The Art of Love
Slash/Het implied. Discipline delivered.
Duncan MacLeod, Cory Raines, Amanda, Tessa, and Richie Ryan all belong to Panzer, but we love them more and let them play. The gorgeous Nick Lea played the beautiful Cory Raines.
Note: There is no Monet called "The Bee King"
Archive: OK, but this has not been beta read.
Sleepily, Duncan MacLeod turned over in his vast bed and reached, finding no warm smooth ass to reward his groping hand. This was a first since he had arrived in this brave new world.
Smiling, he recalled the last quickening, hearing a voice that said, "Your heart's desire."
~~~~~~~io pan IO io pan~~~~~~~
(Obligatory Flash Back: Duncan in kilt, sporran, traditional lack of underwear and white blouse for no reason but pictorial purposes)
For all his life had been spiked by jealously and a somewhat possessive nature, it turned out that his heart was a slut. He had entered a home that an inner voice said was his. First Tessa, beautiful mortal Tessa had run up to him, a smudge of something arcane and artistic on her nose. Her voluptuous curves were tightly embraced in sweaty leather, a snugly fitting sleeveless coverall. Well, he was pleased even when he realized she now had a honey sweet immortal aura. He had been just enjoying kissing her ripe mouth when a hand patted his behind and a sexy voice purred, "About time you got here. Tessa and I were bored without you. I was about to teach her art thievery to pass the time. Sweet Alex Krycek from down the block just happened upon a list of lost artworks currently in the hands of former Nazis and their heirs. It's almost obligatory to steal them."
"Oh, don't look so stunned, my beautiful Scot. Jealousy is so passé. Tessa and I are the best of friends, aren't we, darling."
His sweet Tessa smiled in a thoroughly evil fashion and said, "Oh, yes, Amanda, we have so much in common and I'd never realized how talented your fingers were and your mouth...well."
Duncan had just decided that was a good thing when Amanda said, "Methos and Fitz are still in Tahiti, but Cory and Richie just arrived from Paris. They're in the garden."
At first, Duncan only heard the name, Richie. His lithe and toned legs covered the distance through the kitchen and out the back door, where he saw red-gold hair in curls, eyes blue as heaven, the face of a wicked cherub, and the body of Ganymede. It took him a long moment to realize that his beloved young friend was gazing up into the eyes of that scoundrel, that rogue, that ravishing succubus, Cory Raines.
Green eyes, dappled with sunlight, gleamed in his direction. A mouth, almost petulantly sweet, curved in a smile before breaking into a characteristic grin. His nutmeg and ebony colored hair shone in the summer sun.
Cory let go of Richie's hands and said, in a voice that packed the punch of twenty-year old brandy and the layered sweetness of the finest honey, "Duncan, you finally got here. We've been waiting. Haven't we, Richie?"
There wasn't an immediate answer as Richie ran up to press his heart-shaped lips to Duncan's. The Scot was so stunned that he opened his mouth further and let the questing tongue tickle enticingly around his mouth. The surprise lasted long enough to force Duncan to return the kiss. His hands roved intimately over every inch of the youth that he could reach and finally landed on the ass that Methos had once remarked would have been the subject of paeans in Greece and riots in the street in Persia. This lusciously ripe flesh Duncan kneaded and molded while Richie did his best to perform unlicensed oral surgery with his tongue.
Duncan was about to give into a lovely urge to snatch Richie up and find a bedroom; when smoothly, the boy was moved aside. "My turn," uttered Cory. But then Cory always thought it was his turn except when it came to household jobs such as doing the dishes, taking out the garbage, or digging the occasional grave.
His objection buried under a prehensile tongue that was loaded for cock teasing, Duncan felt his kilt lifted and a hand go to the heat of the matter. His objections were put aside as other hands joined the rapacious Cory's. Smothered in loving bodies, Duncan surrendered to his heart's desire, not one lover, but a harem of them.
~~~~~~~io pan IO io pan~~~~~~~
How in a house full of lovers was Duncan alone? He remembered that Tessa and Amanda were spending the day at a spa to celebrate Amanda's upcoming birthday. Still, Cory and Richie never made it up before him and he had spent the night with them. Stalking naked down the stairs, Duncan heard laughter and the two culprits tumbled in the door.
They were singing, "Mon-nay for nothing,"
For some reason, that lyric sounded slightly altered, but then Cory and Richie might be picking up French accents between their trips to France and living with Tessa. The two stopped singing when they saw Duncan. Duncan folded his arms although it was bit hard to look intimidating stark naked. He noted that Richie carried a large rectangular wrapped package. Cory had an equally large black bag. Duncan noted the end of rope dragging from the partially opened satchel. He had a bad feeling about this. Living with three supposedly reformed thieves was like sitting on a nest of red ants. It was not a question of if they would sting; it was a question of when.
First, get his feelings out. Tessa said that was good for him. She was studying psychology to do art therapy with abused children and was an endless source of such theories. Duncan pinned Richie, the easily guilt tripped with his big brown eyes and said, "You know how I hate to wake up alone. Where were you?"
"Shopping for Amanda's birthday." Richie said, a blush spreading over his fair face.
Oh, oh, Richie's complexion was a dead giveaway. Cory now had no such indicators. Guilt required knowing right from wrong and, alas, that was not ever going to be Cory's strong point. It was not that Cory had a mean bone in his body. As Amanda expressed it, he would give you the shirt off his back...Duncan shifted uneasily as he mentally added, and his shorts, his pants, and anything else he happened to be wearing. Cory was generous with his favors and very uninhibited.
"And where would ye be going shopping this early in the day? With what money?" Duncan inquired, his brogue strengthening with his irritation.
"Just picking up the present.' Cory said, a charming smile gracing his face. He sidled away stuffed the bag in the hall closet. "As for money, remember? Richie has that underwear endorsement contract."
"They paid him already?" Duncan asked.
"In shorts, they did." Cory claimed. "And, of course, we wanted to do something nice for Amanda. We've so much to celebrate, Mackie-boy."
"Don't call me Mackie-boy." Duncan said, maneuvering to look in the closet to confirm that he had seen the bag that Cory took when he was working. Of course, he was supposed to be working with his human twin, Alex ,on security consultations...
Yes, it was the bag. Richie angled through the door and briskly said, "I better wrap this."
Wrapping his body around Duncan, Cory cooed, "And I'll make it up to you for leaving you to wake alone."
Lips nibbled on his neck as Cory's hands enticingly stroked soft circles around Duncan's nipples. Cory's leather clad groin rubbed against MacLeod's until the Scot just had to pull the beauty close and massage the lovely firm ass. "I want you to take me to bed and fuck me senseless."
"Born senseless mores the likely." Duncan growled. Nay, he would not let Cory seduce him again. He had to find out what mischief Richie and Cory Hood had found now. He swatted Cory's ass and went into the dining room.
Richie never could wrap a gift without unraveling half a roll of tape. At least that much was pulled loose from the roll. Several wadded pieces of wrapping paper littered the floor. In the midst, a gorgeously golden and brown painting sat in splendor. It took only a haphazard glance to recognize the brush strokes. Duncan had seen the painting only once when it was first exhibited. It was 'The Bee King'...a painting by Monet that was lost in history, rumored destroyed after the bombing of Dresden where legend had it that the Nazis had taken it. It was the only known Monet with this theme. 'The Bee King' was an incarnation of Cupid.
Even with the impressionist style, it was clear to Duncan that Cory had posed for the painting. He held a honeycomb over his yearning mouth and only a very large bunch of grapes kept the picture remotely decent. The background was a charming collection of soft pastoral images of a late summer day. You could almost hear the bees buzzing in the hives and feel the sun on your skin. Legend had it that Monet considered this both his master piece and his shame. He refused to sell it and only had one showing. Rumor said that something had happened with the model and when Duncan had seen had met Cory later, that was very understandable.
Remembering Amanda's quip about Alex Krycek's little list, Duncan had a bad feeling. He said, "Richie, I think you had better tell me how you got this."
"It was Cory's idea." Richie said.
"Ah, the old devil didn't deserve this. Keeping it in a vault when it should be where it is appreciated." Cory remarked.
Duncan didn't yell. He didn't shout or even pick up either beauty to shake some sense into their heads. He just said, "Amanda's not going to be the only one to get a spanking on her birthday. It goes back. It's back before I return from my shower and getting dressed."
He'd already decided to confront the man who owned the painting. The Monet was stolen, but stealing it again, well, what they said about two wrongs...
~~~~~~~io pan IO io pan~~~~~~~
By the time, Cory and Richie crept back, Duncan was dressed and holding part of Tessa's latest sculpture, which was entitled "The Principal". She had acquired a genuine hack paddle from a local junior high and positioned it in the metal hand of her somewhat representative sculpture. (Realistic in other respects only if the Principal had a triangle for a head, fish-spine-like arms and legs, and an empty oblong of purple steel for a body.)
"You're joking?" Richie said, backing up to the wall and covering his shielded ass with both hands.
"You act like a witless bairn and I'll treat you like one." Duncan said. "Take you pants off, both of you."
Cory said, "Mackie-boy, I'll just go check on my hot tub now, I think."
MacLeod said, "Cory, I love you."
Emerald eyes filled with diamonds which spilled down the treasure of Cory's face. His lips quivered and he said, "No, you mean you love to screw me."
Insistently, Duncan said, "No, I mean I love you and I want you to be safe with us, not locked up in some prison. Please don't leave."
"Let you spank me?" Cory questioned, wide eyes growing wider.
"Yes, we agreed. Remember? You said if you ever made any trouble..." Duncan said.
"I didn't mean it. I thought you would just tell me to leave. I'm not anybody important to you. I thought you let me stay for Amanda and Richie's sake." Cory said.
Richie hugged his lover and said, "No, if he felt that way, he wouldn't sleep with you, Cory."
The softhearted boy said, "Come on, Cory. Look if I can do it, so can you. Duncan, spank me first."
Richie shed his jeans, his new tight black bikini underpants with the red curls spilling over the low cut garment, and his shirt. He said, "Where do you want me, Mac?"
"Over the couch." Duncan directed. Richie sighed but cooperated. His round bottom was golden, smooth, the cheeks like peaches without even the fuzz. The hollow of his spine was made for kisses. His straight back was tense with trepidation.
'Control, Duncan', he admonished himself. 'This is not for your amusement.' He gritted his teeth and took the first blow. "Ten, I think, one for each sticky finger."
It would be best to say that Richie stayed silent for the first blow because he was squealing and weeping by the fifth. Finally, Duncan took the weeping boy into his arms and rocked him gently. He said, "Richie, you know I want you to be good. You are bright, hard working, and the kindest lad I ever met. There's no reason for you to be hurt anymore. I want you to be safe. Now, I want you to go write lines, love. One hundred lines."
A tiny snicker emerged through the sobs. Richie gradually quieted and then went to sit on a cushion and pen the discipline that Duncan had assigned.
Cory hadn't fled, but he was posed at the door. He looked so frightened that Duncan was amazed. He held out his hand and said, "Cory, please. I can't let you start this. Soon the lot of you would all be in the slammer. Let me set limits for you. I know you were never taught, never loved, but trust me. Let me teach you."
The sweet mouth, made for kissing, trembled. Cory looked down, his lashes covering the green jade eyes. One hand turned the diamond earring in his lobe. The other curled in a trembling fist by his side. Cory said, "I've been hit before, but it never taught me a thing except to try harder not to get caught."
Lifting the tender and delicate chin, Duncan lovingly kissed each of Cory's quivering eyelids. "But they didna love you, Cory. I love you. I want you to be good. And happy. And safe."
"Really?" That voice, so husky, so moving in its velvet coated tones sounded as if Cory was starting to believe.
"Really." Duncan assured. "In this wonderful world without the quickenings and the challenges, we should na live in fear. That's what you'd be doing if I let you steal."
"Okay." Cory said, "I...well, you can spank me if you think it will help. Will you hold me afterwards as you did Riche?"
"For as long as you need," Duncan replied.
The riches of the world again. Cory's bottom was paler then Richie's, (The boy so loved to sunbathe in the nude.) It was no less firm, not quite so ripe, but each globe was a pearl beyond price. Duncan decided that he would persuade that old Nazi to restore the Monet to the heirs and then he would buy it, no matter what the price. That beautiful sculpture of a rear was revealed in the portrait of the Bee-King. Duncan wanted the family to have 'The Bee King' to hang upon their walls so that even when Cory was away, they could see his splendors.
It was a shame to mar this beauty, but it must be done. Cory wiggled his butt enticingly, trying to get out of the spanking at the last moment. He said, "Duncan, maybe we should just....ahhhhhhh!" "Ouch!" "Hey, Mac, not so har...arrrgh! Ow! Ow!"
The first swat only made Cory yelp harder. Duncan ignored this, knowing how dramatic Cory was. He landed a harder blow, this time gaining a large paddle shaped show of pink. He crosshatched that mark with another that shone a ruddy rose. By this time, Cory wasn't acting any more. Duncan could tell from the heart-felt sobs that devolved into choking gasps as he finished all the promised strokes.
Duncan heard, "No one loved me. Never had a family. If I stole from the rich and gave to the poor, they loved me. Now..."
"I love you. Richie loves you. Tessa and Amanda love you. Methos, Joe, and Fitz love you. I'm going to keep you safe, Cory. No more crazy schemes or chances."
It took longer for Cory to stop crying. He had centuries of hurt concealed behind his laughing exterior. Duncan rocked him, his cheek against the shining soft hair and breathing in the scent of him, like a delicate bouquet of champagne mixed with a hint of seas spray and a touch of Sherwood Forest.
When Cory stopped sobbing, Duncan helped him up and handed him his pants. Cory folded the trousers and said, "I don't think I'll be wearing any today, thank you."
Finally, Duncan brought him to the table and handed him the notepad and paper. "Write it two hundred times."
Cory's lips quivered as he wrote the first line.
"I will not steal."
His mouth firmed as he penned, "I will not involve any of the others in my schemes."
But he broke down in helpless laugher at the third, but wrote it anyway.
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
"Monet is the root of all evil."
The pun.