his precious Tessa, to name but a few. His love for them encompassed his entire being, especially that of his beloved Tessa. He'd had only a too brief thirteen years with the blond artist who turned his life upside down and gave him an abiding devotion and love he'd never before experienced.

As far as Amanda was concerned, he and the little vixen were as much friends as lovers. Each dearly loved the other one, but not for too long a time. The daring thief was in his life one minute and the next she was gone, chasing a dream or her next burglary or some such.

Then, there was Methos. MacLeod couldn't suppress the grin that exploded across his handsome face at the mere thought of the man who'd come to mean so much. From the first moment he'd laid eyes upon the tall, surreal Immortal who'd lived even before the invention of writing, MacLeod had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Duncan had always been the older man with his other mortal lovers. And, to be honest with himself, Amanda was more his sister, despite the difference in their ages. Around Methos, however, MacLeod felt as though he were an infant, a mere child. An inexperienced, naive, inept fledgling compared to the man who'd lived more than twelve times as long as he had.

Duncan's skin flushed a deep crimson as he recalled their first sexual encounter. It had been the Scot's first with another man. Yet, Methos had allowed him to take the lead; the ancient had been the giving partner. He must have known how difficult it was for his young lover to give of himself to another person of the same sex. MacLeod turned his head to the side, his cheek now resting on his knees. His lips bent up into a sweet smile as he recalled how nervous and unsure of himself he'd been. Methos, in all his wisdom and devotion, had made him feel like a king. It had seemed so natural to kiss and hug and penetrate another of his own sex. What followed was a natural progression of Duncan allowing the ancient free access to his own body. He'd found out how a woman must feel to have her lover deep within her loins and to possess her completely. Duncan felt all of that and much, much more. It was as if he'd not lived, not truly existed, until the tall, reed thin Immortal with lengthening dark hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes tiptoed into his life.

A frown marred his forehead. <Am I ready for that kind of commitment? To spend an eternity with this man?>

"Penny for your thoughts." a soft voice murmured into his ear.

The source of his ponderings sat down effortlessly beside him in the sand and laid his head upon Mac's broad shoulder. The Scot leaned over and bussed his lover on his lips.

"I was thinking of you. I was feeling very blessed that you have come into my life." MacLeod unwrapped his arm and brought his mate into his embrace. "I was not quite whole until you came along, Methos." He quietly added, "Now I am."

"Um, me, too, youngster." Methos grinned and stood up. He held out an arm for his partner. "..but, now, I'm mostly hungry. What's for breakfast?"

The Highlander frowned and allowed Methos to hoist him up off the sandy beach.

"Bananas?" he asked with a wicked gleam and broke off running as his lover picked up a nearby sea shell and chunked it at the Scot, beaning him in the back of his head.

Later that morning, Methos and MacLeod re-explored their island. The two Immortals hacked a path through the dense growth of vines and live oaks that formed the interior of the water bound land. It had been the Scot's idea to find out if there were any other inhabitants besides themselves. Methos had complained but secretly thought it a great idea. Who knows, maybe they'd even find buried treasure or some such.

"Hey, Mac, you don't suppose Long John Silver is hiding in here with his parrot and peg leg guarding a chest full o' gold, do you?"

The Highlander stopped his efforts to hack a thick vine out of his way and frowned back at his companion.

"You've been reading my copy of "Treasure Island."

The fair skinned man helped Mac shove an old log to the side and sat down on it.

"Avast, me hearties! Why would ye be thinkin' that?" he quipped as he reached down and pinched a rounded buttocks peeping out of the Scot's abbreviated shorts.

"Ow! Damn it, Methos, quit pinching my ass!" MacLeod complained, facing his erstwhile lover.

The elder Immortal snuggled his exploring hand underneath his lover's scanty covering and tweaked Duncan's well endowed scrotum.

"My darlin' child, you have such a lovely bottom!" he crowed. "It nigh on begs to be fondled and pinched and poked and....."

Duncan batted his friend's hand away from his anatomy yet again. "That may be, O love of my life, but not all the time!" his voice elevating in half hearted irritation.

His lover batted his hazel eyes at his partner and changed tactics. "Oh, come on, Duncan. Haven't you waded through all this mess enough? Let's go back. I have some other things...to do..." he pleaded.

His baritone, English accented voice trailed off as he sidled in close to the Scot and fondled Duncan's rapidly increasing shaft. Leaning closer, Methos laved his tongue over MacLeod's left tit. Mac moaned and instinctively threw his head back. His muscular pectorals thrust out even further for Methos' attention. The shorter haired Immortal smothered a knowing grin. MacLeod was putty in his hands. One just had to know how to manipulate him a bit.

CHAPTER 3

It took less time to retrace their steps back to the shelter. Methos shoved his partner down onto the sand and pounced on him. Within a space of a couple minutes, he had his Highlander groaning and spreading himself open for Methos' pleasure.

Before Methos could get too far, however, the two Immortals heard several voices just off shore. They both stumbled to their feet and gaped in surprise. While they'd been inland a ship had sailed into the small harbor just beyond the barrier reef. Two long boats filled with men were landing on the sandy beach. In all, more than a dozen men of all descriptions and nationalities scrambled out onto the land. Some wore shirts or vests while a couple of them were bare-chested. Most of the men wore Levi's or khaki pants. Pistols stuck out of their belts and long knives rested on their hips. A couple of them had cutlasses strapped around their waists. Bandannas were tied on the heads of not a few of them. One particularly mean looking guy in his forties had a black patch over his left eye and a four inch scar on his left cheek. He also had a coiled, leather whip attached to his wide belt.

MacLeod and Methos grabbed their swords and exchanged looks.

"Am I dreaming or have we gone back in time, MacLeod?" Methos whispered. The motley crew looked quite as though they had just jumped off the page of MacLeod's battered copy of "Treasure Island."

Mac shook his head. "If you are, then I must be dreaming, too."

The Immortals hung back and listened.

"Scar, is this where it's hid? The gold?" one hulking, almost seven foot sailor asked the man with the patch.

"Aye, Smythe. This is the one." the crew leader replied. "It's supposed to be about a day's journey inland." Scar glanced around. "There's somebody around here. I can feel 'em."

The Highlander and the former Horseman exchanged glances. None of their visitors were Immortal. How did he know?

"Well, here goes." murmured MacLeod and stepped out into full view. "Adam, it seems we have guests." he loudly called as his companion joined him on the glistening white sand.

Scar's single eye narrowed. His knowing look took in the warriors' stance both tall, well built men had taken. He briefly glanced at the thinner one but the darker, more muscularly built one caught his eye. <These two could put up a good fight if we let 'em.> he thought to himself. He glanced around at his men. They'd been at sea several months and were ravenously hungry for "fresh meat." He couldn't hold them back if he wanted. <Not that I would.> Aloud he muttered, "...but, I want the pretty one with the long hair first."

Without another word, the men rushed the two Immortals. Despite their centuries' honed skills, Duncan and Methos hadn't a chance. Five of them dived on the older Immortal and held him kicking and biting on the ground. A pudgy Asian commandeered his ivory handled knife and made short work of Methos' cutoffs.

Methos felt hands claw off his shorts and grope his naked body. The Immortal was flipped over onto his hands and knees. The grainy sand ground into his palms and knees like chips of glass. Methos' numbed senses blocked out what was happening. His mind instead flashed back to the bitter memories of similar rapings he'd suffered prior to the years he rode with Kronos, Silas and Caspian. He hesitantly recalled performing that same atrocious act on many unsuspecting men and women as he wore the white mask of Death during the millennia he spent with his fellow brothers, the Four Horsemen. The Asian pirate dragged Methos' slim hips up and dry penetrated his ass. The ancient Immortal helplessly screamed.

Methos fleetingly mourned his beloved Highlander, whose similar roars and yells were audible above the ear splitting din.

<Please help him through this.> he silently prayed. Tears both for himself and his lover trickled out of his eyes and down his sand caked face.

MacLeod's lethal hands and feet kicked and chopped with blazing speed at the dozen or so men attacking him. Swinging his body to the left, his right foot slammed into the jaw of a red bearded pirate wearing a black shirt. Unfortunately, the Scot's groin was left unprotected, if only for a minuscule of a second. It was all the time needed for one of them to slam a billy club into his vulnerable spot.

Mac roared and fell to the ground, doubling over in blinding pain. He was immediately surrounded by a dozen or so lecherous sailors. Two of them latched onto his upper extremities, while yet others grabbed his legs. MacLeod quickly found himself spread out on the hot sand. Still fighting his captors, the Scotsman managed to bite a grimy hand in the tender spot between the thumb and first finger. The injured man yelled and dropped his grip on MacLeod's right arm, but before Duncan could pursue any other action, a sword was placed against his open throat.

"I suggest you cease your struggles, my handsome young friend, before I stop them forever." Scar's booming voice declared.

MacLeod stilled and defiantly stared at the ship's captain. Scar's one bold, blue eye flashed in anticipation of the feast spread out before him.

"Stand him up." he ordered his men.

Four of the men drug MacLeod to his feet and tightly held his arms and shoulders. The pirate stared at his prize. The man's muscled chest heaved from his exertions, causing his pectorals and his nubs to protrude. Scar slowly lowered his vision to the prisoner's trim waist and snug shorts conveniently revealing his semi hard shaft and protruding sacs.

<The man is turned on by the thrill of battle. It's a shame I can't add him to my crew. But, with that strong face and determined chin, such a one as this would never submit to authority. > Scar mused to himself.

The one eyed man lowered his sword to MacLeod's chest. He then drug the weapon down the center of the Highlander's body to his shorts. With a flick of the pirate's wrist the cloth was neatly spliced in two and dropped to the sandy beach. The Scot's choleric, blackish brown eyes glittered in suppressed fury as his pulchritudinous, beautiful, unclothed body was now prominently displayed. Scar reached down and twisted a long black curl of Mac's groin hair around his finger. Duncan kicked out at him, but Scar deftly evaded his captive's foot. In retaliation, he jerked on the lock of hair he still held and grinned when it painfully pulled out of Mac's sensitive skin.

Duncan bellowed out his pain and thrashed against the unfortunate sailors trying to hold onto him. Scar clamped a meaty fist around the Scot's penis.

He leaned in until his lips almost touched MacLeod's full ones. "If you don't behave I'll cut this off." he threatened as he jerked yet again on Mac's imprisoned shaft.

"I'll get you for this, you bastard!" the Highlander snarled.

Scar snickered and released Mac's sex tool. "I doubt that." he bragged. "Snake, turn 'im around and lean 'im over. I'm tired of talking; I want a piece of his ass."

"No-ooo!" MacLeod yelled and valiantly fought the six men who were holding him. "Ye'll nae do it!"

Scar's blue eye radiated his anticipation as the naked Highlander's rear faced him. The one called Snake pushed down on the back of MacLeod's head and forced him to his knees. Scar unzipped his pants and shoved his rigid rod all the way into MacLeod's button opening. Helpless, unwanted tears of pain and frustration coursed down his handsome face as his rapist withdrew and plunged his weeping shaft into the Scot's ass time after time.

It wasn't long until Duncan felt Scar's body fluids empty into his own. Scar's cackling laughter burst forth again as he yanked himself out of his prisoner and landed a stinging slap to Duncan's bottom.

"Here, boys, take him. I'm through with him for now."

MacLeod lost count of how many of the more than a dozen pirates took their turn fucking him. His battered rectum was quickly numbed. All the Scot felt was the slapping of their flanks against his butt cheeks as each one shoved his prick into Mac's beleaguered body. He finally succumbed to unconsciousness. This didn't stop the men from taking their pleasure of him.

CHAPTER 4

Methos' crusted, hazel eyes batted open. A chill shook his body in the cool evening air. He did not move at first, but assessed his surroundings. The blood red sky spoke of a brilliant evening sunset. He could hear the pirate crew eating and drinking beer around a campfire a few yards away. He could move his arms and legs, so he figured he was in pretty good shape, considering everything.

The Immortal looked around for MacLeod. The Highlander lay unmoving a few feet away. Methos could tell he was still unconscious. His long, disarrayed hair hid his face. Inching toward his friend, Methos' hand felt the dried blood covering MacLeod's posterior, flanks and groin. The older Immortal knew Duncan had long since healed, but it was still unnerving to see the remnants of the younger man's raping.

"Duncan." Methos hissed. "Mac, wake up."

Methos touched MacLeod's shoulder. The Scot's eyes shot open. He stifled a groan as it seemed every muscle in his body ached.

"Are you all right?" Methos whispered.

His hand found that of MacLeod's and they squeezed each other's hand. Mac gingerly turned onto his side and faced his partner. Methos' mussed hair framed a tired but relieved face.

"Yeah, old man. I'm fine." MacLeod answered. "How about you?"

The two men continued holding hands. It was as if this unbroken link cemented their unspoken bond and helped them cope with the nightmare they were experiencing.

"I've seen a lot worse." Methos frowned. "I've done a lot worse."

Duncan and Methos were content to maintain the contact for quite a while. Eventually, MacLeod whispered, "Any ideas on how we're getting out of this mess?"

Methos grinned. "Nope. You?"

MacLeod shook his head. "Even if we got away, it's not like we could swim across the ocean."

"Yeah." the older Immortal agreed. "Can you sail a boat?"

"Not by myself. You can't either?"

"No, considering it's been over a hundred years since I tried." he caustically replied.

As the evening evaporated into night, the raiders eventually went to sleep. A pair of guards were left to watch over their prisoners. Neither Methos nor MacLeod were bothered the rest of the night. They huddled together and wrapped their arms tightly around the other's body and drifted off to a restless sleep.

CHAPTER 5

"C'm 'ere, Cutie."

MacLeod was startled awake by a pair of grabbing hands on his left wrist. Gathering his legs underneath his warrior's body, he launched himself toward his assailant. The force of his sudden move catapulted the two men to the ground. MacLeod's strong hands closed about the struggling sailor's throat. The smaller built Italian named Tony shouted for help. The man's cry disintegrated into gurgling sounds as his breath was cut off from the rest of his body. The tall Scot was unmindful to the shouts and bustling activity around him. His fuzzy brain focused only upon his attacker. He couldn't kill them all, but, by God, this was one pirate who wouldn't see the light of another day.

Methos sat back on his heels. He'd been awake for some time waiting for MacLeod to arouse. A satisfied smile creased his young face as he watched Tony helplessly scrabble at Mac's broad shoulders and arms. His face was turning a mottled gray. His Highlander was a force to be reckoned with. He'd fight them with every ounce of breath he had. The former Horseman settled back to watch the fun.

Four of the others finally moved to intervene. MacLeod's lethal arms and centuries' trained Martial Arts' skills had all of them fighting for their lives. He wasn't stopped until he was blind sided by the meaty fist of a burly, full bearded Negro man.

"Yeah, Toby! Show 'im who's boss!"

"Put him down, Toby!"

The gathering crowd of the ship's crew yelled and egged on their obvious champion fighter. He picked up the Scot by his hair and walloped him with a wicked right cross to his chin. Duncan lay unmoving on the ground as the men cheered the victorious Toby Shafer. Toby glanced down upon his waking victim. The six feet four inch hulk unzipped his trousers and withdrew his rigid shaft from its cotton barrier. He pulled the still dazed Immortal to his knees. Shafer slid a finger down the Highlander's crease and into his tight ring of flesh. Toby then unceremoniously inserted his weeping sex into MacLeod's rectum. Mac suppressed a groan of pain but otherwise said nothing. He silently submitted to the degrading act of the fight's winner fucking his ass.

When Toby was finished and the Scot lay where he'd fallen, Methos crawled over to his friend.

"When will you learn, MacLeod?" Methos criticized. "You can't beat these people. You'd better listen to your elder and bide your time until we find an opportunity to get away."

"...and I suppose you're my elder." MacLeod quipped as he sat up, gingerly favoring his sore bottom.

Methos had a smug look on his patrician face. "Exactly, my love, exactly."

CHAPTER 6

MacLeod and Methos dived into their bowls of beans and hunks of cornbread. At least their captors fed them. It had been too long a time since they'd eaten real food, other than the bananas, coconuts and fish that had sustained them. Scar hadn't given them any clothes but they had left them alone since the morning's fiasco.

The Scot overheard Scar say something about buried treasure. He'd asked the two Immortals if they knew anything about a chest of gold coins and jewels. He seemed to accept their denial of any knowledge of its whereabouts.

Just after lunch the pirates set off for the interior of the island. The Highlander and his partner led the dozen or so men into the heart of the jungle. Scar had left three men back in camp. Not leaving anything to chance, he'd also ordered two others to remain on board their ship, "The Alyssa." The one eyed captain halted the group after about an hour and pulled an old, faded map from his inside pocket. He glanced at his two prisoners just ahead of him. He'd have to keep a close eye on the taller, more muscular one. The man handled himself with the ease born of many years of practice and battles. He was dangerous. That was one reason Scar had let the crew have him both yesterday and this morning. By degrading the handsome Scot and keeping him on his back, Scar hoped to squelch any rebellious thoughts he might have. That was also why he'd kept MacLeod naked. It was important to use any means possible to keep him under Scar's control.

The thinner one was another matter entirely. He was madly in love with the Scot; that was quite evident. MacLeod had called him Adam. He appeared unassuming and harmless, but Scar wasn't fooled. That one was as cunning as a snake and would bite when one least expected him to do so. He'd allowed that one to slip on a pair of shorts because he wouldn't go anywhere without his lover.

The treasure hunters kept on the trail leading deeper and deeper into the marshy swamp of water, trees, ferns and flowers of every description. The sun was beginning to set when he called a halt for the night. Methos and Duncan were made to gather wood and start a fire. After a brief meal, Methos' feet were shackled to keep him from going anywhere. He was then pushed down onto the ground where the others could keep an eye on him.

MacLeod, on the other hand, was soon surrounded by five or six sailors whose eyes gleamed hungrily for another taste of the Highlander's flawless flesh. Methos shook his head when his lover put up another fight. Duncan soon found his arms bound and pulled above his head, while the men roughly fondled his naked body. It took three of them to separate his long, powerful legs and draw them up over his chest. Meanwhile, John, a black crewcut, muscular man withdrew his own leaking shaft and shoved it without any preparation into Mac's body. Methos tried to shut out the Scot's grunts and unavoidable cries of pain as each man took his turn with Duncan. It wouldn't do either of them any good if they were both incapacitated. He had to keep a clear head. He hadn't been the brains behind the Four Horsemen for nothing.

After the last member of the group had taken his turn, MacLeod was left huddled on the ground in a tight ball. The older Immortal inched over to his companion and drew the trembling body into his warm embrace. Duncan did not say anything and neither did Methos. They simply held onto each other for warmth and unspoken support.

Early the next day, the group set out through a stand of fir trees to a hidden alcove deep in the interior of the island. The tall stately trees edged a crystal clear deep pool of blue water. On its furthest side a massive stone wall rose up sheltering a waterfall of cascading water. Scar checked his map, then led the men around the pond until they were right across from the rock edifice. He motioned for MacLeod to jump into the water in order to check its depth. The Highlander briefly glanced at his companion, then dove into the frigid lagoon. His breath was taken away momentarily from the shock of the cold water. Mac took some breaths and then swam over toward the waterfall.

Methos crossed his legs and gracefully folded himself into a sitting position at the water's edge. His hazel eyes were filled with love for the vision of loveliness that easily glided across the sky blue pool. The late afternoon sun filtered through the tree cover and danced in shining sparkles of glittering diamonds over the calm surface. MacLeod's deeply tanned, naked body appeared as though he were a nymph or a native that lived on this remote Pacific island. The elder Immortal knew he must be crazy to have lost his heart to this Highlander youngling, but it too late. He would do most anything to ensure the Scot's survival, including giving his own life if that became necessary.

The slender, hawk faced Immortal picked a blade of grass from the reeds that grew abundantly along the water's edge. Chewing it methodically, he knew Scar would keep them alive only as long as he had a need for them. Beyond that, they were both meat to the one eyed pirate. If he and Duncan could keep them from finding out about their immortality, the two of them would manage. Even if it meant staying on this damned island for another year, MacLeod's life would be worth the price. His finely chiseled face grinned. With Duncan by his side, it did not matter to the five thousand year old man just where they were. This was an island paradise and the ground looked fertile. If they could scrounge some seed from the voyagers, the two of them would manage nicely. To top that, if there were any treasure buried somewhere, he and his companion would indeed be wealthy.

Duncan reached the rocky edge where the fresh water plunged down the stone face and into the depths of the small lake. The lake itself was at least ten or twelve feet deep. He thought there might be an entrance below the surface, but was reluctant to find out with the pirates watching. Perhaps he could slip off tonight and check it out. Duncan had not ever traveled this far inland and had no idea the lake existed. He'd also seen a school of fish when he briefly dived under the surface. Fresh water fish would vastly improve his and Methos' menus.

Realistically, MacLeod never considered Scar and his cronies would take them with them when they sailed. The money hungry vagrants would probably kill them anyway. As long as they didn't take either Methos' or his head, it would be all right. His handsome face frowned as he pulled himself up out of the water and sat on the slippery, lichen covered rocks. He was a bit tired of all the sex. His ass still hurt after being fucked twice a day by at least six or more men. Because of his immortality, he couldn't die of rape, that was true. Yet, he wasn't a whore and right now, that's what he felt like. It was too bad he couldn't get paid for his services. His full lips creased into a grin at that thought. At least he'd be a wealthy whore.

"Do ye see anythin'?" Scar yelled across to MacLeod.

The Scot shook his head. "No; just a crevice that goes in a short distance."

"Scar, the map says the entrance is around here somewhere." Toby opined.

The one-eyed pirate looked over at his second-in-command. "It's bound to be here. I wouldn't put it past that one to be hidin' somethin'." he added, nodding toward the Highlander still seated on the rock's edge. He motioned for the Immortal to return. Glancing back to Toby, Scar instructed, "Let's make camp for the night and get an early start in the morning."

MacLeod dove easily into the water and quickly swam back across the lake. Methos smiled as he watched his companion's sleek nude body skim across the smooth surface of the water. The Highland brat reminded him of a sea otter's antics, always showing off and making sure everyone was watching him.

<You just wait until I get you alone again, child.> Methos thought as his hazel eyes sparkled with unfulfilled lust. <I'm going to keep you bare skinned the rest of the time we're here on this damned island.>

Duncan hoisted himself up onto the bank and shook his wet head. Glancing up he noticed the yearning look on his lover's face. "What?"

"Mac, I think I'll keep you in your birthday suit after we're free from these birds. That way, you'll always be ready for me." Methos' devilish eyes glittered.

"You just wish, Adam Pierson." the Scot retorted.

Shafer strode over to MacLeod. "Turn around." he ordered.

Mac wordlessly obeyed the larger man. The black seaman tied MacLeod's wrists behind his back and pinched his buttocks. MacLeod jumped but didn't say anything. Toby turned Duncan back around so that he once again faced the pirate. He began fondling the Immortal's testicles and penis. It wasn't long until MacLeod began moaning as his shaft and twin pouches hardened.

"Spread 'em." Toby instructed his captive.

MacLeod wordlessly obeyed. The black man reached between the Scot's outspread legs and poked a long finger up into his ass. Meanwhile, his other hand continued caressing and fondling Mac's sex tools. Duncan attempted to ward off his body's reactions to Toby's ministrations, but found himself pressing forward onto the man's arm. Toby grinned and pressed his finger even higher up into the Scot.

"You're a hot bitch, ain't ya?" he crooned. "You want Papa to fuck ya, don't 'cha?" Toby drew MacLeod forward and leaned him over a nearby rock.

Forcing the Highlander's legs even wider, he freed his own rock hard sex from his pants and pressed himself up into Mac's depths. He alternately withdrew and plunged himself up into the Scot's hot body until all too quickly he spurted his juices up into MacLeod's warm depths. When he was replete, Toby pulled himself out and popped Duncan's right buttock, leaving a red imprint on his flesh that quickly faded.

Toby found himself surrounded by three others, including the red bearded Smythe, wanting their turns. They were interrupted when Scar growled at them.

"The rest of you men can wait til after supper. I'm hungry."

While everyone, including the Immortals, were eating, MacLeod unobtrusively sidled up to Methos.

"Are you okay?" the ancient asked his companion.

The Scot's bonds had been spliced apart so he could eat the bread and cheese passed to him. MacLeod gingerly sat down beside the older man.

"I'll live." he quipped with a grin. "I think there's an underwater entrance. I thought I could see a shaft of light below the water line."

Methos cast a skeptical glance to the Highlander. "Yeah, and how will you check it out, wise guy?"

MacLeod smiled. "They haven't been tying me after they're through with me."

The slender Immortal shook his head and laid his hand on the Scot's shoulder. "....That's because there's not much of you left after they finish either Mac." he caustically observed.

"I can act, old man. I'll pretend I'm a lot worse off than they think. They'll not tell the difference."

"MacLeod, don't push your luck. These men are dangerous."

The Highlander grinned an impish grin. "What can they do? Kill me?"

Methos shrugged his shoulders. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"You worry too much." the Scot countered and drug a seductive finger down his lover's patrician nose.

Methos' forehead wrinkled in concern. "Whatever you do, Duncan, it had better be tonight." Methos cautioned. "Scar will find the treasure tomorrow."

"Yeah, Methos, I know." Mac replied. "That's why I have to go tonight."

CHAPTER 7

Methos sat cross legged nursing a can of beer he'd conned from Toby Shafer. His Cheshire cat green eyes, flecked with sparkles of gold, glittered as he ogled his lover's naked back and buttocks. The sinking sun's reddened rays reflected on the Scot's smooth, deeply tanned hips and his pair of heavy testicles peeking from between MacLeod's drawn up legs.

"....I just need one good hour's fun with you, Nature Boy." he raggedly whispered.

The Highlander, hearing his mate's comment, rolled over onto his back. Methos' grin broadened into a wicked smile at MacLeod's embarrassment and now beet red face. He helplessly burst into laughter as Mac's rod stiffened into an upright position from Methos' arousing gaze. It was almost as if Duncan had a flag pole jutting up from his nest of dark brown, curls.

"Well, well, I see you're ready for me." the Italian seaman commented, swaggering up to the reclining Scot. He was almost drooling in anticipation of his impending feast of the Highlander's body.

Methos' observant eyes captured Mac's instantaneous look of trepidation before it was quickly erased from the noble face. The ancient Immortal shook his head. Duncan was taking a big chance. There wasn't anything the pirates wouldn't do to satisfy both their animal and financial lusts.

Duncan smothered his inner fears as the arrogant Italian who'd attempted to take him that first morning loomed over him. Tony slipped a length of rope from his back pocket and drug the Immortal to his feet. He tugged the reluctant MacLeod nearer the campfire where a stake had been driven into the ground. Tony pushed the Scot down onto his back. He proceeded to loop the rope around Duncan's right wrist and pulled the captive's arm above his head. Tony then wrapped the hemp around the sturdy projection of wood and over to Duncan's left wrist. When the compactly built, black haired sailor tightened the rope, MacLeod was stretched out on the still warm sand, his arms securely bound over his head to the stake.

Tony's black, lust filled eyes gleamed as he straddled MacLeod's hips and sat down heavily. Duncan gasped from the sudden weight on his stomach and visibly cringed when Tony's teeth clamped down onto his right tit. The Italian wrapped the Scot's long hair in his meaty left fist while his right one twisted cruelly on Mac's left nub. At this point, Duncan shut his eyes in an ineffective manner of shutting out the sight of the man's actions.

Duncan felt the other man's thin lips lap a path down the center of his body to his navel. Tony's tongue felt like a shovel as it delved into his center. Ignoring the Immortal's responses, Tony laved all over Duncan's lower abdomen sliding down the man's legs as he shifted his position.

Tony released his hold of Mac's hair and instead grasped a tight fist on MacLeod's limp shaft. He looked up and glared at his prize.

"What's this? It was stickin' up high 'n mighty a while ago." He squeezed Duncan's penis and balls at the same time. "What's a matter? Upset cuz ya cain't have yer lover?" Holding onto both body parts, the Italian leaned over and bit a hunk of Duncan's sensitive skin near his groin.

MacLeod roared in pain and bucked the smaller man off his hips, shoving him onto the ground. Laughing, Snake stood up and crossed over to the hapless Italian.

"You about through, Tony?" he slurred, flexing his right arm. The python tattoo covering the man's right arm moved as though it were alive.

"Give me a little more time, Snake."

The other man shrugged his shoulders and sat down to watch the fun. The smaller mortal roughly pinched MacLeod's tits in retribution. Not bothering to notice the Scot's reaction, he slapped Mac's thigh.

"Bend yer knees and spread them pretty legs for me." he ordered.

MacLeod would've loved to have not obeyed the arrogant pirate, but he knew he had to get through this if he and Methos were to escape. Thus, he wordlessly drew up his legs and spread them apart. Girding himself for what was to come, Duncan batted his eyes closed one time and swallowed an unseen lump in his throat. He again leveled his defiant gaze on the sex crazed man.

Methos' keen observations noted his partner's imperceptible dismay. He frowned and shook his head. <My Highland lad will never learn.> he thought to himself.

"Now, that's better." Tony praised his captive.

Snake remained stoic as he watched his shipmate unzip his trousers and drag out his uncomfortably rigid prick. The powerfully built sailor laughed when the Italian smeared some grease all over his shaft before shoving it up into the bound man's rectum. The naked man audibly groaned from the immediate pain.

Duncan lost count and consciousness as each of the sailors present feasted their sexual appetites upon his body. They fucked his mouth, his ass and his shaft. They untied him and placed him on all four's in addition to any other position their sick minds could invent.

Methos groaned as first one then another of the pirates assaulted his precious Highlander. If he had a weapon, he'd make them pay as only the fearsome visage of Death, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalyse, would do. An evil mask slipped over the usually mild mannered Watcher's features. Somehow, he had to retrieve his ivory handled knife.

Unbeknownst to the Immortal, Toby Shafer observed the abrupt alteration of expression on Methos' face. His black features smothered a grin threatening to pop out. If Scar thought he could control these two men, he had a rude awakening ahead of him. The heavier built one called Mac was as dangerous as a true warrior could be. He reminded the mercenary shipmate of his fellow tribal fighters from his village in the Congo. Even so, the other man was just as ruthless. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to free the both of them. Toby found himself grudgingly admiring the pair. They were as formidable a foe as he'd ever faced. It would be a shame to kill them. That Scar would do just that before they left the island, Shafer had no doubt.

Methos knew exactly when MacLeod passed out. The vile marauders did not care that their source of pleasure could not feel a thing. All that mattered was their sating their sexual needs. Methos' ankles burned. He looked down and belatedly noticed he'd rubbed them raw from his chaffing the iron manacles imprisoning them.

It wasn't until the men finished and were falling asleep that Methos' murderous eyes softened. Toby Shafer, the ship's boatswain, had been silently watching the unspoken interchange. He walked over and untied the unconscious Highlander. Toby lifted the inert body into his muscular arms and carried him over to Methos' side. Gently laying the Immortal down beside Methos, he glanced first at the sleeping form and then into the vengeful glare of the older Immortal.

"He deserves sleeping in your arms tonight." he mumbled and shuffled off to lie down himself.

Methos drew Duncan's warm, beleaguered body into his loving arms and kissed his swollen lips. Brushing back the Scot's sweaty hair from his sleeping face, he smiled when Duncan, instinctively knowing his partner's embrace, snuggled into the older man's shoulder.

"I love you, Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod." he whispered in Mac's ear.

Methos looked down at the Highlander's blood covered lower abdomen, buttocks and legs. He then smoothed back the perspiration soaked hair from the unconscious man's face.

"I told you so, you mule headed Scotsman."

The sun was peeking up over the horizon when Duncan aroused. His body was enfolded in a pair of warm, loving arms. His face was cuddled just under the chin of his mate, his lover, his other half of himself. The Scot's cheek gently rose and fell with the five thousand year old's respirations. Despite the hardships and problems the two of them had faced on their deserted island, one thing stood out very clearly to the Highlander. He was loved. Someone cared what happened to him and not just for what protection or financial aid he offered. Methos loved Duncan MacLeod. Mac had not known this eternal, committed, uncomplicated devotion but very few times and certainly not since Tessa's death. With Methos, he sensed the identical completeness of two halves molded into one whole. He'd had the same image with Tessa. The difference between the two, other than their sex, was that Duncan could always have Methos' love and presence in his long life. He would, that is, until one of them was taken. Duncan unconsciously frowned at that thought. Did he really want to be in a relationship for what could be centuries? He deeply cared for the older man. At the same time, he was afraid of a permanent commitment. Was his love for Methos the "til death do us part" kind or an infatuation that would eventually pass? His and Methos' arrangement would be the closest thing to a true marriage he'd probably ever have.

<If I only knew for sure...> he silently puzzled. He tried to keep his inner, conflicting thoughts to himself. If the old man had any idea he was hesitant as far as their love was concerned, he'd take off and MacLeod would never see him again. Peculiarly, that thought was as frightening to the Highlander as was the other.

Feeling his lover's whispered breath upon his hair, MacLeod smiled and snuggled even closer. Regardless of his doubts, he was in the perfect place after his previous evening's round of forced sexual activities. Someone had brought him over to Methos, who'd gathered his abused body up against his own warm flesh. If only life could be this simple? If only the pirates weren't snoring a few feet away? If only it were just Duncan and Methos alone? The Scot's smile broadened as he thought of what all he could do to stimulate and enhance the five thousand year old's body and mind and spirit. Yet, for now, Duncan was content to lie here quietly and securely in the early morning moments, safely protected by his mate.

<Mate? Beloved?> MacLeod loudly sighed in blissful peace. <Perhaps. Only time would tell.>

Methos aroused from a deep sleep. In his wonderful dream, he and MacLeod were curled up in front of a roaring fire high in the Rocky Mountains. The two of them were snowbound and literally slept, ate and had sex all winter long.

The older Immortal could tell Duncan was awake.

"Good morning, my love." he softly greeted. Lifting the Scot's chin, he bussed Mac's pillowy soft lips with his own. "Are you doing all right?"

"Um hum; I'm fine right now." MacLeod mumbled as he nibbled at the fine, almost non existent hair on the ancient's bare chest.

Methos slid his hand down MacLeod's bare back and caressed the Scot's naked buttocks. "I'm jealous, you know."

Duncan lifted his tousled head and eyed the other man with his questioning puppy brown eyes. "Why? Of whom?"

The elder Immortal kissed the Highlander's nose as his hand squeezed Mac's rounded bottom. "That those brutes get to fuck this ass and I don't." he commented as his hand moved over to Duncan's other cheek and squeezed that one as well.

Mac lifted his buttocks up into his lover's hand as his lips melded with those of Methos'. After a prolonged kiss where the two tongues entwined and danced like two snakes, MacLeod pulled back. "Me, too."

"Get up from there." Scar growled as he toed MacLeod's body with his boot clad foot. "There's an underground passage and you're going to find it."

MacLeod slowly extricated himself from Methos' secure arms. Evidently, the Scot didn't move fast enough because the one eyed pirate pulled back his right foot and booted MacLeod again, this time in the ribs. The Highlander cried out and doubled over in pain, clutching his left side. Methos snarled, jumped up and placed himself between his lover and the pirate. His normally hazel eyes were black with fury and his fists were doubled up as he grabbed the length of his chains in them.

"You've done enough, you blood sucking bastard! Let him alone!"

Scar's bleak, ice blue eyes narrowed as he exchanged challenging looks with the former Horseman. He opened his mouth to denounce the Scot's partner, but something in the man's impenetrable stare halted him in mid sentence. His wayward path had crossed that of many dangerous men. Yet, this apparently young, slender man's venomous silence caused the ship's captain to stop. It was as if the man's eyes were centuries old and promised he was capable of slitting Scar's throat at the drop of a hat.

Scar held up his hand to still his men who'd been scrambling from their bedrolls. Also, by this time, MacLeod's heaving lungs were subsiding from the sharp pain of his fractured ribs. He pushed himself up on one knee and assessed the situation. Duncan laid a hand on the Horseman's shoulder.

"Adam, it's okay. I'll be fine." he rasped.

It was as if the tableau of the Immortals and pirates had been frozen into a diorama behind a glass in a museum. The pregnant silence lengthened into a seemingly insurmountable amount of time.

"Methos." the Highlander whispered. He stood up using the other man's shoulder to balance himself. "Not now."

The ancient Immortal's eyes at last shifted to MacLeod's worried brown orbs. He mentally shrugged himself from his unyielding stance and dropped the chain he'd been clutching.

Several sailors breathed an audible sigh of relief. One by one, the men began making coffee and washing up in the cold lake water. Methos and Scar continued glaring at one another. Finally, his attention was diverted to his second in command, who was asking him about who to send with the Scot.

Methos watched the pirate's retreat and then turned to the Scot.

"Are you okay, Duncan?"

"Yeah, I'll live." he quipped, an Immortal's popular quip. "Will you quit asking me that?"

Methos squirreled his face up into a comical expression and retorted, "Yes, O, wife of mine."

MacLeod batted a loving hand at his mate. "...and who says I have to be the female part of this relationship?"

The elder Immortal leaned over and tweaked the Scot's right breast. "Because, my love, I'm older than you and you have such lovely breasts."

"I do not!" the Highlander indignantly rebuked. His expression filled face contorted into a full blown pout as his lower lip protruded. Meanwhile, his unbidden right hand found its way down to his muscular and predominant pectoral muscle and well endowed tit.

Methos lay back and fell into helpless laughter. "See what I mean?"

"We'll discuss this later when we finally ditch these guys." the Highlander promised. The large bruise which had earlier been prominent on Mac's right side had almost faded. Even so, he gingerly protected his injured side with his arm. Mac did not want any undue attention to his healing capacities. The tall Highlander folded his arms around Methos' chest and hugged him.

"Thank you, for a while ago." he murmured as his lips brushed Methos' brow.

Methos' lips cracked into his characteristic half grin. His skin pinked with an attractive blush and he bowed his neck.

"Anytime, Highlander." he softly replied.

It wasn't long before MacLeod was in the water swimming toward the boulder on the other side and the underground grotto hidden in its depths. This time he was accompanied by two of Scar's men, the Asian they called Chee and an Aussie named Jocko. Both were excellent swimmers and the trio readily reached the opposite shore. "Well, mate, where is this cavern and the treasure chest?" Jocko asked.

MacLeod took a breath and replied, "I think it's beneath this rock. We'll have to swim underwater to find it."

The five foot eleven inch dishwater blond sailor stood up and stretched. "Well, we'd best be at it or Scar'll have our hides."

Duncan and his companions took a few short breaths before plunging below the surface of the clear lake. Mac thought he saw a shaft of light and swam toward it. Before he reached his goal, however, a strong eddy of water, almost as though it were a water spout, swirled around and around his body. Chee and Jocko hung back and treaded water while the Immortal fought to regain control of his movements. Stroking hard through the roiling waters the Scot breached the whirlpool and swam a short distance deeper before angling his agile body up and into the underwater cavern. He was soon joined by the pirates.

The three of them pulled their tired bodies up onto the bank of the cool, but dry, grotto. The walls were the lower parts of the huge boulder that had come crashing down sometime in the far millennial past from a volcano eruption. The water lapping against the sandy floor was unusually warm as though it were thermally heated. Chee, born in the Mei Kong Delta, removed the lantern attached to his belt. Lifting the flume, he lit the wick with a dry match kept in a plastic wrap.

"Let's find out what's down here." he ordered and silently padded over to a passageway.

The Australian ran a thick hand over his wet hair and approached the Highlander. Jocko reached around and caressed MacLeod's shapely bottom and trailed a finger down between his buttocks.

"I'm thinkin' we could amuse ourselves a little bit before we look, eh, Chee?" He glanced at his ship mate. "That is, whilst we have our friend here all to ourselves."

MacLeod froze as he felt the pirate reach between his legs and latch onto his dangling twin pouches. Instinctively, the Scot kicked the Aussie in the solar plexus. The pirate fell to the floor as if he were poleaxed. Mac turned toward the other man crouched in a fighting position. The Vietnamese and the Highlander circled each other for a bit until hard chopping blows were exchanged. MacLeod swung his body in a tight spin and slammed his extended left leg and foot into the Asian's left jaw. Chee's face whipped to the right, the force of the Immortal's blow bringing the man to his knees. Mac shifted to his right side to look for the blond bushman. Regretfully, he was too late. Jocko blind sided him with a nearby rock. MacLeod staggered and instinctively lifted his left hand up to his face. His hand came away bloody from the two inch gash along his temple.

Looking up at the two sailors, Mac raised his arms in surrender. Jocko twisted his arms behind him and secured his wrists with a length of cord.

"We better go, Jocko." Chee cautioned. "Scar will come lookin' for us."

Saying this, he adjusted the lantern's flame and led the way further into the subterranean cave. The Australian drug MacLeod to his feet and shoved him down the passageway. He paid no attention to the Scot's rapidly healing wound. He was too busy watching the Immortal's twisting bottom.

The three men followed the small trail at least two more miles. MacLeod could tell it wound underground well beyond the water's edge. The air seemed purer and the temperature was warmer the further they went.

MacLeod's bare feet scudded puffs of dry dirt onto the cavern floor. It seemed as though they'd been walking a long while. He soon spied a shaft of sunlight illuminating the opposite shale wall and motioned for the others to halt. Peering up, he noticed a well sized hole leading to the outside.

"Look up there." he pointed.

Chee and Jocko stared up at the opening leading to the above ground fresh air.

"Where's the treasure chest?" the Vietnamese wondered aloud.

The Immortal's warm, brown eyes cast around the passageway. The sun's overhead rays filtered onto the dirt floor. MacLeod saw dust motes floating in the vacuum like shaft.

<Something's not right.> he mused.

MacLeod studied the surrounding rock formations. It was comprised of shale, sandstone and schist, the hardened lava rock spewed forth from the island's volcano. Peering closer, he stumbled upon the irregularity. A portion of the underground cavern's wall near the floor was made of limestone. The Scot ran his callused hand over the rough surface and detected a seam extending along its border. Mac squatted down and pawed at the loosening dirt.

"Have ye found it, mate?" Jocko queried, bending near the Highlander.

Mac nodded his head. "There's something behind this rock, but it'll take tools to dig it out." The Scot glanced up at the overhead opening. "We need to get up there and see where we are."

Chee unlooped the rope he carried and shook out a wide loop. The deceptively small man twirled it above his head a few times before snaking it up and over a stout branch near the hole. The Asian jerked on the rope to make sure it would hold his weight and then shimmied up its length. He squirreled himself through the opening and disappeared. It wasn't long until he returned.

"We're about a mile from camp." he called down. "Come on up. We'll go get the others and the tools we need."

Jocko motioned for the Highlander to climb out, then followed himself. Back at camp, Scar heard their report. He gathered his men and some tools. While Scar's attention was diverted elsewhere, MacLeod looked pointedly toward Methos. The elder Immortal gathered up his chains and hobbled over to the Scot.

"What did you find?" he asked. He ran his hand over MacLeod's chest, teasing one of the Scot's button nubs.

The Scotsman shivered under his lover's gentle stimulations. "Uh--oh,--um--." Mac helplessly pressed his chest and upper body into his partner's magic palm.

"Oh, God, I want you." he huskily whispered. His breathing digressed into ragged pants. "I miss you." Duncan pulled Methos into his embrace and thoroughly kissed his lips. He slipped his left hand behind the other man's neck, as his right muscular arm drew Methos' slim waist closer. In the blink of an eye, the Highlander's attention was ultimately lost in pleasuring his loved one's mouth.

At first, Methos gave in to his body's needs, but he quickly remembered where they were. He attempted to shove the Scot away, but Mac's single minded assault blinded the Highlander to any outside interference. The elder Immortal finally groped his hand around his lover's body and pinched a hunk of Duncan's delectable rear end.

"Ouch!" MacLeod yelped, jumping away from Methos' lips which were now quirking into a sly grin. "What did ye do tha' for?" Duncan rubbed his offended anatomy and slung out his lush lower lip.

Methos' hazel eyes narrowed in amusement. He reached over and caressed Mac's naked stomach. "You forget where we are, Highlander." he whispered. "Besides, I want to know what you found."

MacLeod trembled as his demanding body craved Methos' loving attention. The younger Immortal groaned and stepped back, slapping away his mate's relentless hand.

"How can I think when you're doing tha?" he groused, thrusting his hands through his long, tangled locks. "You can do whate'er ye wish, but I canno?"

The older man slyly smiled. He lowered his sultry baritone voice to where only the Scot could hear. "They're not paying us any attention. Besides, Scar expects us to paw each other. Now, what did you find?"

Duncan feebly struggled to focus upon their conversation. It was nigh on impossible to ignore his partner's questing hands as they fondled his breasts, then his navel and lower toward his arousing shaft.

"Uh, we found an underwater grotto. We followed the trail until....oh, my-y...." His voice once again trailed off as Methos tormented his dimpled buttocks.

"Anything wrong, MacLeod?" Methos teased. His insatiable fingertips fingered the Scot's spine all the way down to its end, before delving into his aperture.

"We, uh, found it. The...oh, God, oh...."

Methos grinned. <I love to reduce this gorgeous hunk of a Highlander to a quivering mass of jelly.> he thought. Sobering his facial features, he prodded, "You were saying?"

"I did'na see the chest itself, but I found where it's hidden." MacLeod leaned closer as his mate's hands feathered hot paths down his sides to his twitching flanks. "We ha' tae dig..uh..um..oh.." His quaking voice broke once again. His weakening knees almost gave out as Methos' scalding mouth leaned over and teased his left nipple.

"Heh, heh, heh, heh.."

MacLeod's eyes flew open and all his sexual needs fled upon hearing the quiet laughter behind him. Noticing Methos' immediately sobering face, he whirled around and met the glittering blue eye of his captor. One corner of Scar's full lips had turned up into a knowing smirk. The one eyed pirate held a cutlass in his left hand. He sliced the air with the sharp edged blade until it snuggled up to Methos' vulnerable neck, barely breaking the skin. Mac gasped as a trickle of blood oozed from the small wound. Not daring to move for fear of the elder Immortal's safety, he silently submitted to Scar's hand on his groin. Scar slid his fingers along MacLeod's rigid shaft. He squeezed and rubbed the twin pouches beneath it. The captain's single eye glinted in amusement at the Scot's obvious discomfort and hatred imprinted upon on the Highlander's handsome features.

"You'd like to strangle me, wouldn't you, slut?" he baited. "I could always slice these off." He grasped the juncture where MacLeod's testicles were attached to his body. "...but if I did, I couldn't torment you like this." Scar added, yanking both sacs. He laughed as the Scot swallowed a groan.

Scar glanced up and noticed his actions had attracted his men who'd gathered to watch the fun. He glared at the defiance mirrored in the Scot's hardened brownish- black orbs. The black patched pirate captain knew he had to curb the rebellious captive.

"You get hard when your lover does it, huh?" Lowering the sword to his side, he motioned to Methos. "Get over here and suck 'im off."

MacLeod's normally soft brown eyes glinted black with fury. He backed away from his tormentor and shook his head.

"Nae, I'll no let 'im dae it! Ye canna mak' us dae tha' wi' all yer men watchin'." Mac resisted, his voice low and deadly.

The Highlander's six foot frame increased to an even greater height as he squared his broad shoulders. His chin jutted out in defiance. Mac's arms were held rigidly at his sides; he was unaware of his tightly curled fists drawing blood. Duncan's long bronzed legs and feet were braced a foot apart. It did not matter that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothes. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was every inch the warrior and Clan Chieftain he'd been three hundred and fifty years ago. He was definitely Ian MacLeod's son.

Methos sat back on his heels. His beloved was truly a sight to behold. The man's courage and magnetism literally took his breath away. He grinned when every man surrounding the Highlander took an involuntary step backwards from the undaunting visage of the four hundred year old Scotsman.

Scar stared for a long moment before back handing MacLeod across his handsome face. MacLeod staggered and wiped a bloody smear from his nose. No one breathed.

"Damn you, you bastard!" he growled and launched himself onto the pirate's throat.

It took a span of seconds for the men to jump forward to aid their leader. The Vietnamese Chee, along with two others, grasped at the Scot's right arm. In the struggle, the bone handled knife the Asian had taken off Methos slipped out of his waist band. The ancient Immortal unobtrusively crawled over toward the fallen weapon. Keeping it hidden with his body, he sidled back to where he'd been sitting. Methos then plunged it into the sand and covered it. The multimillennia old Immortal's greenish gold eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a firm slash.

<Enough is enough, you big apes.> he thought as he stared at the pirates. <Duncan and I are getting out of this> he silently vowed. <and soon.>

MacLeod's blinding fury made him oblivious to the arms tugging at him and the fists punching him in his gut, chest and face. His only thought, his one focus was of choking the life out of his tormentor and enemy, the scar faced, one eyed pirate captain. The evil grin evidenced during his dark quickening now resurfaced and marred the flawless beauty of his face. The younger Immortal's fingers squeezed the disfigured man's throat until Scar's eye bulged in fright.

Toby Shafer had been idly watching the one sided fight. Fact was, he was grinning. It was about time his captain was taken down a peg or two from his insolent abusive dominance. Yet, he also knew he had to stop the Highlander. The man was formidable, even bare assed and weapon less. Toby shuddered to think how dangerous the tall Scot would be clothed, holding a sword or a gun. Shrugging out of his thoughts, the boatswain pulled out the billy club he kept tucked into the waistband of his dungarees. He shouldered aside some of his shipmates and with one sweeping motion, brought the wooden mallet down onto MacLeod's head. Blood spurted from the wound as the Immortal dropped like a rock to the sand.

Scar gasped loudly for breath when MacLeod's iron hands were removed from his throat. He stumbled to his knees, clutching his throat with a shaking hand and drew in several large draughts of air. The pirate's ice blue eye riveted upon Duncan's unconscious form. That man wouldn't get a second chance to jump him.

"Tie him up." he rasped before standing up and taking a mug of coffee from Cookie, the ship's cook.

The pirate felt a pair of eyes upon him and swung around to meet the glinting jade eyes of MacLeod's lover. Although the slender man had given him no real trouble and appeared as docile as a lamb, he'd noticed before that Pierson's eyes seemed so aged. Right now, it was as if he were thousands of years old and even more cunning and deadly than his companion. Scar dismissed that ridiculous thought and swiveled his attention to his boatswain. Toby was quiet and could be an old softie at times, but he finished any job demanded of him.

He motioned toward the silent Methos. "Turn him loose and let him take care of his lover."

The black sailor was puzzled at the strange order but he fished out a key from his pocket. Toby stooped and removed the shackles Adam Pierson wore. He was curious as to why both men seemed to heal right away from their injuries. Any others would be incapacitated, but these two seemed to thrive, no matter what was done to them. Shafer cast a quick look back at the still unconscious Highlander.

"You best put a leash on 'im before he gets himself killed." he warned Pierson.

Methos unfastened the chains he'd been wearing and rubbed his sore ankles. He smiled at the inert Immortal.

"It's hard to sway Duncan MacLeod once he sets his mind to something." he observed, his mouth quirking in a half smile.

Toby nodded. "Yeah, I can see that." He stood back up and left the Immortals to their own devices.

Methos hesitated, watching the muscular sailor stride away. He wondered if the Negro might side with Duncan and himself if he were pushed into a corner. Time would tell. The old man crossed over to MacLeod and sat down on the ground beside his friend. The dark haired man lifted Mac's blood splattered head and rested it on his lap. He methodically brushed away the Scot's long locks from the handsome face before leaning over and softly kissing the man's broad forehead.

"What I don't get myself into for you, MacLeod." he mused.

The Highlander suddenly awakened with a painful breath and bolted upright.

"Sh-hh, Love, you're okay. I'm here." the ancient Immortal soothed, gently pulling Duncan's head back into his lap. He caressed the Scot's hair and face, nibbling soft kisses each place his nimble fingers touched. "When will you learn? You have to bide your time. We'll get these mugs."

Duncan's love filled, melted chocolate brown eyes traveled over the ancient's anxious face. Methos' brow was furrowed with worry lines. His mouth was a grim slash, tinged with smeared blood where he'd kissed Mac's face. MacLeod slipped his right hand behind Methos' neck and drew him down for a slow, wet kiss. His velvety lips smothered the older Immortal's mouth. He sucked on the lower lip and darted a hot tongue into the other man's warm depths. The Scot felt Methos draw up his knees and pull the Highlander's head and upper body closer to him. Mac twisted onto his right side and reveled in his beloved's cuddling arms that wrapped him tightly to his sand crusted chest. As he deepened his kiss even more, groping infinitesimally teasing fingers into Methos' neck length, silky fine hair, MacLeod's bombarded senses dimly communicated Methos' left hand running long smooth strokes up and down the Scot's naked right flank. Duncan shivered as that hypnotizing hand and light fingered touch traced darting lines all over his right side and twin mounds of his bottom.

Methos' ordinarily precise mind scattered to the four winds when the Highlander's demanding mouth lifted up to the elder Immortal's vulnerable neck. He visibly shuddered when MacLeod's entrancing orifice rose up until it collided with Methos' button tipped breast. Unaware of his pulling the younger man's body even closer to him, Methos groaned as Duncan's tongue darted fast teases before settling onto his chest. Mac bit and laved and nibbled all around the tight bud.

"Oh, God, Duncan." he softly moaned, feeling the other man's long, curling hair tickle his throat, chest and upper abdomen. "What am I going to do with you?"

He felt MacLeod's rumbling laughter and hot breath when the Scot cast a teasing eye up from his attentions. Methos shivered when he felt rather than heard Duncan's breathy reply. "Why, keep me around of course."

CHAPTER 8

The two lovers were soon interrupted. A boot clad foot nudged MacLeod's exposed right hip, none too gently.

"What now?" growled the disgruntled Scot.

Tony LaRosa leered at MacLeod.

"You should be grateful we're not alone." he bragged and thrust out his slender chest.

MacLeod cast a disparaging glance toward the Italian and withdrew from Methos' embrace. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around his bent knees.

"Hrumpf! You wouldn't know what to do with me if we were, Tony."

Methos dipped his head and burst out laughing. The Italian flushed in embarrassing consternation. Stammering a rebuttal, he hollered,

"S..st..stand up and turn around, I said!"

The Highlander blew out a long sigh and in one fluid motion, stood up, towering over the smaller man. Tony visibly swallowed at the man's athletic ability and stepped back.

"I said turn around!"

Mac grudgingly obeyed but grimaced when the smaller man lashed his wrists behind him. Tony jerked the rope until it bit into the Scot's flesh. The pirate captain told Cookie to remain in camp. He and the rest made the short trek to the underground cavern. The group gathered around the opening looking to their leader for instructions. He motioned towards the Asian.

"Chee, you and Jocko take Snake and Pierson and drop down in there and start digging. Tony, Jake, stand by to give them anything they need." He glanced over at the Highlander. "Toby, you better help 'em and keep an eye on that one." motioning toward Methos. "I'll watch him," nodding at MacLeod.

The rope Chee had earlier tied onto the nearby breadfruit tree branch was still there. The Asian swiftly climbed down into the cave followed by Methos, Jocko and Snake. Jocko relit the coal oil lamp they'd left behind. Snake caught the tools lowered down to them. Methos took a pick and commenced hacking away at the loose shale concealing the treasure chest. With all four of them working steadily for over an hour, Methos' pick finally hit something solid with a metal ping sound.

"I think I've found something." Methos alerted the others. "Over here."

The three men joined the Immortal and within another thirty minutes, they'd dug out the shape of a large metal chest.

"We've found it, Scar." Jocko called up to the surface.

The black patched captain motioned to Jake and MacLeod.

"Get down there and help bring it up."

MacLeod had been sitting cross legged, his hands still bound. He stood up and twisted around to show his ropes to Scar.

"What about these?"

Scar glanced impatiently at the Scot and jerked a nod toward Jake.

"Untie him and the two of you get down there."

By the time Jake and Duncan made it into the cavern, the full shape of the black, square chest with a dome shaped lid. Even covered in dust, Methos recognized the tiny emblem emblazoned on its sides. A tiny gold dragon was painted on each of the four sides. The Immortal ran a reverent hand over the dragon. It had been many centuries since he'd seen it and could only imagine what was contained within.

"My God." he quietly exclaimed.

MacLeod paused from scraping the shale powder securing the trunk and cast a curious look at the ancient.

"What is it, Adam? Have you seen this before?"

His words caused the others of the group to stop their work and look at Methos fingering the emblem. If he wasn't mistaken, this might be part of the mythical treasure amassed by the Nibelungs, a people that lived in Scandinavia many centuries ago. He shook his dust covered head in bewilderment.

"I don't see how it could be." he dumbfoundedly shook his head. "Come on, let's get this out and up on level ground."

The men followed his lead and drug out the chest from its hiding place. As the others worked to rig ropes around the bulky chest, Methos' memories drifted back over two thousand years ago to what now is known as Sweden.

Methos quietly entered King Nibelung's throne room. Approaching the monarch, he bowed low to the fur covered floor. The Immortal shivered in the frigid, Scandinavian air. The room's stone walls were lined with tapestries and the floors covered with animal pelts. It still did not keep out the bitter, below zero, winter winds.

The king impatiently motioned the taller man to his side with a ring laden hand. He sat in a large, oak chair covered with gold overlay. Its arms and back were studded with precious gems including emeralds and rubies. Atop its high back was a set of reindeer antlers.

"Matan, I need your counsel." he began, brushing his long, sable hair away from his handsome face. He motioned for him to sit down on the floor beside his chair.

The younger appearing man's shoulder length, dark brown hair was drawn back from his aristocratic face with a leather thong. He wore a mid-calf length deerskin jerkin over a pair of tanned bearskin leggings. His feet were covered with fur lined, leather boots that reaching over his ankles. Methos settled down beside "Nibby." The Immortal's headache and nausea he'd felt upon entering the room was subsiding. The King had been an Immortal a little over one hundred years.

"Do you have a problem, Your Majesty?" Methos never called him Nibby unless they were alone in the monarch's chambers.

"Yes, I missed you." The smaller man idly caressed his counselor/lover's neck. "I don't like it when you are so far away from me."

Methos relaxed and dropped his head forward from the unbidden neck massage he was being given.

"I was checking on my cargo. My ship is to sail on the morrow's tide."

Nibelung leaned over and pressed his warm lips to the Immortal's left temple.

"Um-m, you smell so good, like the fresh spring rain."

"Do you have to leave so soon this time, my love?"

Matan's right hand rubbed a path up the inner thigh of the King causing him to shiver. The few servants present knew to ignore any unusual actions in which their monarch participated. Thusly, when he lifted his counselor's face by the chin and planted a warm kiss on his lips, they dutifully looked the other direction.

Methos' mouth felt as if it were on fire as Nibbey's questing tongue assaulted every nook and cranny of his mouth. The king grew tired of his lover's mouth. By the hungry look in his glittering silver gaze, Methos knew the ruler wouldn't wait until they went to bed.

Silently, Methos toed off his boots. Neibelung grinned and swiftly tugged the other man's shirt up over his head before Methos could do it himself. Goose bumps peppered Methos' bare flesh from the chilly air. He soon forgot his discomfort when the smaller man pushed him down flat on the floor. Methos' lower back tickled from the bearskin upon which he was lying. The king grasped Matan's nipples in both hands and pinched, rolled and rubbed them until they protruded and begged for more attention. Nibbey gladly obliged and lowered his mouth onto one of them as his other hand teased and tormented its mate.

Methos wriggled and twisted his slender body in erotic desire. He eagerly lifted his hips when his partner unlaced his jerkins and tugged the pants down off Methos' long legs. The Immortal now lay naked, his skin turning a rosy hue in anticipation of what his skilled partner would do next.

Nibbey finally deserted Matan's breasts. He paused briefly to delve his tongue and teeth into the other man's navel. The darker complexioned Immortal began to lick tiny hot streaks all over Methos' abdomen until it felt as if a hundred separate fires had been set all over his body.

Much to the Horseman's chagrin, the king ignored his groin and rigid sex. Instead, he parted Methos' knees. He stopped short of lifting Methos' hips himself. Instead, he motioned two of his male servants forward and instructed them to lift Matan's body up into the air until his posterior was at an eye level with that of King Nibelong. After all, a royal king did not kneel down on the floor like a commoner.

Nibbey had done this before but it never failed to embarrass Methos. His face and neck flushed a brilliant red.

King Nibelung pretended not to notice his lover's discomfort. Stepping into the space between Matan's outspread legs, he laved his tongue and lips around the other Immortal's orifice. Nibbey soon had his lover moaning and writhing in the menservants' arms. And when Nibbey plunged his tongue deeply into the opening, Methos' shaft bolted into the air. Matan loudly moaned in response to the sexual stimulation. Nibbey seemed to ignore his plight, continuing to withdraw and dip his tongue into the older Immortal's ass.

"Please, Nibbey, give me more!" Methos begged.

Nibelung smiled. This was just what he wanted. Matan naked and helpless and begging to be fucked. If he didn't know the man was loving every moment of his torment, the king would've been tempted to stop. He knew his lover, however. Matan was ecstatically enjoying every moment.

The king eventually stepped back and ordered the two servants to place Matan on the now empty serving table. The naked man almost jumped out of their arms when his back and buttocks collided with the cold wood. The men dutifully held him down and lifted both his legs above his head.

A petite, blond female servant named Mina handed a bowl and an object to her master. She kept her brown eyes averted from the scene unfolding before her. It wasn't the first time she'd seen this, nor would it be her last. In fact, she had been on the receiving end a time or two. Even so, she couldn't quite understand the immense satisfaction the king and his counselor received from these types of games. The tips of her ears pinked when she heard Matan cry out,

"Oh, yes, Nibbey, yes! Please, more!"

She observed the king taking a large dollop of freshly churned butter and smearing it onto Matan's buttocks and an egg shaped, oblong piece of wood. He prepared Matan by pushing in first one finger, then another into him. After what seemed to her to be too many tormenting moments, Nibelung removed his fingers. Picking up the egg shaped stick that had been resting in a bowl of freshly fallen snow, the monarch placed it up to Matan's opening. Mina's curiosity got the best of her. She swiveled her rapt gaze onto the two men. The counselor roared from the freezing invasion; yet, curiously, continued begging for even more. Nibelung obliged by slowly pushing the crudely made dildo even further into Matan's rectum.

"Oh, God, Nibbey! Yes! More, please!" he begged.

Nibbey chuckled. "You like that, don't you, Matan. You want more and you want me, too, don't you."

Methos shuddered as the large instrument was inserted higher and higher in his cavity. When the object was completely inside him and his voice returned, he raggedly whispered, "Only you, Nibbey, only you."

Nibbey lowered his teeth onto his lover and munched a long path from his groin, up the center of his pale body to his lips. Methos wasn't completely aware when his lover removed the object and replaced it with his own rock hard shaft.

"I love you, Matan. More than I ever thought possible." the king murmured.

He wrapped his wide hand around Methos' rod and began pumping it up and down in rhythm to his own shaft withdrawing and plunging deeply into his lover's body. When the two men explosively came simultaneously, semen spurted all over Methos' outer body and into the farthest reaches of his inner body.

Much later, the two Immortals lay side by side in Nibelung's huge bed. They were in the half twilight of wakefulness, having finished another session of mutual sex. This time, in the privacy of his bedchamber, Nibbey was the receiver of Matan's juices. After all, it really wouldn't do for the reigning King of Scandinavia to be penetrated in full view of his servants.

Nibbey cuddled closely to his handsome Counselor. Methos, in turn, wrapped his long arms even tighter around the smaller man and traced unseen circles on his naked back. The youthful appearing Immortal had been with lovers who liked kinky sex and others who were violent in the extreme. Nibbey enjoyed innovative sex but he was a teddy bear. His Immortal heart was loving and tender. It was a major cause of why he was so beloved of his people.

It was rumored that the Nibelungs owned a vast hoard of gold and jewels. Rumor also had it that it had been obtained many centuries before from a realm of mist and darkness. Whatever it was, the fortune seemed tainted with greed and madness. Many of its rulers and their families had mysteriously disappeared. It had only been with King Nibelung's Immortality and gentle goodness that the kingdom at long last knew peace.

Methos was drawn from his daydreams by Nibbey's warm lips on his neck.

"Love? Are you awake?" the smaller Immortal asked.

"Yes." Matan responded.

Nibbey drew himself away from the other man's warmth. He fumbled for a small chest on the bedside table.

"Here, I want to show you something."

Nibelung lit a taper and held out a large ring. The band was of solid gold. On one side a dragon had been etched and on the other a reindeer stag, its head lifted up into the wind. The stone itself was what captured Methos' attention. It was the size of a small plum with a distinct division of purplish and crimson colors dancing in the candlelight. Nibbey held it out to Methos.

"Put it on." he bid. "This ring is said to have magical powers." Nibelung pointed to the unique stone. "See how the two colors are blended but remain apart?"

"Yes."

"Legend has it that if a man wears this ring and places it on the hand of his lover, if the colors within the stone remain separate, that person is his one true love. If not, then the colors will merge into one, sometimes purple and sometimes red."

Nibelung slipped it onto Matan's finger. His expression filled face saddened when the stone's colors melded into one of a deep royal purple. Matan removed the ring and cradled Nibbey's cheek in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Nibbey." he whispered.

"I, too, Matan. I, too."

CHAPTER 9

MacLeod laid his hand on Methos' shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Are you okay?"

An erotic chill coursed up the ancient's spine from the Scot's ticklish breath in his ear.

"Hm-mm? Yeah, I'm fine." he replied with a small smile. "Just reminiscing."

Methos gazed at Mac's gloriously nude body and his sable hair curling in long waves around his broad shoulders. The elder Immortal's hazel eyes absorbed his lover's doe brown ones that shimmered in the reddish rays of the setting sun.

Even now, Methos was astounded that two such different personalities like his and Duncan's had merged into one entity. The Highlander's needs, his safety, his longings, his pain had become Methos' pain, need, safety and longing. It was as if he was but one half of a person unless Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod were by his side. Matan's mouth quirked up in a grin.

<I wonder if Nibbey's ring would change to one solid color or remain the same?>

Their attention was diverted to the pirates gathering around the trunk.

"What are ya gonna do wi' yer share, Snake?" Jake eagerly asked.

All of the men present, except the Immortals, were huddled around Chee and Jocko working on the lock and chain. The man with the tattoo shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"Guess I'm going back to the States and buy a bar. I'm tired of the sea." he replied.

A loud snap disrupted any further discussion as the aged lock finally snapped in two. Nine greedy faces leaned closer. Scar shoved the other two men aside and heaved up the heavy lid to reveal its contents. A collective gasp escaped from the group. Inside the chest gold coins, doubloons, nuggets and gold bars lay in heaps. As fantastic a sight as it was, however, it paled in comparison to the jewels. Rubies, emeralds, pearls, opals and diamonds glittered among the shining gold, varying in size and shape and too numerous to count. Scar's blue eye shone with delight. He was a wealthy man. If the others thought he'd share the bulk of the treasure with them, they had another guess coming.

"When will we split it up, Cap'n?" Tony asked.

"Carry it back to the ship. We'll divvy it up there." answered Scar.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Scar and the others began the trek back to the shore that night. A luminous full moon illuminated the trail. MacLeod and Toby Shafer rigged up a sling from some of the canvass material they'd brought. When they set out, Methos led the way, followed by Scar and Chee. MacLeod, Snake, Jocko and Jake carried the treasure chest. Toby followed them trailed by Cookie and Tony. They traveled a few miles until sometime after midnight, Scar called a halt until dawn. A few hours sleep refreshed the small group and they were once again moving. Everything went smoothly until the pirates reached the swamp.

Duncan's bare feet squished into the shifting silt and sand buried under two feet of muddy water. The cold, clinging mud between his toes reminded him of his boyhood days in the Scottish highlands and the mud bog in the forest near his Glenfinnan home. The weight of the pole bearing the canvass-slinged treasure chest pressed into Duncan's naked shoulder until it felt as if he carried an anvil.

All around them, birds and parrots of all the colors of the rainbow screeched. Macaws with long white plumed tails floated effortlessly through the trees. Stinging mosquitoes irritated the silent men. Everyone was well aware of the fact that predators lurked all around them. Snakes, crocodiles and other animals were just waiting for one careless slip up or misstep. Therefore, when the water moccasin snake bit a chunk out of Tony's leg, the small man's scream caused them to jump.

Duncan quickly lowered his side of the chest and sloshed back to the writhing man. He grabbed an offered handkerchief and tied it snugly in an attempt to slow the deadly poison. The rest of the crew gathered around their shipmate and watched his ashen face contort in agony. Mac lifted the sex hungry sailor's leg and drew out the poison by sucking on the bite with his mouth.

"God! Can't somebody do somethin'?!" the dying man screamed.

Methos retraced his steps and stood quietly behind MacLeod. He'd seen too many mortals die of snake bites and knew it was a question of time before the wretch would succumb. He also knew his Highlander would try his best to save the man. It didn't seem quite fair to Methos. Tony had raped and tormented Duncan without a second thought. Even so, Mac would unthinkingly give up his own life if it would save the bastard. Methos' mouth turned up at one corner in a half grin. That was just one of the many attributes that had attracted the oldest Immortal to the flamboyant Highlander in the first place. Duncan MacLeod, the Clan Chieftain, always put everyone else's welfare before his own. There were far too few Immortals, or mortals for that matter, that willingly made those sacrifices.

All of the Scot's futile efforts were for naught. The belligerent Italian died in writhing agony within a few moments. Methos and MacLeod exchanged a long look as the Scot stood up from the dead man's body. The elder Immortal could read the Highlander's face. He felt responsible. Somehow, he should've been able to save the ill-fated sailor's life. When would his soul mate learn? There was just so much one could do for mortals. MacLeod's forehead wrinkled even further until Methos caught his eye and shook his head, mouthing the word <no.> and laid a gentle hand on the Scot's shoulder.

"Come on, MacLeod; we can't help him now."

"Aw right! You've seen death before! Let's get moving!" Scar demanded. "You, MacLeod, pick up that chest and haul your ass."

When Mac was slow to respond, the one eyed pirate shook out the whip he always kept attached to his belt. With a flick of Scar's hand, the leather bit sharply into the Scot's shoulder.

"I said *move*!" he almost shouted.

The man's eyes widened in surprise, however, when MacLeod grabbed the whip, twisting the leather until it coiled on his forearm. Dragging Scar toward him, he followed through with a right cross to his jaw. Scar fell to his knees, but MacLeod didn't give him a chance to get up. All the days of abuse and pain flooded his brain. He was once more the Highland warrior defending his home and honor. Mac drug the man up by his collar to a standing position and delivered a hard jab to Scar's abdomen, doubling the man over and down to his knees yet again.

From the corner of his eye, Methos saw Chee raise his hand to deliver a killing judo chop to MacLeod's exposed neck. Methos chose that split second to pull out his knife from its hiding place in his shorts and jumped on the Asian. The saffron skinned man had been the one who'd dry fucked Methos the first day. He intended to make the Viet Namese pay for it. Chee reached for his own dagger and flipped it into the air into a ready position. The two men circled each other in the water. Jabs and cuts soon had Chee's T-shirt in ribbons and Methos' chest a mass of slices and blood. The eldest Immortal's face had assumed the iron mask of his former persona of "The Horseman." He bided his time until the Asian left his stomach open. Methos stepped close, plunged his knife to its hilt in the paunchy gut of the Viet Namese. The man grabbed the Immortal's left arm but "Death" twisted his knife even deeper. He ignored the Asian's blood splattering his own body and dyeing the surrounding water a sickly pink.

Methos knew the instant the other man died and jerked his knife free. He then swung around on the other pirates.

"Who's next? Come on; I've just gotten started." he snarled.

Meanwhile the Highlander still fought the pirate captain. He drug Scar up to his knees by the scruff of his shirt. "I'm not through!" MacLeod growled.

Mac grabbed Scar's hair and lifted his already battered face up into his steely eyed, almost blackened gaze. "How does it feel, Scar? How does it feel to be on the receiving end?" Hesitating a millisecond, MacLeod delivered a jaw shattering fist to the pirate. Having lost touch with reality, the tall Scot's one focus was to eliminate his rapist and abuser from the face of the earth. Duncan wasn't aware of the tears streaming down his face or his gut wrenching sobs. His rock hard hands clamped around Scar's neck and plunged him beneath the murky waters. He was oblivious to the pirate's clawing, desperate hands or the yells of the other men around him. Not even when Scar's movements ceased did he relinquish his hold. It wasn't until Methos grabbed his lover's shoulders and pulled on him, shouting his name, that the blood red mist covering his vision and thoughts ebbed.

"Mac! Duncan! Let him go! He's dead!" Methos yelled.

Methos kept tugging at MacLeod until he felt him finally release the other man. He lifted Mac up under his arms. Duncan's sobs and tears tore at the ancient's gut. How he wished he could protect this brave, courageous man from the evils of other men, from the torments the Scot had been forced to face. The hazel eyed Immortal turned his gasping, exhausted warrior around and folded the larger man into his loving arms. They both fell to their knees in the swampy water. Tears threatened Methos' vision as he clutched his one true love close to his chest. He soothed the Highlander with murmuring words and warm strokes through the man's long, tangled hair and back and shoulders. Neither man noticed that Scar's crew had suddenly quietened and stood staring at the blatant example of loving commitment being exhibited before them.

Toby Shafer had been keeping the others out of the two fights. He hadn't approved of the continual rapings and the way Scar had treated the stranded men. Toby figured MacLeod and Pierson deserved their rights to a few pounds of flesh. At the same time, he wasn't averse to killing them if it became necessary. He lowered the pistol he'd cocked in case he needed it. Looking down at the Scot's weeping figure being caressed by his partner, Toby knew he hadn't any worries. Stashing his pistol in his belt, he turned toward the others and ordered them to get started. No one said a word as the two captives slowly followed them. Not one person looked back at the three bodies floating in the swampy water.

CHAPTER 10

The rest of the trek back to the Pacific shore was uneventful. Methos walked beside a silent Highlander. Once they arrived at the Immortals' beach side camp, preparations were made to return to the ship. Methos knew the pirates would leave them on the island. Quite frankly, he preferred it to the pirates' company. Methos' main worry was his youngster. He had to be sure the other Immortal would be okay. MacLeod was given a pair of dungarees to wear. He laid down on his stomach on the still warm sand. His tousled hair covered his face which rested on his folded bronzed arms. The older Immortal wordlessly massaged the Scot's rigid back and shoulders with long, soothing strokes. If he could keep the Highland child from too deep a brood and too many dark thoughts, they would survive.

A brief meeting of the pirates culminated in Toby Shafer's being elected captain of the "Alyssa". He was as honest a man as a pirate could be, and as far as he was concerned, he and his men would be satisfied with the gold and jewels. He'd leave the two men alone here on their island. Somebody else could pick them up and rescue them.

"Toby? What'll we do now?" Jocko asked the new commander of their ship.

The black man towered over the Aussie. "We'll get this treasure back to the ship and head for our home base."

Around the camp fire that night, the men pawed through the treasure. Methos, for the most part, ignored what the money hungry sailors were doing, but his attention was immediately refocused on the stone ring Snake held.

"No, it couldn't be." Methos murmured.

Standing up, he crossed over to the tattooed man. "Can I see that?" he asked motioning to the ring.

Snake glanced down at the ring. It was ugly except for the huge, two colored stone. It wouldn't bring much.

"Sure." he agreed and tossed the piece of jewelry over to Methos.

Methos retraced his steps and sat down beside the prone figure of MacLeod. His lover had not moved since their return. Holding the ring up, Methos clearly saw the gold circle with its distinctive dragon carved on one side and the stag on the other. The massive stone itself sparkled in the firelight, reflecting the two colors of purple and crimson. The ancient smiled and slipped the ring onto his left hand. Recalling the legend of the ring told to him by Nibelung, Methos smiled and thought to himself,

<We'll see tomorrow after this sorry lot has left, Duncan MacLeod, if you are my one true love.>

Toby Shafer bid the two Immortals good-bye. The two men had a deep secret. It would've been interesting to find out how both of them healed as fast as they did. Yet, he had all too well noticed the way Pierson and MacLeod had handled themselves in the fight. Toby would rather not pursue that matter. He'd just as soon stay ignorant. The vessel set sail on the early morning tide.

MacLeod and Methos stood on the shore watching the "Alyssa" leave. Mac's right arm was folded over his lover's shoulders while Methos' left arm fit snugly around MacLeod's trim waist.

"You know, Methos, we should've left with them." MacLeod quietly observed.

The older Immortal shrugged. "Maybe, but then I'd have to share you with them. And I'll not do that, Duncan MacLeod. I'll not share you with anyone else."

Duncan turned to the right and into his partner's embrace. "You're sure about that, huh, Methos? How do you know my eye won't stray?" he teased. "What if I find another that's younger and prettier and....."

Any further words were smothered in gales of giggling laughter as Methos' teasing hands tickled and jabbed MacLeod's sides. Before the Scotsman could take a breath, his mouth was captured by his partner's hot demanding lips and tongue. Methos delved the hot interior of Mac's mouth, laving and tormenting every surface of teeth and gums. Meanwhile, his relentless hands were tweaking the Highlander's nubs before traveling around to the Scot's bare back. After a long breathless bout of kissing, Methos drew away much to MacLeod's consternation.

"Methos, where are 'ye goin'?" he begged.

The slimmer man pulled on Mac's dungaree belt loops. "These have to go, MacLeod. I told you if I got you alone again, I'd keep you naked and ready for me at all times." he demanded, his hands on his hips. "Now, strip!"

Duncan blinked but the thought to rebel never occurred to him. He wordlessly unzipped his pants and stepped out of the offending trousers. Standing there in all his nude glory, the Scot helplessly blushed a bright red under the intense scrutiny of his mate. Methos crossed the short distance to the other Immortal and pushed him down onto the sand. He leaned in and recaptured Mac's steaming mouth. Taking his time, his lips and teeth nibbled a hot path around MacLeod's face and eyes before trailing over to his ear. His tongue laved all around the lobe before dipping into its inner cavern and eliciting a shiver of anticipation from its' owner's body.

Methos kept up the assault down the Scot's neck and over to his Adam's Apple and the depression just underneath it. Meanwhile, his hands relentlessly twisted and pulled on the Highlander's nipples which were now protruding and taut with desire. Methos replaced his hands with his lips, biting and scraping his teeth over first one then the other of MacLeod's breasts. Not allowing any respite, the eldest Immortal's tongue dipped down into his lover's navel while his constantly moving hands traced a hot path to Mac's groin. Wriggling even further down on MacLeod's body, Methos' hands and mouth engulfed his lover's penis and rapidly engorging sacs.

"Oh, God, Methos, yes, yes!" MacLeod yelled, grabbing fruitlessly at the other man's hair.

The former Horseman batted away Mac's hands. His left hand grabbed Duncan's wrists and held them above the Highlander's thrashing head. Meanwhile, he pressed a single finger up into the tight webbed ring of entrance to Mac's inner body.

"You don't want me to tie you up, do you?" he demanded playfully.

It took Methos a brief time to realize MacLeod had suddenly frozen his movements. Looking up from the Scot's groin, he saw Mac's normally dark skinned face had lost its color. MacLeod's warm brown eyes were dilated in fear. It was blatantly apparent that Mac's mind had reverted back to the many rapings he'd suffered at the hands of Scar and his cronies.

"Duncan?" he whispered and covered the other man's trembling body with his. "It's me, Methos, Mac. You're safe; I'm here. I won't let anything else happen to you. I promise." he soothed.

Stroking long soothing movements along MacLeod's arms and shoulders, Methos continued calming the younger man's panic with both tactile and auditory stimuli, his voice and his hands and his body. After a little while, Duncan's mind returned to the present and he realized his lover was holding him and not Scar and the others.

"I'm sorry, Duncan. I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories." he soothed. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, my darling."

Duncan MacLeod shuddered and desperately drew his partner's body into his.

"No, Methos, I want this. I need to know the gentle, loving side of sex." Clutching his lover's body, he added, "Please fuck me, Methos. Fuck me your way, not their way."

The elder Immortal hesitated a moment until he saw his Highlander's brown eyes soften and glow with desire. He wordlessly nodded and resumed his assault on the Scot's erotic senses. Methos reached over and picked up a vial of oil he'd procured from the ship's cook. He prepared both his own rigid, weeping shaft and Mac's opening. Taking his time, he slowly inserted his fingers, stretching and widening his Highlander's tight, hot channel. Several moments later, he smiled at MacLeod's groan when he removed his digits. Replacing them with his shaft, he laughed at MacLeod's roar of frustration. Mac couldn't wait any longer and jerked Methos' hips and shaft deeply into his innermost depths. The Scot was so tight and so hot. Every time they made love it was as if it were the first time. The old Horseman had never known a more pleasurable sexual partner than Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

Unable to delay their bodies' demands, both men yelled as their simultaneous orgasms shot fiery trails throughout their bodies. Both of them shivered with the after shocks of their lovemaking and fell into each other's arms.

Unbeknownst to the lovers, Toby Shafer stood on the Alyssa's bridge. He lowered the pair of binoculars with which he'd been watching the two men. For some reason, the aging black man had been worried about the young Highlander. He was fearful the man would have long lasting problems from his treatment at his and the crew's hands. The building breeze wafted in the loud shouts of the two men as each one spurted his body's juices. Toby laughed and focused his attention back on the map before him. Those two would be just fine.

Lying together on the warm sand, arms and legs wrapped around each other, Methos slipped off Nibbey's ring.

"What's that?" MacLeod mumbled.

"I found this among the treasure. Try it on."

Duncan lifted up his left hand and Methos slipped the unique ring on the Scot's third finger. He wordlessly watched and waited for the two colors of purple and red to merge. When each shade remained unto itself, he leaned over and kissed MacLeod fully upon his lush, kissable mouth.

"What does it mean, Methos?" the Scot queried when he could again take a breath.

"It means, angel, that you are my one true love. You are my life, my breath, my being, now and forever always." he ruggedly answered.

"How dae you know tha'?" the Scot asked, his brogue thickening.

Methos, a smug look on his handsome face, replied, "Because, my love, I said so. Doubt not your elder."

"Oh, yeah?" MacLeod quipped and upended his laughing partner to shower him with kisses.

A long while later, Duncan lifted his tired head and with sleepy doe eyes, gazed at the ring on his left hand, still reflecting two colors.

"You'll have to tell me about this ring, Methos."

The older Immortal snuggled further into his lover's arms. "Um hum, but not now, Duncan."

With that, the two men fell asleep, engulfed with the quiet reassuring knowledge that their love was true. It was the "til death do us part" kind.

"Go to sleep, my love." he whispered and nuzzled his Highlander's neck.

THE END