Wild Honey

The smoke from the fire-sticks stung their eyes and tiny red-hot embers scorched their hands, but the boys held the fragrant, green wood high to let the smoke drift over the hive. The sun was almost directly overhead and it stung their skins, but it was now that the bees were quiet, almost somnolent in the midday heat. The three of them swatted, almost negligently, at the occasional sting they received, they didn't hurt much anyway. Besides, who could mind paying the price of few little stings when the prize was so great?

Wild honey. Addictive sweetness and an adventure to gather. The village elders would be pleased with them indeed, when the boys returned with this to share. Perhaps this time when they returned the elders would not shake their heads and tsk on the tips of their tongues about 'wild little monkeys...' He hated being called that. Methos rubbed at his thin, bare leg absently as another bee that had escaped the smoking, sacrificed itself to defend the hive.

"Come on, Methos! Hold your stick up higher, the smoke's blowing the wrong way! We'll never get the honey home before dark at this rate!" Demos sounded exasperated with him -- as he often was.

"I'm holding as high as I can! It's not my fault you're taller." At thirteen summers Methos was all arms, legs and big eyes, not a child and yet far from a man. Demos, his friend for what seemed his whole life, had crossed that bridge sometime ago and liked to remind Methos of it -- often. Methos turned his attention to the third of their party, his brother. "Lan, are you ready?"

"Not yet, Methos. Wait til they're quiet--be patient," Lan answered calmly.

Methos let the steady voice wash over him, Lan might be a year younger but he was wise in a way Methos knew he would never be -- a leavening influence on the wildness in which Methos and Demos competed to outdo one another. Methos looked at his brother and smiled. "When you say then, all right?"

Lan nodded. "Give me your stick, Methos. You're the fastest climber -- you can go up the tree."

Methos handed him the fire-stick and moved to the base of the tree, waiting for his brother's signal. Lan nodded again and Methos began to climb the leaning tree, shinning easily up the smooth bark. He looked down to Lan and Demos; they had ground out the embers at the tip of the fire-sticks and laid them on the dirt. The two boys picked up the dishes they'd quickly fashioned when they found the hive, little more than cleaned slabs of bark pried from a nearby deadfall, but perfect for holding the dripping combs of the wild honey. Methos reached the part of the trunk closest to the hollow where the hive was hidden and, fingers and toes tingling with a mixture of fear and excitement, prepared to take the honey.

Methos' heart thudded in his ears as he reached into the hive for the first comb. It was warm in there, it always surprised him how warm the bees kept their little home. A part of his mind thought about why that might be, and he wondered who he could ask that would know. Perhaps his mother...Father always scowled at his 'endless questions'. It was true, he supposed, he was always curious to find out the whys and how of everything in the world and how else was he to find answers?

Methos' hand closed around the waxy stickiness of the comb and with a twist of his hand he broke it free and edged it through the hive entrance. It was heavy, dripping with dark honey. The rains had been good this year, the gods had been pleased with the offerings they had been made, so the trees had flowered and the bees had feasted and soon, so would they. Methos smiled at the circularity of that thought. Life was a circle... He passed the comb down to Demos.

Soon their wooden dishes were heavy with their sweet load, and Methos climbed down at last. He jumped the last few feet from the tree and landed lightly in front of Demos. They grinned at each other, discarding whatever ill feeling had been between them and Demos ruffled his fingers through the raven tangle of Methos' long hair.

"Come on, then. We'd best get this back home before nightfall or not even a cache of honey will save us from a beating," Demos said as he hefted a dish into position on his hip. "We still have to check the rest of the snares down by the stream too."

So they walked, and talked, as they always did, of everything and nothing, truths and lies in equal measure -- each as important as the other.

"I know who Methos will marry!" Demos threw in when the conversation inevitably turned to the subject of girls. "Liana--he pants after her like dog for a bitch..." he trailed off, chuckling lewdly.

"She is very beautiful," Lan added, in his quiet way.

Methos sighed. "She is beautiful. But she is not for me. I fear that I will wait an eternity to find the one. I dream of it sometimes and I cannot recognize the time or place. But I will know the touch of 'the one' when I feel it again."

***

Methos woke from his dream with their scornful laughter still ringing in his ears. It was rare but wonderful to recapture lost memories in this way, his dream life occasionally sent him such gifts out of the blue. Methos smiled at the thought of the thoughtfully serious young boy he had been in the dream and wondered if it had truly been a memory or simply the way that he had wished it to be. He would never know for certain, so he let it lie, accepting that it felt true and that was enough.

He rolled over and gathered Duncan into his arms, holding him closer. He stroked a hand down Duncan's arm and knew that the dream had been correct; he had known the touch of 'the one' the second he felt it. He reveled in it now; honeyed skin, as addictively sweet as that long-ago treat. Methos curled in close to taste it.

Duncan stirred as Methos nibbled at the nape of his neck. Methos tightened an arm around his lover and nuzzled the heavy fall of hair away from the spot he sought. There--right there at that small swirl of hair exactly in the middle, that was the spot that made Duncan sigh and moan when Methos nibbled at it. His teeth grazed it now, his tongue laving the little sting and Duncan let go a great breath and pressed back against him.

The plane crash that had stranded them hereon this island two weeks before had been an unexpected blessing. When else would they have had this uninterrupted time to discover each other? The island was beautiful, lush and green with no shortage of fresh water; they could live here quite happily for a very long time. Well, Methos was sure he could anyway, Duncan, he suspected, might start to worry about the welfare of his 'clan' before too long.

All of that would become academic, Methos realized, if they couldn't find suitable food to eat. The island so far had shown very little in the way of recognizable food. Until now they'd been living of scavenged supplies from the wreck. Now they were almost at an end. Still, it was a big island and neither of them were strangers to living off the land.

Shelving that problem to the 'later' pile in his mind, Methos turned his attention back to Duncan. He could go a great deal longer without having fresh food than he could go without having Duncan. Besides it was a long time until dawn, what else were they to do?

Finally Methos felt the wakefulness come back into his lover's body. "At last..." he admonished, with the lazy grin on his face flavoring his voice. "Gods, you can sleep."

Duncan rolled over to face him. "Got a problem there?" he asked with sleepy adoration marking his features.

"Yes," Methos answered in mock-exasperation. "I want you and you're sleeping," he explained as if it should be excruciatingly obvious to all concerned.

"How dare I? In the middle of the night?" Duncan teased, wriggling closer. "That better?"

"Hmmm...let me see..." Methos pushed aside the ragged length of cloth Duncan had covered himself with against the cool tropical breeze, and let his fingers trace delicate trails over sensitive flesh. "Definitely getting better."

It was about then that Duncan pounced. Methos was pushed flat on his back onto the ground by a six-foot length of horny Scot and before he could make a sound (and whatever sound it was it would not be one of protest) Duncan had his mouth latched onto Methos' cock and was sucking on it voraciously.

"MacLeod!" Methos exclaimed as he had so many times, in that combination of exasperation and outrage he did so naturally. "Slow down...it's not a race." Methos added more gently as he parted his thighs a little to let Duncan lie between them. Duncan slowed his frantic suckling and his head moved in slow easy nods now. "Ahhhh...yes, just like that." Bone-meltingly good...

Then Duncan slid his mouth up so that it only covered the crown of Methos' shaft and he wrapped a large hand around the base, stroking it firmly. The tip of Duncan's tongue teased at the underside of the crown and Methos fought the urge to thrust into the heat that enveloped him. Methos rolled up a little from the sand, propping up on his elbows so he could see everything Duncan did. Warm brown eyes flicked up to meet his, held, then closed in an expression of pure rapture as Duncan sank his mouth down to completely enclose Methos again.

"Oh...yes..." Methos groaned as Duncan sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks, maintaining the easy rhythm. It was incredible, this heat, this desire he felt every time he even looked at Duncan. Having his touch right where he needed it was better than Methos had ever anticipated.

A helpless, wordless moan made his head drop back as Duncan's finger slid smoothly into Methos' ass. Still too quick, he was going to come too soon...but he couldn't tell Duncan to stop -- to slow down -- the sensations were too good to deny himself.

Then Duncan was making small noises, rumbling little sounds like appreciation and a little more became too much. Methos let go of whatever controls he had on himself and just threw himself into the moment, come what may. His hips were moving, undulating beneath Duncan, into him. Methos felt his lover take him deep into his mouth -- almost to the throat -- tongue darting and swirling in counterpoint.

Methos felt the prickling, tickling sensation of every blood vessel in his body opening, dilating, and making his skin flush red. His body tensed, drawing tight until it was almost pain. Then Duncan made a desperate, needy little noise in the back of his throat and Methos was lost.

Methos sagged back onto the sand and came. Wave upon wave of orgasm rippled through him, each more devastating than the last. Duncan's mouth didn't leave Methos for a second and through the haze of his climax Methos could feel the steady pull of his lover's swallows. Fucking incredible. The last spasm left Methos' body and at last Duncan slid his mouth away from Methos' cock.

Methos could feel the quick feathering breaths Duncan took as he leaned his cheek against Methos' hip, and he reached his hand down to stroke Duncan's hair. "C'mere," Methos murmured, guiding his lover up to lie beside him. He needed Duncan near him still -- had a sudden strong urge to hold him close until the world found balance again.

Duncan slithered up along Methos' body until they were face to face again. He grinned, Cheshire cat style as he looked into to Methos' eyes. "Fast learner, aren't I?" he asked in a low, honeyed tone that made Methos' heart thud out of time.

Methos couldn't find it in himself to tease in return, his brain was too fried for anything but simple honesty. "Mac, you're incredible," he breathed, cupping Duncan's cheek and brushing his thumb along the cheekbone. "Come here and let me take care of you now."

Duncan grinned again, this time with that endearingly quick dip of his eyelashes that always meant he was a little embarrassed. "A little late for that. Methos, you don't know what you do to me when you fly apart like that, the sounds you make, and the feel of you in my mouth and, Christ, Methos, you taste so good. I just can't make myself hold back around you -- not when letting go feels so good."

Duncan relaxed back into Methos' arms so that his head lay on his lover's shoulder and before long Methos recognized the rhythmic breathing that meant Duncan was asleep -- again. Methos folded his arms loosely around Duncan's back and, pulling the makeshift sheet over them both, slowly drifted back to sleep.

***

"What do you think? Are these ones edible? They smell pretty bad." Methos took another sniff and held the fruit up for Duncan to inspect. Duncan wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Methos nodded his agreement and tossed the fruit aside.

They'd set out early that morning to scout around 'their' island for likely sources of food. For all the lush greenery of the place there wasn't a lot either of them recognized as food. A few plants here and there that each of them had struck before on their travels but only a few. Still between that and the fish that abounded around the reef that sheltered 'their' beach, at least they wouldn't starve.

"No coconut cream pies for us, hey, Gilligan?" Methos joked as they followed the bank of the creek that wound through the center of the island.

Duncan stopped, turned and looked at Methos as if 'island fever' had already set in. "What? What did you call me?"

"Never mind. Pop culture reference. The nineteen seventies. You had to be there." Methos ignored Duncan's raised eyebrow and slipped between a tumble of boulders to see what lay beyond.

"Sure you haven't been out in the sun too long, old man?" Duncan muttered behind him.

The sarcastic reply was on the tip of Methos' tongue when the sight before him stole his breath. The creek fell away, meandering down the hillside, forming small pools linked by tiny waterfalls, jewels in a sun-sparkled necklace.

"Wow." Duncan said nothing more as he came to stand close behind Methos, wrapping his arms loosely around Methos' waist, and leaning his chin on Methos' shoulder.

"The things you find, huh. Fancy a swim? No sand to get in all those inconvenient places."

Duncan stepped around Methos and shucked the length of fabric he had taken to wearing swathed pareo-style around his hips, ran and dived, graceful as an otter into the nearest pool. Seconds later he re-emerged, water sheeting from him, grinning wickedly. "It's wonderful. Come on in!"

Duncan dived back under the water and Methos saw the lovely roundness of his lover's ass disappear into the darkness of the pool. He didn't need to be hit over the head. His shorts were tossed aside as quickly as he could -- his dagger in its sheath clanging a little on the rock -- and Methos followed the younger man into the water.

It was wonderful. The water was cool and silky over his skin, softer somehow than the warm seawater. The pool was deep too; Methos dived beneath it, kicking strongly until he felt the pressure increase against his eardrums but still he could not touch bottom. It was cold down there too, and dark as a cave. Discomfited, Methos shot up towards the light, seeing Duncan silhouetted above him.

Methos folded his lover into his arms as he breached the surface of the pool -- gasping. They slithered around and against and through each other, slippery and eel-like in the water. Then Methos wrapped his arms around him from behind; his skin felt so different in the water, softer even than velvet under his fingertips. Methos pulled Duncan close, long, pale hands rubbing over the expanse of the Scot's chest, then together they swam to the waist-deep shallows at the water's edge.

Methos felt Duncan melt into him, molding himself to the contours of Methos' body as Methos crowded him up against the warm, smooth rocks. Methos bent his head to taste the skin at the crook of his lover's neck, licking the drops of water, chasing them down his shoulder. Impossible to ever have enough of that taste. Passion caught in a heartbeat.

Then Methos slid his hand down the front of Duncan's body, over the ridges of his muscles to his cock. He was hard and hot -- impossibly hot compared to the pool. He moaned as Methos touched him lightly and he began to undulate in the water. His movements made his ass brush across Methos' cock -- he shivered and held Duncan closer.

Methos closed his hand around him and start to stroke, just a little and Duncan thrust into his lover's hand quickly. For a few long minutes Methos let him. Meanwhile Methos' other hand was slipping up the length of Duncan's throat to his jaw, turning his face so Methos could reach his beautiful mouth. He kissed it, tracing its curves with the tip of his tongue, before he pushed inside it. Duncan's teeth pressed lightly into Methos' tongue and he shuddered deeply.

He needed more. Desire was ripping through Methos' body, tearing at his self-control and he pressed Duncan more firmly, bending him over a waist high boulder at the very edge of the pool. Methos could feel the tension spreading through his lover's body as he ran needy hands over the muscled planes. Duncan shook as Methos arranged him on the rock.

"God, Methos. Please, don't tease me."

Methos pushed and prodded at his lover's body until finally it was arranged to his liking -- bent over almost double, lower legs still in the water, spread wide, arms propping up his torso. Duncan arched his neck, lifting his head high to look over his shoulder at Methos, giving him unmistakable look of invitation that Methos felt it all the way to his cock.

Methos stood back to appreciate the picture his lover made. Long hair, made glossy black by the water, spread over his shoulders, springing up into a curl here and there as the wind dried it. The broad, dark vee of his back was starlit with silver droplets of water that trickled random trails down the outlines of muscles. And his ass. Methos couldn't look at it without his hands starting to shake with need. He needed so desperately to be inside that beautiful body, yet still he waited.

Methos ran his hands over the smooth back slowly, letting his fingers luxuriate in the silken velvet texture. He bent over Duncan to press his mouth to the golden skin, following the water skittering down towards the deep valley of his ass. Methos squatted in the cool water until little wavelets lapped around his chest and kissed, just at the top of the deep cleft.

Duncan moaned and moved his feet further apart.

"Slut."

"Yes." Duncan's voice was graveled lust, low and demanding. "Do it."

Methos' hands spread Duncan's cheeks apart, feeling him tremble in anticipation, his head arching back. He slipped his mouth lower and pressed it to Duncan's opening. His low answering moan slid through Methos and slithered up his spine. Methos held himself back with difficulty. Not yet... He tilted his head to one side and let his teeth graze lazily over the firm muscle of Duncan's butt.

"Unfair, Methos," Duncan rasped in reply.

Methos kissed his way back to the puckered opening that flared and relaxed even as he breathed on it. Then he slipped his tongue into Duncan at last. Duncan bucked under Methos' mouth and was held firm by strong hands. A few more strokes of Methos' tongue and he was calling out, desperate and heedless, as he writhed in the water.

"Now! Oh god, Methos. Now!"

Methos rimmed him more deeply and the trembling turned into bone deep shudders. Sweat poured from his skin, despite the coolness of the water and Methos could taste the salt. Twisting and thrashing now, he moaned Methos' name over and over--pleading. Methos teased him a little longer, tickling his tongue across the wrinkled surface.

The next thing Methos knew for sure was that he'd been pounced on again. 'Damn. How does he do that?' Methos wondered hazily. Suddenly he'd gone from the one in charge to being the one flat on his back. He was lying in the sun-warmed shallows with Duncan straddling him and he looked hungry enough to be dangerous.

"I. Said. Now."

Apparently Duncan was taking this assertiveness thing right out there as far as it would go, Methos thought. That was just fine with him. Although...

Duncan held Methos' cock upright, poised it at his entrance and then, without warning, sank down with his full weight, burying Methos deep inside him.

Too much enthusiasm could be a bad thing.

Methos winced at the pain that contorted his lover's face as Duncan's body was stretched quickly to accommodate the thick shaft. Duncan hissed and threw his head back, panting. Methos bent his legs for leverage and sat up, pulling Duncan into an embrace.

"Mac? Are you all right?" Methos stroked his hands down Duncan's back, feeling him shudder. "Mac? Talk to me." Duncan was gasping and wriggling in Methos lap, making low, incoherent sounds.

"God, Methos...you're so deep. I can feel your heart beating inside me."

Methos let go a relieved breath. "Scare me next time, why don't you? I thought you were hurt." Methos' words were getting harder to pronounce as the sensation of being inside Duncan built to almost unbearable levels. Duncan wriggled a little more.

"I was for a second, but now..." Duncan lifted himself off Methos a little, rising and falling, picking up speed. "Feels so good..."

"You need to go slow." 'At least to start with,' Methos added in his head.

"Like this?" Duncan slowed his movements to a tortuously paced rhythm.

Methos leaned his head against Duncan's shoulder and tried to hang on a little longer. Almost impossible, he thought, the water wasn't much of a lubricant and the friction of his cock moving inside Duncan's so-very-tight body was enough to shred what remained of his self-control.

"Yes," he managed in a sandpapered whisper. "Something like that..."

"Too slow," Duncan murmured, picking up the pace again. "Love to feel you move inside me..." He was rocking now, his rhythm carrying Methos far beyond anything as banal as arousal.

Methos wanted to tell him how incredibly good it felt to actually be inside him, holding him this close, making love to him, but the words wouldn't come. It seemed as if every drop of blood in his body was being concentrated in his cock, and it made him light-headed and dizzy.

"Move with me, Methos." The honeyed need was back in Duncan's voice, dark and compelling.

"Gods, Mac," Methos whispered. He slid his hands down to Duncan's hips, holding them firm, changing the rhythm and the direction until instead of rocking against Methos, Duncan was moving with him. Now their hips were making small circular movements and Methos could see the change in his lover's face as Methos' cock stroked over the prostate with each rotation. Duncan's eyes opened wide, fixed on Methos' and held.

He could not look away. The force of those huge, dark eyes devouring him was too hypnotic for Methos to resist. They fell into each other -- worlds within worlds and time without end. And though the sun fingered through the trees and the water lapped around them and the shade-cooled breeze stroked over their skins, nothing penetrated the moment.

Every circling motion took them closer and closer to the end and Methos could feel his orgasm building on the horizon of his senses. Duncan was close too; he could see it in the younger man's face as they gazed into one another's eyes. The motion of their hips never altered, it only kept a steady, ceaseless rhythm. Duncan's hands tightened on Methos' shoulders and his breathing grew ragged and quick.

And then with a tattered, wondering whisper of "Methos!" Duncan came. Aside from that first desperate murmur Duncan made no other sound. He was turning in on himself -- Methos could see it -- totally lost in the sensation of the experience.

Methos needed nothing more to send him into his own climax than that first spasm of Duncan's flesh around his. He came hard, so hard that the world grayed at the edges for a moment. Duncan held him very tight and, with their eyes still firmly locked, tilted their foreheads together until they touched.

It was strange but just that small contact -- face to face -- despite their bodies being as close as they could possibly be, seemed so very intimate that Methos almost broke the eye contact and looked away. Methos felt that look reaching deep inside himself and opening up something he had thought long closed over. And once it was open it was as if there was light shining on all the dark places in his soul.

Then the words came tumbling out, no longer trapped by the darkness. "I love you, Duncan," Methos' mouth went dry at the immensity of the risk he'd just stumbled through.

Duncan smiled, lazy satisfaction sighing out between his words. "I knew that. I've loved you my whole life -- maybe even before that. God, you're beautiful when you get that worried look." Duncan brushed his thumb over the tense line of Methos' brow. "I love you too, Methos."

There was nothing for it but to kiss him.

***

A long time later, when they were at last done with one another, they lay drying themselves on sun-warmed rocks. Methos slept. Duncan rolled up to lean on his elbow to look into the face of the man who was his lover. Methos. Had he known all these years, as Duncan had known? The complete lack of wonder he had felt at their first meeting had been no surprise to Duncan. It was almost deja vu he felt; it was fated -- inevitable. He'd dreamed that moment so many times without knowing its meaning. Now he knew.

This man who'd lived through millennia, who'd survived everything -- good and bad -- the world had thrown at him, was The One. From the first he'd known Methos was the one who should take the Prize, though at times he'd come to doubt it, but now Duncan knew Methos was The One on another level all together. He was The One he'd waited for all his life -- the missing piece to his soul. Someone to be a lover, an equal, a friend, all that they had been to one another and all they had yet to be. It was right and real and utterly terrifying.

Terrifying to have so much invested in just one man when he'd already lost so many. Duncan felt the dizzying panic of vertigo as he looked down at Methos' sleeping face. He couldn't lose him now -- not to something as stupid as the unending hunt for heads. So perhaps it was not such a bad thing that they were stuck here on this island, at least here alone the Game could go on without them and Methos would be safe.

Yes. The world would just have to get along without Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod for a while.

***

Duncan woke in his lover's arms for the second time that day. He hadn't slept long -- not judging from the angle of the sun in the sky. He lay still for a moment, enjoying the feeling of having Methos pressed close along his body. Duncan gathered the creamy-skinned beauty that was his lover more tightly into his arms -- a little unbidden dart of joy thrilling along his spine. Yet the joy, as always, came shadowed with a mirror image of fear. Nothing this perfect could possibly last.

Let alone grow. Yet that was just what it did, the very next moment. Methos stirred and woke and looked into Duncan's face smiling with a look of such unalloyed happiness that it swelled the joy within him, making what it had been before feel small in comparison. Duncan smiled back, his heart too full for words.

Finally Methos lifted his face to Duncan's and kissed him -- short and sweet and completely perfect. Then before Duncan knew it, Methos was standing before him extending a hand to help him up and Duncan took it and rose to stand next to him. He kept hold of the hand when Methos would have walked away and lifted his other hand to brush a few grains of sand from Methos' cheek.

"Do you know?" Duncan asked softly, believing that Methos did.

"Oh yes...I think I do. But do you?" Methos whispered, mirroring the gesture, touching a gentle hand to Duncan's face.

Duncan turned his face towards his lover's hand and pressed a kiss into the palm by way of an answer. Once in a very great while, life was kind.

***

As Methos walked away from the pool where so little had been said and so much revealed, he knew that something had changed between them in that brief time. Methos smiled to himself and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Food. Ahh...yes that was it. Finding food.

A dry scrape like leaves brushing against a wall made Methos look up and sure enough a large python was moving lazily from one disappearing patch of sunlight to another in the boughs of an ancient, rainforest giant. Muscles rippled beneath the shimmering, rainbow skin, propelling it with effortless grace.

"Think you could eat him?" he asked Duncan with a grin.

"I've had worse."

"Haven't we all? Snake's not too bad actually."

"I know," Duncan interrupted, "it tastes like chicken," he trailed off laughing.

"Doesn't everything?"

"Crocodile?"

"Chicken!"

"Monkey?"

"Chicken!"

"Turtle?"

"Chicken!"

"Widjuti grub?"

"Chicken!"

"No seriously."

"All right it tastes like chicken would taste if it was packaged in a nasty little white worm..." Methos shuddered at the memory.

"I've never seen you turned up your nose at the worm in the tequila," Duncan teased.

"When I get down to the worm I'm ready to eat anything," Methos shot back with a quick, careless laugh.

Suddenly serious Duncan stopped in the middle of the track and turned to him. "Do you miss it? Civilization? Being able to walk to Joe's and order a drink? Things like that?"

Methos thought for moment. "I don't think I do. I might someday -- but right now? I'm happy just to be here with you, corny as that sounds. What about you? Do you miss them?" Damn! Now he'll brood as inevitably as tides and moon.

Or not.

Duncan turned to him and smiled -- all warmth and pleasure and white flashing teeth -- and Methos felt that smile knifing through every defense he'd ever constructed. "There's nowhere else for me but with you, Methos. You know that." And Duncan walked on as if he hadn't just knocked the wind right out of Methos' body.

Well, damn. Nothing like surprises to keep life interesting and Duncan was certainly full of them today.

He walked on in silence with Duncan through the mulch-scented rainforest, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, beside him where the way allowed. The forest was dark and damp, ancient beyond time and knowledge. Methos knew a place such as this had to predate even him. It seemed right that it was a place such as this that had become their sanctuary -- a place so old even he was dwarfed by it.

It was odd to feel young. Almost unsettling-- almost. Perhaps, Methos thought as he passed plants that had not changed since the time of the dinosaurs, perhaps that was what his dream was about. He could be young here, in this old place; he could let the years fall away and just be. They both could.

Impulsively, Methos grabbed Duncan around the waist and spun him around, kissing him noisily.

"What was that for?" Duncan smiled as he finally broke for air.

"Because I can."

"Good reason." So Duncan kissed him back.

***

As the sun melted into the horizon in more shades of rose and gold and purple than any language had names for, Duncan watched his lover fishing. The tide was turning and the sea was rushing out over the coral reef. Methos stood in the shallows, poised on one leg with a fishing spear held high ready to strike. They'd been experimenting with making one in the weeks since the crash and it seemed at last they'd found a design that worked, one that both speared the fish cleanly and held on after it was caught.

As Duncan sat on the beach cleaning and gutting the first of their catch, he watched Methos and loved. Methos was backlit by the setting sun, it caught the reddish lights in his hair and turned them to flame and warmed the ivory tone of his slender body to palest gold. His face, when he turned it towards Duncan, was shadowed -- but he could still catch the white flash of teeth as Methos smiled at him. Duncan returned the smile without reservation. He is so beautiful.

He could love without reservation here, Duncan found. Here in splendid isolation he was free to love without the fear that had been his unwelcome companion for almost his whole life. When had he last felt this free? If he ever had it was so long ago he couldn't remember it now. Maybe when he was a boy.

There! If Duncan had blinked he would have missed it. In a split second Methos had struck and landed a big one this time. The brightly colored reef fish flopped about uncoordinatedly on the tip of the spear and Methos held it aloft awkwardly, shooting a triumphant grin in Duncan's direction. Duncan laid aside the scaled and gutted fish on a palm leaf, stood and walked towards his lover.

"Dinner!" Methos shouted across the water, boyish excitement ringing in his voice.

"Another big one!" Duncan answered. "We'll eat well tonight."

Duncan walked beside Methos up to where he'd been working on the catch, in the shade of a pandanus tree. He sank to the sand. There was a loud cracking sound as Methos snapped his catch against the tree trunk, killing the fish cleanly. Then Methos settled down on the sand beside Duncan and picked up the knife, deftly cleaning his catch.

"You know you looked about twelve when you were out there before," Duncan began.

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, I kept expecting you to turn handsprings in the water when you brought that one in."

"Maybe I still will," Methos teased. "I can you know."

"See? A boy yet."

Methos gave a small chuckle but his eyes remained serious. "It's odd but I feel young here. Like this is reality and all the rest of my life was just a dream. Silly I know."

Duncan leaned across and kissed him -- just the briefest brushing caress -- because everything inside him was welling up so fast it needed to go somewhere. "Not silly at all."

They let the moment drift away on the warm tropical breeze. There was time.

Methos moved first. "Come on, we'd better get this lot taken care of or we'll be eating at midnight."

"I'll get the fire going then," Duncan offered as he stood.

Methos smirked, "You always get my fire going, Highlander."

Duncan groaned at the pun and stuck out his tongue.

"My, that was mature," Methos threw back, laughing.

"All part of my charm," Duncan returned with a low bow. He was still laughing when he arranged the tinder to start the fire.

***

Methos smiled as he watched Duncan go. This truly was a magic place for them; they could relax here like nowhere else. He'd never seen Duncan so relaxed and carefree. If they were really lucky it would be a very long time before anyone thought to look for them here. Methos finished scaling the fish, walked down to the water's edge and washed it in the sea, then placed it beside the other on the palm leaf. Gathering up their dinner, Methos went to join his lover.

Mac greeted him with a brilliantly beautiful grin when Methos approached the small clearing where they'd made their fires since the crash. The ground was harder here, more dirt than sand and they'd arranged a circle of smooth stones to contain the flames. A few pieces of scavenged fuselage served as a grill, but these were set aside while Duncan built the fire up.

Methos laid the fish aside and sat down beside Duncan to wait for the leaping flames to die down to the hot coals that were the best for cooking. Duncan was pulling apart a large, many-lobed fruit as he watched the flames dance.

"I think the breadfruit are finally ripe," Duncan said, passing him a section of the fruit.

The flesh inside was pale and moist; it smelled sweet so Methos tasted it. It was vaguely familiar, not great -- but not so bad he wouldn't eat it either. He popped the rest in his mouth and ate it. "Yeah it's ripe I guess," Methos answered as he swallowed. "Not mango, but edible."

"We would have had to have crashed the plane a lot closer to South America to find mango trees, Methos."

"Well that was exceedingly poor planning on our parts, don't you think? Next time our plane goes down we should definitely think about things like that." Methos smirked and snorted at his own joke.

"Maybe we should just arrange to crash somewhere with a Club Med," Duncan suggested, getting into the silliness of the conversation.

"What -- and miss all this solitude?"

Duncan's smile evolved from silly to sensual in a heartbeat. "You feel it too? I thought maybe it was just me. I love that it's just us here. I love having you all to myself. Honestly, Methos, I don't care if they never find us."

"And you don't think you'll get sick of me? Say after a hundred years or so?" Methos turned his head to look Duncan directly in the eyes, sensing that something important was about to pass between them.

Duncan met him without faltering. "Not after a thousand years. How could I sicken of the other half of my soul?"

Damn. He's done it again. Pounced on my heart this time. Methos slid closer to his lover. "A thousand years is a very long time, Duncan," he murmured as he leaned in closer still.

"I wouldn't know," Duncan breathed. "Why don't you show me?"

There was nothing for it but to kiss him.

**The End**

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Wild Honey

In the days
When we were swinging from the trees
I was a monkey
Stealing honey from a swarm of bees
I could taste
I could taste you even then
And I would chase you down the wind

You could go there if you please
Wild honey
And if you go there, go with me
Wild honey

Did I know you?
Did I know you even then?
Before the clocks kept time
Before the world was made

From the cruel sun
You were shelter
You were my shelter and my shade

If you go there with me
Wild honey
You can do just what you please
Wild honey
Yeah, just blowing in the breeze
Wild honey
Wild, wild, wild...

I'm still standing, I'm still standing
Where you left me
Are you still growing wild
With everything tame around you?

I send you flowers
Cut flowers for your hall
I know your garden's full
But is there sweetness at all?

Oh, oh, oh...

If you go there with me
Wild honey
Won't you take me, take me please
Wild honey
Yeah, swinging through the trees
Wild honey
Wild, wild, wild...

Bono, U2.