Guys Night Out Arc
#2 - Another One Bites the Fluff

by Frances Rolfe

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"Duncan, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Methos asked his companion for the tenth time.

"Yes, Methos, I'm sure." MacLeod paused with one foot in his pair of satin Calvin Kline's. Placing his hand seductively on his right hip, the Scottish tease turned toward his lover, his huge cock already half hard from their discussion. "What, don't you think I'll go through with it? Do you doubt me, old man?"

The five millennia Immortal smirked as his bright hazel eyes took in the devastatingly delicious sight of his nude lover. "Well, now that you mention it, yes, Duncan. I don't believe you'll get up on that stage." He crossed the few feet until he stood eye to eye with the Highland youngster. Idly toying with MacLeod's left tit, he leaned in until their brows touched. "You're going to chicken out on me, Duncan MacLeod."

The Scot's lower lip pillowed out in a half pout. "No, I won't, Methos. I'll do it." By now, his briefs had fallen unheeded to the loft's floor. As much as MacLeod wanted to ignore his companion's teasing fingers on his left breast's button, the old man soon had Duncan twisting and turning and begging for his more graphic attention.

Methos grinned a sly, cat like smile and cupped the younger man's balls in his right hand. Massaging them and palpating the kernels within the twin pouches, his finger groped in behind them until it circled and toyed with the rose petal entrance they hid. Duncan audibly groaned and helplessly spread his long legs, his body craving more of the unique talents of the ancient Immortal.

"Oh, God, Methos! If you don't stop, we'll never get there by seven o'clock." Mac groaned.

The former Horseman's digit probed deeper into the Scot's opening, eliciting a louder moan and a more pronounced twitch of the handsome Highlander's delectable tush. After a few more moments of baiting, Methos abruptly stopped his ministrations and stepped back. Affecting a thinking man's pose by rubbing his chin, he gazed at his now thoroughly disconcerted lover and nodded.

"Perhaps you're right, MacLeod. Maybe you are ready at that." Having baited him, the slender man slipped into his overcoat and clucked at his friend. "You know, Duncan, if you don't get dressed, I'll be forced to drag you along to the club sans clothes."

Duncan blushed and stomped his foot, reminding the ancient of a child. "Dammit, old man, why do you do this to me?"

"Do what, Duncan?"

"Egg me on until I'm a basket case and then just walk away!" MacLeod remonstrated.

The elder Immortal cagily fixed an innocent look on his aristocratic face. "Come along, Mac. I just wanted to get you in the right mood."

"Get me in the mood, Methos! I'll have you know...." He was so lost in his half hearted argument with his friend, MacLeod started toward the elevator of his loft.

Methos suppressed a laugh and reminded his lover. "Uh, Duncan? I'd suggest you get dressed first or the cops will arrest you for indecent exposure."

Duncan glanced down at his totally nude and very aroused body. His blush extended from his head to his toes as he tossed his overcoat aside and stomped back toward his clothes closet. "Damn you, Methos!" he exclaimed.

The Immortal purposely opened the door and looked back at his lover who was hurriedly donning his clothes. "Uh, Mac, I think you've already said that once." He then dodged his three hundred year old volume of Shakespearian plays that was thrown at him.

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MacLeod pulled his antique black Thunderbird into the graveled driveway of "The Red Door." On the outside it resembled one of the several roadway inns located in the outskirts of Seacouver. The two story, former private home of a failed industrialist, its exterior exuded the mansion's once plush decor. It's red brick exterior, "widow's peak" and sprawling covered porch, extending the length of the home, all combined to lend it an aura of authenticity.

No one in passing would have guessed that it was the favorite night spot for a special clientele. With few neighbors within a ten mile radius, its owners were basically left to pursue their sexual preferences. In other words, anyone could enter their doors and participate in the varied sexual exploits made available to them. The Red Door had private, upstairs rooms for couples or small groups who desired a more intimate setting. It also had a massage parlor, a bondage and discipline room, and a S&D salon.

Although its members were free to utilize the equipment available in the sadism and masochism room, the owner would not allow any violent or life threatening activities.

Because their clients' behaviors were somewhat restrictive, Hannah Devalon had never been bothered by any law enforcement departments. In fact, some of her regular customers were in fact members of the Seacouver Police Department. Plus, the fact that the night club was in the county and not the city meant that they weren't bothered with protesters.

The final available area for her customers was the main ballroom. Tastefully furnished in the same Victorian decor, it provided a circular stage for her clients to "perform" in front of an audience. Whether they wanted to dance, be whipped, tortured or any other delightful amusement, it was done before an audience. The one restriction, however, was that only the client and his partner could participate. The audience was allowed to watch but that was all.

Hannah set an arrangement of long stemmed, red roses on the antique sideboard near the entrance of the plush room. Her guests had been arriving for the main performance for the past hour. Hearing the door bell heralding another customer, the tall, ash blonde Madam checked her appearance in the full length hall mirror. She waited until Jonathan, her major domo, opened the large door and admitted the two men.

Both handsome specimens were around six feet tall. One was slender with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He was deceptively thin but she could tell he could hold his own in a fight. This one moved like a black panther. His eyes were constantly moving and on the alert for any untoward activity. His face was unremarkable for the most part except for his aquiline, aristocratic nose. Still, the longer she looked, the more handsome and distinguished he became.

His companion, however, was the one who truly caught her experienced eye. He was powerfully built with wide shoulders and a broad chest. His brownish-black hair was long and pulled back into a neat pony tail. When he turned to hand Jonathan his overcoat, Hannah saw that he had an antique silver clip binding it in place. Hannah had a hunch his hair clasp would not last too very long tonight. Not if she read his lover's leer of anticipation correctly.

The dark one's movements, unlike his partner's, were those of a lion; the king of the pride. He was the dominant male who would fight any and all comers and would defend his family to his death. This one was dressed in form fitting, dark gray slacks and a royal blue, silk, long sleeved shirt. His muscles competed with his shirt for attention. He'd been wearing a pair of sun glasses, but when he regally removed them, Hannah's violet eyes widened with desire. His eyes were large and dark brown, as if they were pools of chocolate. At first glance, they were flashing and almost black, but when he looked over at his companion, they softened into those of a doe or a puppy.

Hannah shook her head. *Too bad.* she thought. *His love for his companion emanated from his almost perfect build.* When she approached them, she was all smiles; the men having no clue as to her thoughts.

"Welcome gentlemen, to the Red Door. I do hope our establishment pleases you both and you have a pleasant visit here tonight."

The lighter built one cracked a half grin, but the larger one's smile beamed in obvious appreciation of her beauty. He was the one who spoke to her.

"This is our...ah...first time here, Ms...?" His lilting, baritone, softly accented voice echoed in the high ceilinged hall.

The madam smiled and held out her hand. "My name is Hannah Devalon, but you can just call me Hannah, Mr...."

"MacLeod, Duncan MacLeod and this is Adam Pierson." he introduced, taking his hostess' hand and kissing the back of it.

"We are happy to have you, Mr. MacLeod and Mr. Pierson. Do you gentlemen have a working knowledge of what we have to offer our clientele?"

The one named Adam smiled as he looked over at his partner. "Yes, Hannah, we do. We're interested in your main salon. My companion would like to be the main 'course,' if you know what I mean?"

"...most assuredly, Mr. Pierson. We will be happy to oblige." She led them into the main ballroom and sat them on a nearby sofa. "We're waiting for a few more guests." She laid a manicured hand on MacLeod's sleeve. "I look forward to your performance, Mr. MacLeod."

Duncan blushed and dropped his head. "Thank you, Hannah; I shall do my best."

"Of that, I am sure." she bragged, leaning a curved hip against the Scot's. Her right hand just happened to skim a light path down his back and onto his buns. "Um-hum, quite sure."

MacLeod furiously blushed and mouthed to his partner, "Get me away from her."

Methos smothered a laugh before hinging himself to the Highlander's other side. Mac, at this point, felt almost as though he were a sandwich. Instead of removing Hannah's roving hand, he merely directed it to MacLeod's left buttock. For himself, he chose his partner's right one. His seeking fingers start at Mac's waist and slowly progress downwards. Methos palpated Duncan's hip, then, in a spider fashion, he dotted a trail from the Scot's side over to the edge of his crease but did not delve into it. Methos then retraced his path back across the rounded portion of Mac's posterior, making sure his questing fingers dipped into MacLeod's dimple. He then returned from whence he came, only lower this time until his fingers toyed with the tight indention that led to MacLeod's secret place.

Hannah, enjoying the free show, continued to squeeze tiny spots all over Mac's left rump. Not wanting to be left out, she snaked her left hand up to the handsome Scot's top button of his shirt and unbuttoned it. She then unbuttoned the next and the next until his shirt was open to his waist. The blonde's polished finger tips plunged into the opening and began pinching and rolling and grazing Mac's left nipple.

What began as gentle teasing between Hannah and Adam now turned into competition in who could arouse MacLeod to the greatest level. Unfortunately for Hannah, however, who's own knowledge was considerable, Adam knew Duncan's sensitive areas. He unpenitently utilized this toward his own advantage.

Methos lowered Mac's blue silk shirt off his very broad right shoulder, thus effectively pinning the Highlander's right arm. Then, turning his hand palm side outward, he caressed Mac's right side with his fingers. The old man's fingers then began an assault of his lover's right tit. He grinned a rebuke at his competitor.

Hannah deserted MacLeod's night taut nub and sought out his belt. She deftly unbuckled it with her one hand and lowered his zipper. Her hand then slipped into the inner sanctum and began methodically rubbing and stimulating Mac's now rigid shaft.

Somewhat forgotten in the unvoiced battle was the object of their ministrations: Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander, by now, had no inkling of where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. All he knew was he'd been squeezed in between one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen and a male that was the most volatile of lovers. It did not register to him that they still stood in the open doorway of the main ballroom. He had no awareness of the onlookers who'd gathered to watch or that he'd been methodically stripped in front of everyone present. All Mac knew was that he was hot as hell, hard as a rock and desperately needed to lie down before he folded in the floor.

Methos had wondered just how far MacLeod would let them go with his body. He'd commenced this little "exercise" just to get a rise out of the Scotsman. It was very plain to him by now, however, that Duncan was a slut at heart and had lost all reality with time and place. The older Immortal loved it and he fully intended to milk the situation for all its worth.

Hannah exchanged a wry grin with her new friend and coconspirator. So, she announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have begun our festivities for this evening. Shall we retire to the stage, Duncan and Adam?" MacLeod was in no shape to answer so Methos did it for him. "We would be delighted, Hannah, but I fear I may need some help to get Mac up there."

The ancient ignored the laughter bubbling over the crowd. He nodded a thanks when a giant blond man with bright green eyes leaped up to assist him. Instead of helping Adam, however, he instead bodily picked up the Highlander as though he weighed nothing and carried him up onto the stage and to the chaise lounge.

Duncan started to lean into the muscular body that now held him, thinking it to be Methos. When he opened his mahogany eyes, however, and saw that it was a stranger, he gasped and began struggling. By now, he'd been deposited on the lounge so that any objection he might have had were to no avail.

He looked down in shock at his body. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, its right sleeve off his shoulder and pinning his right arm. His belt and pants had been opened and his stiff rod bulged out of the constraining cloth. What was more, every eye in the fifty or so gathered there was upon him.

Mac raised up and started to pull his clothes on, but Methos was there was restrained him with his hand.

"After all, Duncan, you said you'd do this and do anything I wanted." he reminded his lover.

"Yes, but..." the Highlander spluttered.

"But nothing. Now then, slave, I am your master." he ordered in his best rendition of the Horseman known as Death. "I want to stand up and take off the rest of your clothes."

Methos had to swallow his shock when his Highlander did as he was bade. First, he tugged was little remained of his tucked in silk shirt out and removed it. Then, he toed out of his brown loafers and socks. The magnificent Immortal specimen then sat down on the lounge and slid his gray slacks off, leaving him in only his blue satin briefs. Still a bit undone at the Scot's total lack of modesty, Methos leaned in and checked MacLeod's eyes. They were dazed and full of arousal but his pupils showed no signs of drug usage.

The older Immortal looked at towards the audience and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess he's ready." he quipped, to which the audience burst out laughing.

Hannah took a seat to the far left of the circular stage to enjoy the proceedings. She had already had her money's worth; any further revenues would be icing on the cake. Once again, she regretted that the gorgeous, muscular Scot was a "couple" with his partner on the stage. Leave to the good looking ones to have sexual tendencies like those. *Oh well, that's life.* she mused.

Methos strolled over to a side table and the wide selection of "toys." He chose a blindfold, a length of rope, a stainless steel chastity belt and a magic wand. When he brought them back to the lounge upon which MacLeod sat, his brown eyes widened. "What are all of those?"

"Those are our goodies for this evening, Mac." Sensing the younger man's perturbation, he leaned in and asked in a quiet voice, "Are you okay with this, Duncan? We don't have to go through with this unless you want to."

MacLeod's expressive eyes wavered over the collection again, his teeth nervously biting his lower lip. Instead of backing out like Methos fully expected, however, he nodded his head. "I said I was going through with this, Adam, and I will."

Methos leaned over and pressed his lips lightly to MacLeod's swollen ones. "Remember what I told you this morning; our safe word is Tessa. Just say that and I'll stop whatever I'm doing. All right?"

Duncan nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

The elder Immortal's slender lips lifted in one of his famous evil grins. "Well, for starters, let's dispose of this hair clip. I like your hair loose." He reached back and unfastened the antique silver clasp and ran his fingers through Mac's long, dark locks. He then picked up the blindfold. "And then, I think you need this." He walked behind the almost naked Highlander and slipped the gold lame mask snuggly over Mac's eyes.

Methos paced around Mac whose body was lightly shivering. He'd have to warm the old boy up. "I think I shan't let you come tonight until I'm good and ready, so I'll put this little harness on." He slipped his fingers on either side of Mac's briefs and with one smooth motion stripped them off the Immortal.

Mac now stood totally nude before the ogling crowd who applauded their appreciation of the Highlander's beauty. The Scot shifted from one foot to the other in mild nervousness but otherwise, did his best to not move.

Adam Pierson picked up the lamb's wool lined steel harness and had Mac step into it. He then brought it up over his hips and fastened the straps in the back. The apparatus not only secured Mac's charleys spilling over on either side of it, but provided a very provocative strap that covered the Scot's rosebud as well.

Methos nodded his approval and reached for the cusp. This was snapped in place and efficiently covered Mac's already fully aroused sex organ. "Good, so far." he mused and stepped back to inspect his work.

Duncan was still a bit uneasy but he trusted his lover. So much so, that when Methos popped his bare ass with the flat of his hand, he jumped.

"Here, now, I can't have my toy wiggling around like that. I see I'll just have to discipline you."

Picking up a riding crop, he turned the blind folded Scot around until his back faced their enraptured audience. He then proceeded to apply six firm strokes across Mac's ass. Duncan remained silent but danced from the fleeting pain.

Unseen by MacLeod, the ancient shook his head in disapproval to the audience. He turned to them and asked, "What do you all think? Should I take additional steps to ensure my toy's obedience?"

Naturally, they all voiced their approval. Having decided his next course of action, Adam returned to the table and picked up a set of handcuffs and another harness. He returned to the Scot and told him to hold his wrists out in front of him. MacLeod complied and Pierson snapped the steel bracelets onto his wrists.

He then asked for an assistant from the audience. The big blond man who'd carried MacLeod up onto the stage eagerly leapt up to help him. Between the two of them, they dragged a chinning bar to the center of the platform. The helper gazed expectantly at MacLeod but Methos intervened.

"Thanks for your help, partner."

The guy got the message. "Anytime." he crooned and jumped off the stage to his seat.

Pierson returned to the Scot. He admired the tasty treat before him and licked his lips. "Come along, beautiful." he ordered and pulled Mac toward the bar. He unlocked one of Mac's cuffs, looped it up over the bar and reattached it to MacLeod's wrist. The Highlander now had to stretch his arms high over his head. This left him standing almost on his toes.

Methos sidled up closely to MacLeod. "You know how desirable and erotic and begging you look now, slut?" he taunted, his voice low so that only the Scot heard him. He lightly touched Mac's pectorals and his taut tits. He followed Duncan's pelt of hair down the center of his body to his groin, only partially exposed due to his chastity belt.

Goosebumps and beads of sweat broke out all over the Highlander and he moaned, "Oh, God, Me...Adam..."

"Did I give you permission to speak, Toy?" Methos chided. He'd known his caresses would motivate MacLeod to say something; it was what he was waiting for.

"No, Master." MacLeod mumbled.

"Speak louder, Toy."

"I said, no, Master.."

"Very well then." Methos pulled out the heavy crop which with the flip of a switch became a cattle prod. He poked Mac's right ass cheek with just enough zing to cause Mac to jump. "Now, what do you say, Toy?"

"Thank you, Master; I deserved that. Do I earn something more for moving?"

Methos' greenish hued eyes glinted. "Now, you become too bold, Toy. You know I do not approve."

The ancient retraced his steps to the table and picked up two lengths of stout rope. He then spread Mac's legs as far apart as he could get them and tied his legs to the iron frame. The Highland child was now fully immobilized.

Adam picked his cattle prod back up and approached Mac from the front. He slid the stimulator's end up between his legs and alongside the metal belt. Methos smiled and jolted Mac with a stronger charge of electricity. Duncan drew in a sudden intake of breath as his body helplessly twitched but he said nothing this time.

"That is better, Toy," Methos rewarded. "But, I can see I have a very rebellious youth on my hands tonight."

He turned the chin bar around to where the group again gazed at Mac's luscious back and buttocks. Methos lay the prod to one side and picked up a short handled whip that had ten tiny leather strips on it. Methos was an expert when it came to whippings, whether for punishment or for pleasure. He settled back and popped the lashes silkily onto Duncan's exposed rear. Tonight was pleasure; pleasure for both himself and the Scot.

The older Immortal had been surprised when MacLeod had admitted to a well-hidden desire for playtimes such as these. It had taken his little experience at the whore house, as tough as it was, to bring out this side of him; the one that enjoyed it, up to a point. Methos was always careful to not cross that forbidden line with the handsome Highlander. He loved the sprout too much for that.

As his thoughts drifted, the ancient's whip kept up its methodical pace until the younger Immortal's butt was pleasantly red. He stopped because it wouldn't do to demonstrate Duncan's secret ability for rejuvenation. Adam walked up behind Mac and pulled back his sweaty hair. His lips found one of Mac's ticklish spots, the one at the center of his neck and gave him a marking bite and kiss on it.

"Are you okay, Love?" he whispered. "Have you had enough for tonight?"

Duncan tiredly nodded. "Yes, Master."

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Much later that night and in the privacy of MacLeod's loft, Methos shoved his rigid sex all the way into Duncan's hot, tight channel. He then reached around and gripped his lover's sex. In a simultaneous rhythm, both men almost immediately erupted their juices until both of them, both inside and out, were deliciously sticky with sweat and cum.

Methos waited until his rod had softened before removing it from Mac's body. He then collapsed onto him and rolled over into the circle of the exhausted Highlander's arms. Just before they dropped off to sleep, Duncan murmured, "Who's turn is it tomorrow night, Master?"

The ancient laughed and snuggled further into the heat and aroma that was Duncan MacLeod. "I'll let you know tomorrow night."

Duncan suddenly raised his disheveled head. "Do you mean you'll make me wait until tomorrow night to find out?"

"Yes, Toy, I will." Methos replied, as his hand slapped a stinging slap to Mac's butt. "Now, go to sleep, Toy."

"Yes, Master."

The End

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