Once an Immortal I
Bang, You're Dead!

Angyl, Orithain and Rina

July 2001

Disclaimers: Highlander and all its characters belong to Rysher Panzer-Davis, and Vic, Mac and all things Once a Thief belong to Alliance-Atlantis. Unfortunately, we aren't either of those entities, but we still have fun with the guys. No profit is being made.


That was the first thing that registered. Close on it was the feeling of excruciating heat. That was followed by the smell of burning wood and... flesh. That got Mac Ramsey's attention like nothing else could.

Bolting upright, he groaned as every single part of him screamed in agony. All around him the warehouse burned. He remembered... Michael. Going back in for Pucci, Li Ann and Vic racing inside, Vic screaming out his name. Vic. Oh God... "VICTOR!!!!"

Stumbling to his feet, the younger man ignored the burning wood, falling timbers and general chaos and devastation to find his partner. What he found was Li Ann. Or at least the body that used to house her spirit. "Mei Mei," {Younger Sister}, he moaned before turning his head to the side and losing what little contents his stomach held, dry sobs of tears that wouldn't fall wracking his lanky frame.

A groan from nearby had him on his feet in a heartbeat. "Vic! Victor, answer me. C'mon, you big dork!" he begged desperately, trying to pinpoint the sound. Another groan came from under a pile of smoldering beams. "Impossible, there's no way he could be alive..." Mac whispered in stunned disbelief. And yet the beams shifted, and Vic somehow crawled out from beneath them, a shard of wood imbedded in his side.

Collapsing, the older man looked dazedly up at him. "Mac?" he croaked out and then was still. "No. Nonononono," Mac begged as he staggered to his partner's side. "You can't die. Not now, not before I tell you. Dammit, Mansfield, you were supposed to let me tell you I love you," he screamed in a smoke-choked voice. Gently cradling the older man's head in his lap, Mac looked around at the devastation that was his life and wondered why he was the only one to survive.

Bending he gently kissed the lips of a man he'd come to admire, respect, and god help him, love with such a burning intensity it was painful. "You weren't supposed to leave me, Vic," he choked as he pulled the wood fragment free. And watched at Vic's body jumped as if he'd been defibbed. The older man's chest began to rise, and a soft, thready moan whispered across Mac's... newly healed flesh. But there had been third degree burns there not five minutes ago...

Mac watched as the gaping hole left by the wood healed right before his eyes, leaving Vic's flesh whole and unscarred once more. "Jesus Christ - what is going on here?" Sirens alerted him to the fact that they were about to get visitors. If he couldn't figure out how he and Vic had miraculously survived, there was a good chance that they couldn't either.

Mac was suddenly very leery about being found here. Last thing he wanted was for him and Vic to end up as Agency experi... The Droogs. The Agency had created the Droogs. Soon after Vic and Mac had been called in for 'vaccinations'. Could it be linked?

Shaking his head, Mac heeded that little voice of his that told him when it was time to cut and run. It was screaming enough to break the sound barrier right now. Hauling Vic up, Mac swung the shorter man over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and, with one last tearful glance at their former love, picked his way out of the building, hot wired a car and got him and Vic the hell out of Dodge.

A small jolt caused Victor to shift position, and he groaned, feeling as if the Director had chosen him for her punching bag of the day or if he and Mac had one of their infamous go-rounds - not that that had happened in a while. Matter of fact, he actually found himself enjoying the other man's company more often than not and... Another bump rolled the ex-cop half off the car seat, and his eyes flew open - what the hell? Last thing he remembered was the warehouse, Mac and the bomb... and the explosion.

"Jesus!" The sharp inhalation Vic took filled his nostrils with the smell of blood and smoke, and he pushed himself upright, reaching for his gun at the same time, prepared to use it if necessary. "Mac..." he gaped helplessly, leaning between the front seats and staring at his partner, taking in the charred clothing and bloodstains that marked him. It looked like the younger man should be in the hospital, but he acted like nothing was wrong... until he turned to meet Vic's eyes anyway.

Suddenly conscious of an absence in the car, Vic slid his gun into the holster at the small of his back, swallowing hard before he asked the question he dreaded the answer to. "Li Ann?" Mac's sorrowful look confirmed what he already knew, and Vic felt the shock of grief twist in his guts. He lowered his head into his hands, then stared at the blood that covered them. The clinging wetness of his shirt pulled the ex-cop's gaze downward, and he drew his shirt out from his torso. The fabric was drenched in blood, and a handspan wide hole was ripped in the side of the cloth - but there wasn't a mark on his skin underneath it.

Okay, think, Mansfield. There has to be some explanation for all this. Only problem was he couldn't think of a single one right now. Turning his attention back to Mac, Vic stretched out a hand and fingered the charred silk of the younger man's shirt, reaching past it to feel that Mac's skin was as unblemished as his own. Swallowing at the bile that rose in the back of his throat, Vic caught his partner's gaze in the rear view mirror. The ex-thief's dark eyes were shadowed, holding nothing of the light-heartedness normally found there.

"Let's find somewhere to clean up, then I think we have a lot to talk about," Vic said, his voice hoarse and raspy from the smoke but seeming to clear even as he spoke.

The motel may have been just this side of a flophouse, but the water was hot and plentiful. After showering and washing the blood and grime out of his clothes as best he could, Vic draped his jeans and the remains of his shirt across one of the towel bars and walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Your turn, Mac. Mac?" The younger man was sitting on the bed, staring into space as if in a daze, one that he came out of only when Vic rested his hand on Mac's shoulder.

Mac acted before he thought, his instincts still on a killing edge. Vic was flipped and pinned underneath him, a thumb at one of the more dangerous pulse points on a human body before Mac realized what he was doing.

"Jesus. Vic, I'm sorry, God," Mac breathed out softly as he took in the older man beneath him. The freshly washed, clean smelling, very much alive, older man beneath him. A man that he'd come to want very badly - and one whose erection was pressing into his stomach even as he blushed bright red.

"Is that a gun in your towel, Vic, or are you just happy to see me?" Mac quipped before lowering his head and claiming the older man's for a passion laced kiss.

The soul-snatching kiss was definitely at odds with the deep flush that stained his face, and once Vic's adrenaline rush shifted from defense to other things, he decided that the kiss won out over the blush as far as reactions went.

Waiting until Mac's lush lips stopped trying to devour his mouth, Vic pulled one hand from the other man's hair, eyed him in challenge, arched his hips enough to get some of the pressure off them, and dragged the towel out from between them. "Why don't you frisk me and see?" he offered, his fingers now busy with the buttons on Mac's shirt. This may have been the primal need to prove he was alive after a near death experience or something else, but for once Vic didn't try to analyze it; he just went with what he wanted, and that was Mac.

Mac stared down at the older man in shocked delight, then hastily ripped the remainders of his charred shirt off and slid the pants down over his hips, toeing off his shoes and kicking the offending clothing off. "Vic, God, you're..." beautiful, the younger man thought to himself as he looked down at the flushed and already hard body beneath him. A work of art, Michaelangelo's David. "Why haven't I seen you before?" the younger man wondered out loud, not realizing he'd spoken. In the back of his mind there was this new, comforting presence, and somehow Mac just knew it was Vic.

"I think I've wanted you from the moment I met you, and never even knew it," the ex-thief sighed as he ran elegantly tapered fingers from Vic's stomach, up over his chest - making sure to catch the tender pink pebbles of the ex-cop's nipples between spread fingers - and finally up a perfect neck to cradle Vic's gorgeous face. Leaning in, Mac brushed his lips once, twice and yet again across the older man's. Soft butterfly kisses meant to tease and coax those bee-stung lips open for a more thorough plundering.

"I want to taste you everywhere, Vic. Savor you inch by inch. I want to know all your secrets. What makes you shiver and what makes you jump. The spots that make you moan and sigh, and the places that make you howl with need. I want it all. I... God," Mac moaned as his eyes were drawn to the bobbing of the older man's Adam's apple as he swallowed in reaction. It was too much for the ex-thief. Growling low in his throat, he bent and latched onto the dancing flesh, nipping and laving at the flesh until a bright red passion mark stood out.

"Need you, Vic, so fucking much," he gasped when he finally came up for air, eyes glittering like dark jewels.

"Jesus Mac... God..." The older man panted, driven close to the edge by the touch of Mac's skillful hands and the rasped out words that escaped his lush, pouty lips. The feel of Mac's erection brushing against his own was enough to make him crazy, and Vic's fingers dug into the other man's back, kneading the long muscles before roaming downward to cup the tight ass that fit his palms perfectly.

"Need you too, baby," he whispered, amazed at just how much the cocky ex-thief meant to him. Li Ann... Vic's eyes clouded for a split second, then he pushed the memory aside, promising himself that nothing was going to happen to Mac - ever. In a quick move, he rolled them both over and straddled the younger man, savaging his mouth while his hands traced and plucked at the crinkly, soft hair covering Mac's chest. "So fucking gorgeous... " One hand traced lower still to frame and stroke the swollen flesh of Mac's erection. Wetting his fingers with the clear liquid spilling from the flared head, Vic brought them to his mouth, moaning as he suckled Mac's essence from his skin.

"Gotta have more..." Before Mac could move or protest, Vic was turned and had his face buried in the younger man's crotch, laving and suckling the hard flesh as if his life depended on it. A strange tingling distracted the ex-cop for a moment, but, since Mac had grabbed his ass and was going after his cock in a frenzy, Vic put it down to the explosive lust that was careening through him.

Mac felt something akin to a mild electrical jolt run through his body. Damn, if he'd known that giving Vic head would do that to him, he'd have tried it a lot sooner. Grinning at the thought that they'd end up setting the room on fire at this rate, Mac dove in, so to speak, and enjoyed the fray.

Wrapping lips and tongue firmly around the thick expanse of cock in his mouth, Mac set out to blow Vic's mind. He wanted to taste the older man so desperately, to feel the bitter salt slide of Vic's come as it ran down his throat.

Relaxing his throat muscles, Mac began to sink deeper and deeper onto the lush cock, humming happily as the salty flesh filled his mouth. His hands grasped a perfectly formed ass, pulling the ex-cop more firmly to him. Long, elegant fingers insinuated themselves in the crevice of Victor's ass, brushing lightly against the older man's anus, making him leap and buck in Mac's mouth.

Letting Vic's erection pop free, Mac withdrew a hand and licked his index finger before sliding it back between the warm cheeks and gently breaching the tight ring of muscle. Vic's whine of pleasure reverberated through his already tortured cock as the older man continued to nurse on his shaft.

"Oh yeah, fuck, Vic, you are so hot!" Mac groaned as he felt his balls draw up closer to his body. He was so close to coming it wasn't funny. He needed something in his mouth, or he was gonna scream any second now, and he had the perfect pacifier at his disposal. Latching onto Vic's cock, Mac began to nurse with a steady suction, his finger moving in tandem with his head, so that it was almost like Vic was being sucked and fucked by two people. So close... God he was so close...

Connor MacLeod had been minding his own business, walking through one of the seedier parts of Toronto after a battle with another Immortal, when he felt the buzz in his head that warned him that another of his kind was nearby. He frowned, not wanting to take another quickening before the last had had a chance to settle, but he followed the sensation, unwilling to leave an unknown Immortal at his back. He found himself at the doorway to a motel room, and he kicked it in, wanting surprise on his side.

Surprise, he decided, didn't begin to describe the expression on the faces of the two naked men who he'd clearly interrupted. Both were Immortals, and very new ones judging by the strength of their quickenings.

God, baby, so good, so fucking good. Vic was in a state of complete meltdown. He had figured that Mac would be good at this, but he had had no idea just how talented the other man was until he found himself with his brains being sucked out of his cock at the same time he was finger-fucked into a mindless slut.

Determined to give the younger man the same pleasure he was getting, Vic took the long, lean cock deeper into his mouth, relaxing his throat then swallowing, massaging his partner's length with the contractions.

When a loud crash sounded, Vic wondered for a second if they had broken the bed or crashed the headboard through the thin wall. The tingling in his head went into overdrive, putting him in mind of a million fire ants crawling along his nerves, and that was enough to make the ex-cop jerk his head away from the luscious treat he'd been feasting on.

He registered the fact that the door was now hanging at an angle from the hinges and the fact that there was a man with a sword of all fucking things standing in the doorway before instinct took over. Rolling over Mac, Vic grabbed his gun from the rickety nightstand and aimed it at the newcomer's head. "You've just made a serious mistake, fucker," he growled, his hand rock steady despite the adrenaline overload that was coursing through him. "I don't know what costume party you're looking for, but it ain't here, so get your ass gone." Peripherally, Vic saw and felt Mac slide out from under him and knew he had backup, something which he was profoundly glad of; this guy just plain felt dangerous.

"You ever hear of fucking knocking?" Mac growled at the stranger, royally pissed that after finally getting Victor into a sexually compromising - and promising - situation, the mood had been totally fucked up by this sword brandishing asshole.

Rolling off the bed and into a standing crouch, Mac grabbed his own weapon and hit the safety. "Hate to break it to you, Conan, but this is gonna be rather like that scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark; you got a sword, we got guns. Bullets move faster than swords, so bang, you're dead. Get the picture? Good, now why don't you do like my partner says and get the fuck out of here," the younger man snarled, in a state of supreme frustration.

Connor snickered. He couldn't help it. These two were not only new, they had no idea what they were. It looked like he had a pair of students whether he wanted them or not. "The name's Connor, not Conan," he said, abruptly deciding to use his own name. It had been a long time since he did, so it ought to be safe.

"So let me guess," he continued, seating himself in one of the chairs crammed in against a wall, ignoring the fuming men and the guns pointed at him, "you died very recently, possibly even today," with a pointed look in Mac's direction and wrinkling his nose. "And you came back to life, unmarked, in perfect health. How'm I doing so far, lads?"

Despite Vic's state of mind, he'd almost laughed at Mac's comment. Trust his partner to come up with an off the wall comment like that. His eyes narrowed into cold green slits, however, when the stranger answered. "You're way off base, and if you don't want a bullet between your eyes leave. Now."

A sick feeling was beginning to grow in Vic's stomach despite his outward attitude. How the hell did this guy know what happened to them? The notion that he was an Agency employee sent to bring them in flitted across his mind, and the ex-cop's finger tightened on the trigger under it, ready to take the bastard down if he made a move at them.

"Go ahead," Connor invited. "It won't hurt me permanently any more than whatever happened to you did you." He took a deep breath. "I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, born in the village of Glenfinnen on the shores of Loch Sheon in 1518, killed in battle in 1536, and I cannot die. I am Immortal, as are you." He stared soberly at the two stunned men. "But I think you already know that much, even if you won't admit it to yourselves."

He sighed, slumping in the chair, his sword hanging loosely in his hand. "You were fortunate that I was the first to run into you. We can be killed, though only by removing our heads," he raised the sword in explanation. "Some of us prey on new Immortals, taking their heads before they can learn who and what they are. Most of us, though, teach the new ones we find. Which makes me your teacher." He eyed the irate men glaring at him and sighed. "Lucky me."

Mac stood there, naked as the day he was born, head swiveling from his partner to the nutcase and back again like he was at a Wimbledon match. It was just too much for the ex-thief to take in. Immortal. Can't ever permanently die. That meant he and Vic would never grow old, they could boff like bunnies forever - but it also meant that they might eventually get tired or end up hating one another. Mac frowned at that.

And what did the crackpot say, oh yeah. you could die if... "Oh gross, you mean you hack each other's heads off with swords? How fucking Marie Antoinettish. No way, 'Conan', count me out!"

Connor moved so fast neither man had a chance to defend himself. His sword rested against Mac's throat, a breath away from slicing through his vulnerable neck. "Like this? Get used to it. Immortals carry swords. If you don't, this is the last thing you will ever see or feel, an instant before one of us takes your head."

He sighed and returned to his seat. "Be grateful you live in this era. My clan wanted to burn me at the stake as a witch. The sixteenth century was not a good time to come back from the dead in front of every person who knew you."

He eyed them in disgruntlement. "Make up your minds. You can come with me, and I can teach you, or you can stay here, and sooner or later, you will die."

The only thing that kept Victor from blowing off MacLeod's damn head when he'd had his sword at Mac's throat was the chance that he'd get a swing in and hurt Mac before he died. Once he'd lowered the blade, it was his words that kept Vic from pulling the trigger - that and the slim chance that what this guy was saying was the truth.

"Can we have five minutes to talk this over or are your hordes of headhunters going to bust in here like you did?" he asked sarcastically, slowly lowering his gun but still keeping it ready just in case. It was a foregone conclusion in Vic's mind that whatever they did, he and Mac would do it together, and he wasn't deciding anything without talking it over with his partner.

Mac rubbed his neck and warily backed away from the nutcase in the chair until he was standing right next to Vic. Eyeing MacLeod like the psycho Mac assumed him to be, he swore softly and succinctly in Cantonese. "Vic? Are you actually buying this?" But he nonetheless heard the doubt in his own voice.

"Forever? What the hell do you do? How do you live? How can you stand watching your friends and family die over and over again until you're alone? That's not life, that's hell," Mac whispered softly. But if it were true, he wouldn't be quite as alone as that. He'd have Vic.

Ignoring MacLeod, Mac turned to face his partner cum lover. "You've always had the instincts to figure this stuff out, Vic; there's no one I trust more. You say so and we play it his way, you don't want to and we walk. Whatever the call, I'm with you."

MacLeod eyed them, wondering why he didn't just get up and leave. It wasn't as if he wanted more students. But he couldn't find it in him to leave the two of them to the wolves, knowing that they were utterly defenseless. He wondered if Ramirez had been as aggravated by him and his know it all attitude as he was by theirs. He grinned suddenly.

"An interesting thought, but not physically possible," he replied to Mac in the same dialect of Cantonese, though a little old-fashioned.

Narrowing his eyes, Vic wondered just what it was that Mac had said and what MacLeod had answered. From the look on his partner's face, Mac certainly hadn't been expecting the other man to understand let alone answer him, so it must have been creative at least.

He honestly wasn't sure what they should do. This whole situation was so fucked that it wasn't funny but... "If it comes down to a choice between this and her, I think we'd better take our chances with him," he muttered to Mac.

"Any chance we can grab something to wear before we leave?" he asked, turning his attention back to MacLeod, raising an eyebrow at the other man's disgruntled expression. "Or are you just enjoying the view?"

Mac stared at the Scot, his mouth falling open in shock. Victor's words barely registered as he continued to gape. "{You speak Cantonese?}" he managed to stumble out at last. The twinkle in the Immortal's eyes followed by a gruffly compelling laugh made him swallow.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. At least she didn't understand what I was saying when she spied on me. He's gonna know every fucking thing I say," Mac bemoaned as he turned back to Vic.

"Guess this means we get to learn how to," Mac swallowed as he watched Vic solemnly, "decapitate people. God, this is worse than the organ lab, watching Murphy and Camier play post-mortem and having the Director crawl naked all over me combined," the ex-thief whimpered as he stalked past both men and into the bathroom.

"And you two can sit there and glare at each other. I'm getting a fucking shower, dammit!"

"What an interesting comparison," Connor observed. "You'll have to explain it to me some time. And yes," he added, turning back to Vic, "I'm definitely enjoying the view. Both of them." His eyes flicked from Vic to Mac's ass disappearing through the bathroom doorway. "But I don't go where I'm not invited," he said coolly in response to the jealous flare in Vic's eyes.

"One thing you might want to keep in mind, Victor, is it? All those stories about highland barbarians and clan wars and the like, they're not history to me. That's who and what I am, how I was raised. I was killed in a battle between my clan and another. Don't presume that I'll react the way people of this time do. Scratch the surface and I'm still a highland warrior," he warned, his brogue thickening with every word.

"So you can slice and dice, I can shoot, and Mac can rob us all blind, that cover all the bases?" Vic sighed, catching his damp jeans when Mac threw them out of the bathroom and pulling them on, grimacing at the cool, clinging denim. "You're a highland warrior, but we're both secret agents, and we're damn good at what we do. If you have a problem with that, take it up with this." He held up his gun again, gesturing with the barrel.

"If what you're saying is true, it won't kill you, but it'll probably slow you down for a while. Oh, and yes, it's Victor," he added as an afterthought, still disgruntled by the way MacLeod's eyes had followed Mac as he walked away. "Mansfield. The one in the shower is Mac Ramsey."

Connor laughed wryly. "Are you always this irritable, or is this something special for me? And if it's jealousy, forget it, man. A man would have to be blind not to appreciate the eye candy the two of you have been treating me to since I got here.

"I know you're not offering," he added, forestalling an angry reply, "but that doesn't change my appreciation." He shrugged. "Nothing to worry about, though. I only take what's freely offered."

"So sorry if my attitude offends you. Being blown up and having a total stranger bust into my room when I was in the middle of the best fucking blowjob I've ever had in my life tends to make me a tense," Vic snarled. Still glaring at MacLeod, he sat on the bed and grabbed up his shoulder holsters, checking the leather for weak spots before shrugging into them.

"And damn right no one's offering. You teach us whatever the hell it is you're going to, and that's it. We've had one psycho controlling our lives, last thing we need is another one." As he spoke, the ex-cop shrugged into the harness, then cursed, realizing that his shirt and jacket were both total losses so he had nothing to cover the guns with.

Mac stood in the now open doorway, his worse for wear Armani slacks riding low on his hips and clinging to damp skin. His charred shirt hung open revealing flesh unmarred by any burns he had sustained.

An eyebrow quirked at Vic's blowjob comment, and he chuckled softly, causing the two men's heads to swing in his direction. "Shit, Mansfield, if that's the best blowjob you've had in your life, you've been seriously deprived. I was going for maximum satisfaction in a minimum amount of time there. Wait until I really have time to... ahem... work on the problem," he sniggered as he walked past Connor to his partner.

Not bothering to acknowledge the Scot, Mac held Vic's head steady and ravished the older man's mouth for long seconds. "And I will work on the problem, promise," he husked as he came up for air.

Turning back to the now squirming Scot, Mac appraised him carefully while leaning back against Vic's chest. "You know - he is kinda cute, in that heathen barbarian sort of way," he commented with an offhand shrug, deviltry alight in his eyes. "And he's got good taste - after all you are prime, Mansfield."

Connor smirked at the men. "Cute?" he asked dryly. "I've not heard that applied tae me verra often." His accent thickened slightly as his eyes ran over the deliberate display Mac was providing. He cleared his throat before continuing, "You should keep in mind that we barbarians tend to take what we want."

He shifted again in his chair. "If ye're ready, perhaps we could go now? I've had a long night," thinking of the encounter with the nameless Immortal earlier and the quickening still sparking through his body, making him want to ravish these two.

"You can try," Vic muttered, snaking an arm around Mac's waist, his fingers sliding under the fabric of the other man's waistband. "Might not like the results though."

He studied the Scot for a long minute, then snorted softly. "You've had a long night, that's a good one." Tightening his arm around Mac's waist when he felt the other man's silent laughter, Vic reluctantly let him go, then made a quick check of the room, wiping down everything they may have touched and gathering up the remains of his shirt and the towels they'd used. The Agency may have thought they were dead, but all it would take was a fingerprint to have the Director hot on their trails again.

"We're clear here. You have everything, Mac?"

"Got you and got my guns. The clothes can be chucked, they're useless. Just need to pick up my stash on the way out of town is all," Mac replied as he grabbed his guns, tucking them in his waistband then putting on his suit jacket, which had survived the ordeal unscathed somehow since he hadn't been wearing it.

"So, just where are we going anyway, and how the hell are we expected to make a living now that we're dead, oh wise and ancient kiltboy?"

Connor shook his head, wondering again why he hadn't just kept going. Either one of them would be handful as a student, but both of them! He sighed. Having to look at them with the quickening still racing through his veins wasn't helping his chancy temper either.

"You'll come back to my home for now until we can establish new identities for the pair of you. It would be best to get away from here where people know you, so we'll go to one of my other properties until you're trained. After that, it's up to you where you go and what you do. I'll make sure you know who to contact before you move on.

"Now, shall we go?" he demanded impatiently.

"Hopefully that means you'll be able to keep me in the style to which I'm accustomed," Mac shot back, not liking the tone of the Scotsman's voice very much and wanting to needle him a bit. "Lead on, Macduff. Whoops, wrong movie, I mean MacLeod."

"Christ, Mac," Vic groaned, smacking himself in the forehead with one hand and grabbing his partner by the arm with the other, pulling him past the Scot and outside before MacLeod could launch an attack based on that reply. He kept himself between Mac and the older man, fully expecting to hear the slide of oiled metal as their teacher gave up and simply decided to dispatch both of them.

"You got a car?" he shot over his shoulder, noting thankfully that Connor's sword was still hidden, though the other man did look like a thunderstorm that was about to explode over both of them. "Mac, just let it lie, please," he hissed, turning back to his partner. "At least until we get a chance to deal with all this."

"Awhh, but Vic-tor," Mac pouted playfully. "He interrupted at a somewhat crucial moment, and you know how I get when I don't get what I want," Mac moved closer to Vic and nuzzled his ear despite the fact that he knew MacLeod was watching. "And I wanted to come in your mouth, Victor, just when you came in mine. I wanted to drink you down and then get you hard again so you could fuck me. I really, really wanted you to fuck me, Vic."

Connor rolled his eyes. "And they call me immature?" He groaned, tempted to beat his head against a wall. It would probably be more productive. "If you're a really good boy," he said in a syrupy voice usually reserved for young children and idiots, "and do as you're told right now, you can have your reward when we get home." He gave the irritating man a vacuous smile, backing toward the door and crooking a finger at him.

Vic decided that it was probably for the best to ignore the other two until they'd reached somewhere more private, somewhere that he could deal with Mac and the damned raging hard-on his partner's husky words had given him. And as for MacLeod... Let's just see how you like listening in and not being able to come near him, bud, the ex-cop growled to himself, fighting the possessive anger that welled up in him at Connor's words.

"Can we just go?" he growled, brushing past the two taller men, stalking out into the night, not really caring that he had no idea where they were going.

Mac looked after his partner, startled at Vic's abrupt departure. Shedding all teasing and attitude, he stared forlornly after him. "I didn't mean to... shit." The younger agent tore after Vic, catching up to him outside.

"Vic, hey slow down!" Grabbing the older man's arm, he pulled Vic to a stop. "I'm sorry. You know how my mouth runs off around people who seem to think they own my life. I mean it almost seems we've traded one jailer for another, no matter how well intentioned he is. I guess I'm just pissed. Life can't even cut us a break in death, you know?" Mac's shoulders hunched, and he tried to withdraw into himself.

"I'll stop giving kilt-boy grief, and I'll behave, just don't shut me out, okay, Vic? You're all the family I've got left now, and I don't wanna lose you too," Mac husked quietly, looking anywhere but at Vic as he said it.

Connor followed more sedately after his two students, frowning as he caught the tail end of the conversation. "Maybe I wasn't clear earlier... the teacher/student relationship is temporary. Most of us remain friendly with our teachers, but we go our own ways after a few years." He suddenly grinned wickedly. "Don't worry about giving me grief, lad. You'd have far to go to outdo some of the things I did to Ramirez." A faint smile crossed his face as he remembered his own teacher. I still miss you, you Spanish peacock.

"Look, it's nothing personal," Mac tried to explain. "Where Vic and I just came from - well, let's just say that dying was the only way we were ever gonna get away, okay? So I'm a little leery of too good to be true offers. It's what landed me in my last job. Even though the job did let me find Victor, that is," Mac smiled shyly at his partner. "I need some time to get used to all this, MacLeod. I mean, talk about your life changing events."

Taking a deep breath, trying to shed some of the almost overwhelming anger that had overtaken him, Vic looked first at MacLeod, then at Mac, sighing when he saw the insecurity hiding deep within the younger man's dark gaze. Shit. All that he knew about Mac and his past and he still did the one thing that would hurt him most - he made him think that he was leaving.

"I think we all need to talk more about this if we're going to understand each other at all," he said quietly, sliding an arm around Mac's shoulders and hugging the other man for a second to reassure him. "And a good, stiff drink too." Looking back at the Scot, he studied the older man for a long moment. "I hope you have a car around here somewhere, 'cause there doesn't look to be jack out for hot-wiring."

Mac leaned into the embrace for a moment and smiled at his partner, grateful for Vic's intrinsic thoughtfulness. Oh, he knew Vic was the type that would stick by you through thick and thin; after all he'd always watched Mac's back, even when he couldn't stand the younger agent. It was just nice to be reassured that what he knew about Victor Mansfield still held true in their crazy new life after death. That Vic was an honorable, upright, and loyal man who was so god damned sexy he'd probably even gotten a rise or two out of the Director despite her nasty fixation on him.

"Hey, it's okay, Dork," he teased affably. "I know I'm a pain in the ass and drive you nuts. All part of the magnificent Ramsey charm," he teased Vic, returning the hug while waiting to see the Scot pull a Volvo out of his hat.

Connor shook his head, wondering what horrible karma he'd accumulated to cause him to inherit two baby Immortals. And of course, they both had to be fucking gorgeous and totally fixated on each other. He sighed. It was his punishment for everything he'd done to Ramirez, he just knew it.

"Follow me," he said, striding forward and around the corner. He led them to his car, which was parked not far away, the reason he'd been passing by in the first place. He motioned them into the car and got in himself, then drove them to his condo in that city. He'd been about ready to kill off the identity he was currently using and move on, and judging by what the babies had said about their recent past, getting them the hell out of Toronto sounded like a very good idea.

"Spare room's down the hall, private bathroom, the security system is armed, and I'm going to bed. If you're smart, you'll stick around and I'll teach you what you need to know. If not, well, don't wake me up on the way out." Too tired and horny after the Quickening to spend another moment with the men, Connor locked himself in his bedroom, where he collapsed into bed and jerked off several times before finally managing to fall asleep.

Mac closed the door to their new bedroom with a sigh. The Scot, while cute, was damned annoying. And the way he kept looking at Vic had the ex-thief wanting to do some damage to the 'barbarian'. Vic was his, dammit!

Seeing the older man sitting on the bed staring at him, Mac gave him a predatory smile and began to stalk towards him with a lithe rolling of his hips. The jacket and charred silk shirt were tossed. The Armani slacks came down and were kicked off while barely breaking his stride. Mac didn't stop until he was in front of Vic, and then only long enough to push the ex-cop down onto the bed so he could straddle the older man.

"So, 'dork', wanna continue where we were so rudely interrupted or try something new and different?"

"Like what?" Vic countered, resting his hands on Mac's thighs, his gaze moving upwards from the younger man's crotch to his lush lips - lips that were twisted in a familiar smirk. "Since I apparently don't know what a good blowjob is, how can I have any other suggestions?" As he spoke, Victor rubbed his palms over his partner's legs, feeling the toned muscles shift under his hands.

"Awwh, did I hurt poor, widdle Victor's feelings earlier?" Mac smirked as he rubbed his ass against the erection brushing against it. "Or was it 'cause I said it in front of the big, bad Scot?"

"Here's a suggestion, babe - how 'bout you make me scream the rooftop down and give the moldering old kiltboy an audio show that has him climbing the walls with envy. Or I could do you," the younger man teased. "Have wanted to for a long time, you know - ever since the Droogs case when we went to the Caligula. You looked so yummy, even though the shirt was kinda dorky. Bet you'd look amazing dressed in black leather and nothing else, mmmm - I can almost see it." "The Scot can go..." Vic's response changed to a half-swallowed groan at the feel of Mac's body rubbing against his renewed erection through the soft denim of his jeans. Ever since MacLeod had interrupted them in the act of devouring each other, the ex-cop had found himself getting hard every time he looked at Mac's mouth, and now here he was presented with the younger man's rangy, long-limbed body like it was a feast.

"Could always make each other scream," he rasped, running his thumbs along the creases where Mac's thighs met his hips. "As for the black leather... I'll wear it if you inspect the stitching." The sight of the ex-thief's expressive features twisting up at the memory of what the Director had done that night made Victor chuckle, and he brushed a thumb along the side of Mac's cock. "I'm not going to bother telling you how you looked that night, would give you a swollen head." He glanced downward, then laughed again. "Or another one anyway."

Mac grinned down at the older man, "Awwwh, you mean you don't wanna stroke my... ego some more, Vic?" he shot back before bending to take the ex-cop's mouth in a passionate kiss. "I fell hard for you, you know?" he confessed softly when they came up for air. "That's the reason I was such a prick - and there you were mooning over Li Ann... and Ivy... and Gloria. All I had was the Director pawing at me, oh, and Claire, but she was a massive mistake. I was settling for second best. You were what I really wanted."

Rubbing cat-like against Vic, teasing the older man's nipples with his chest hair, Mac set out to drive Victor slowly insane. His hand reached between their bodies to cup and caress the ex-cop's cock. "Oooh, a present for me?" he purred. "Vic, you shouldn't have!"

"What about what's-her-face, the Rivers girl," Vic growled in between exploring the hot recesses of Mac's mouth with his tongue. "You have no idea what I would have done that night if you hadn't had anything on in my bed."

His hips arched upward as much as was possible with Mac's weight on them, trying to press the other man's agile fingers harder into his aching groin. "What I should have done," he continued, breathing the words against Mac's lips, "was to shoot that idiot when he broke in so that we could finish what we were doing. As it is, I hope the fucker's a light sleeper."

"Angie?" Mac queried, somewhat distracted, "Sweet kid, pretty too - but you have no idea how tempted I was to crawl naked into your bed... Damn, we wasted a lot of time, didn't we? And forget about kiltboy and play with me, okay?" the ex-thief demanded, grinding his hips down hard so that his hand goaded Vic's erection before sliding back down between Vic's legs to kneel on the floor.

"And I did promise to teach you all about blowjobs earlier," he smirked at the older man before unbuttoning and yanking down Vic's jeans. Letting his tongue dart out to run up the underside of Vic's cock, Mac purred at the flavor that danced on his tongue. "Mmm, just like an all-day sucker, I could lick you for hours."

"Unless you've got a cockring somewhere in those over-priced pants you had on, no way that's happening." Vic's back arched as the heated glide of Mac's tongue turned cool when the cool air hit his flesh.

At the glint in Mac's dark eyes, the ex-cop pushed up on his elbows, his eyes narrowing. "Play time is later, baby. Show me what ya got."

"Oooh, now that's quite an offer - but you have to be a little more specific than that, Victor. Do you want to fuck or be fucked? I," Mac snickered. "I swing easy, brother," he snickered, using the same phrase he had in the infamous Rivers case.

The phrasing his partner used brought to mind that night in Michael Tang's building - both of them suspended in mid-air, Mac rubbing against him as they swung back and forth. Luckily, Mac had thought his reaction had been due to the adrenaline rush, and Vic hadn't acknowledged the real reason for it until much later.

Sitting up, Vic hauled Mac back up onto the bed, pulling the younger man on top of him. "All I've heard from you so far is a lot of bragging, Ramsey. Put up or shut up; fuck me so the Scot knows just what we're doing."

"Your wish is my command," Mac laughed, then realized a slight logistical problem. "Shit - no lube. Wait a minute, I saw something in the bathroom." Clambering off of Vic, Mac dashed back into their en suite bathroom and came out seconds later holding a container of hand cream.

"Jergen's hand lotion, keeps the skin soft and supple while smelling like cherries," Mac quipped as he crawled between Vic's legs. Squirting some of the hand cream onto his palm, he let it warm before dipping his finger in it and slowly working the slick substance into Vic's puckered opening

"Damn, you're so tight, Vic," the ex-thief moaned. "Can't wait to get in you." Soon a second finger joined the first, and finally Mac felt Vic was sufficiently stretched. He slathered the rest of the hand cream onto his cock and brought Vic's legs up to his shoulders. Positioning himself at the tight portal to Vic's body, Mac pushed in slowly until he was fully embedded. "Hmm - cherry hand cream. I think I really like the sound of that," he grinned as he came to a halt within the older man.

Vic's breath hissed out as Mac pushed inside of him. God, this was good; this was real; this was Mac in him. Once his body relaxed, accepting the firm length of flesh that had breeched him, Vic opened his eyes, smiling slightly as he rocked his hips upward.

"Somehow I think that's the only thing cherry in this room," Vic rasped, grinning up at the younger man and rocking his hips again. "Unless that's all you intend on doing with that thing."

"Oh, I don't know, I think you're pretty cherry, Mansfield," Mac moaned as Vic began to move against him. "Damn, Vic... you feel so fucking good! Can't believe I'm actually, finally in you," the ex-thief breathed as he began to rock his own hips back and forth.

Releasing one of the older man's hips, Mac wrapped his long fingers in a loose grip around Vic's cock and began stroking in time with his thrusts. "You are so hot, Vic. All buff and lean and so goddamned beautiful it should be a sin. And you're all mine!"

Mac's hips began to move even faster as too much tension and too little release played havoc with his normally exceptional self-control. "Need you, love you, want you always," the younger man chanted without really realizing what he was saying as he pounded away at his lover's body.

"Jesus, Mac!" Vic exclaimed, trapped between the burning pleasure of the younger man inside him and the talented fingers circling and tugging at his cock. His fingers threaded behind Mac's neck, and he pulled his partner closer, hissing his next words out against those full lips.

"Been driving me crazy all night. Showing yourself off for that guy. Made me want to jump you right there and then." He rocked upwards, caught in Mac's frenzy, absorbing the words of love and possession and whispering out his own in return.

The nudge of Mac's cock against his prostate made Vic's impassioned words dissolve into a howl of pleasure as his whole body spasmed. He sucked in a breath, his muscles clamping down around the younger man, "God. Yes, there. Mac. Mine!" His body froze, then trembled, the waves of seed pumping from him to coat his chest.

Mac watched with hot eyes as Vic orgasmed. "Jesus fuck, you are so damn hot!" the ex-thief growled hungrily before bending to feast on the lush lips of the man beneath him. Losing whatever shreds of control he'd managed to retain, Mac began driving into the older man's body, feeling the tight anal muscles milk his aching cock.

"There, right there, Jesus, fuck, oh God, VIC!" the younger man wailed as his cock jumped one final time before he came, inundating the older man with milky threads of his own seed.

Collapsing spent on top of Vic, Mac managed to raise his head and plaster a sardonic smile on his lips. "Wasn't the kiltboy I was showing off for. Was you. Wanted you to jump me. Maybe later, though?" Letting his head fall back down to Vic's chest, Mac slowly came down from his post-orgasmic high, feeling more content than he had since... since before he'd asked Li Ann to marry him.

"Count on it," the older man murmured, wincing slightly as he rearranged his legs to allow Mac to settled closer to him. The other man was a comforting weight on him, and Vic slowly stroked his partner's back before lifting his head enough to nuzzle Mac's neck.

"And damn glad to hear that. Would hate to have to shoot the guy when he's supposed to be our teacher." He sobered a bit at that, though he kept stroking Mac's back from his shoulders to the swell of his ass. "Do you believe him?" he asked, still not sure of his own answer on that matter.

"I dunno, but..." Mac paused a moment, trying to sort out his feelings. "I can feel him, you know - like this buzz in the back of my mind. I know he's in the other room. And... my shirt was charbroiled, Vic; I should have third degree burns on parts of me, but there's not a mark, not a scar, not even a scratch other than the old ones. It's so fucking bizarre.

"But it's got me thinking. Why us? Out of all the people in the whole fucking world, why did the Director recruit a thief out of a Hong Kong jail, a cop in a Toronto jail, a mob princess and Li Ann. What're the odds?"

"I don't ever try to understand why she does anything but..." Vic sighed and rubbed his palm over Mac's warm, untouched skin, thinking. "Figured we just had skills she wanted. If - if it was something more, why isn't Li Ann here too? Why were we the only ones to survive?"

"Maybe Li..." Mac's voice hitched at the thought of his now dead sister. He had loved her with all the passion of youth and then had that love mellow into what it should be - a brother's love for his sister. "Maybe she was a personal choice. She and the Director seemed closer than usual this last little while. Maybe Li Ann played her real feelings closer to the chest than we'd ever thought, either of us.

"I don't know," Mac finished with a tired groan. "How would she even know we were going to be Immortal? I mean - how can you tell that? Damn - we almost need MacLeod here to answer these damned questions. Almost," Mac said, forestalling the older man's outburst. "He don't get to see you naked. No way, no how!"

Vic blinked at the other man's statement, then had to laugh, though the sound was a bit sad. "Hate to remind you, babe, but he's already seen both of us that way. And you're saying Li Ann and the Director..." Vic frowned, feeling suddenly naive and every bit the 'dork' Mac called him at times. His own personal relationships had been fucked up enough that he'd given up trying to figure other people's out - maybe that was why he'd missed how Mac felt - missed it until it was thrust in his face so to speak.

"Well, the dragon lady had definitely taken Li Ann under her wing. And she touched her more than she touched me - which was every fucking day. So. Li Ann never came out and said anything, but they were going salsa dancing together and playing dress up and stuff... I dunno, maybe I'm reading more into it than there was, but that's the way it seemed to me."

Snuggling closer to Vic, Mac sighed in utter contentment. "As for MacLeod - he may have looked, but if he touches, I'm gonna rearrange his pretty highland face for him. End of story!"

Still wondering just how he could have missed all that, Vic shook his head. "You're probably right, babe. You're more...into those nuances than I am. If it's not out there in plain black and white, it goes right by me."

"Like he would. And even if he tried, like I'd let him," Vic soothed, still wondering just why Mac thought the Scot was after his ass when he'd plainly been watching Mac's. "Besides, thought we weren't talking about him anymore." He cocked his head to the side and listened. "Don't hear him banging on the walls; guess we'll have to be louder next time."

Mac purred softly and rubbed himself against the older man. "You realize, don't you, if what he says is true... we're this age forever. No getting older, no worries about longer and longer 'rest' periods between go rounds of hot sex. What we're at sexually is where we'll stay.

"Always hard, always needy. You feel needy yet, Vic?" the younger man breathed, rubbing more feverishly against Vic. "'Cause if you are, it's my turn to be fucked. C'mon, babe, fuck me raw!"

Vic shook his head slowly, unable to keep from laughing, though the sound had a needy edge to it. "I'm getting there, babe, but remember, even if we are Immortal, I still have ten years on you."

He paused, becoming more and more aware of the glide of Mac's lean body against his, and the effect it was having on him. "One good thing about all this is that I can fuck you raw, or vice versa, and we won't even feel it next morning." He rolled to the side, settling Mac under him, then brushed his lips over the other man's lush mouth. "But ya know, if you're never going to get any older, maybe I should start calling you Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up."

"Does that make you Tinkerbell then?" Mac teased as he writhed underneath the lean body of his lover. "And dammit, you're not old, you're just right, Victor. If I ever hear you talk about age difference again I'll... well hell, I can't threaten to kill you 'cause you'll just come back anyway.

"I mean, in four or five hundred years, what's it gonna matter that you're all of ten years older than me?" Mac finished hotly, his whole body tense with his conviction and ire. "God, you are such a dork at times, Vic," Mac grumbled as he watched the older man for a reaction.

"So you've told me repeatedly," Vic murmured, a calculating expression darkening his green eyes. He'd learned a thing or two during his years on Vice; maybe now was the time to show Malcolm Ramsey just how un-dorky he could be when he chose.

"And you want to get fucked, hmm?" Vic brought his hand down on Mac's ass, hard, then rolled them over so that he was looming over his new lover. "You want it, then get yourself over to the wall and spread 'em." That said, he kissed Mac hard enough to bruise his lips and climbed back off him, settling himself against the pillows and waiting for the other man to do as he said.

Mac stared down at Vic in shocked disbelief. Who was this and more importantly, could he stay for a while? Deciding to see if he could push the envelope a little, Mac crawled up Vic's body as far as the older man's waist. Bending he licked Vic's burgeoning erection like a lollipop and then smacked his bee-stung lips appreciatively.

"Okay, if you want me to," Mac grinned his little boy grin and hopped off the bed, deliberately heading to the wall that separated their bedroom from the Scotsman's. Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, Mac reached up to his neck and let his hand trace downwards through his chest hair, along his abs and through the curls at the apex of his thighs.

Wrapping the hand loosely around his erection, Mac brought the other hand up to his lips and sucked two fingers into the wet haven of his mouth then applied the moist digits to pulling on a nipple. "So, what now, Vic-tor?"

Victor's eyes glittered in the low lighting, and he slowly pushed himself off the bed, pacing toward Mac with an almost cat-like grace to his movements. "Now," he purred, catching Mac's hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to swab the palm with his tongue. "Now you turn and spread 'em, and stay that way until I come back."

Releasing the younger man's hand, Vic ran his thumb over Mac's full lower lip, before taking a step back. Giving his partner's lean, lanky body a very blatant once over, he smiled, then turned and wandered toward the bathroom, leaving a wide-eyed Mac behind him.

"Med leng yea?" {What the fuck?} Mac breathed, staring in disbelief at the suddenly bad to the bone and butch lover he'd acquired in the blink of an eye. Not that he was complaining. Immortality seemed to agree rather well with Vic, and Mac was liking it, especially if his weeping dick was anything to go by. Christ, he was so god damned hard it hurt!

"Vi-ic," Mac whined shamelessly as he turned and 'spread 'em' as ordered, wriggling his ass provocatively. "C'mon, don't leave me like this. I need you. I need to feel you inside me, fucking me, taking me. God, do you have any idea how many times I woke up covered in my own come because I dreamed that you were doing just that? You were my standard wet dream, Mansfield. It got so that I had to think of you when I was with a woman just to get it going. You drove me crazy.

"C'mon, Vic-tor. Stop teasing, will ya? Just fuck me, okay?"

Victor couldn't help a grin as he used the facilities, then sauntered back out into the bedroom. "Hmm, careful there, Ramsey, or I'll get the feeling you really like me or something."

Before Mac could respond, he crowded up behind the taller man, rubbing his hardening erection against the crack of Mac's ass. One hand slid in front of the other man, and he took up where Mac had left off, stroking the ex-thief's cock until he was moaning and writhing against the wall.

"Now about that fucking you..." Flipping open the hand cream he'd grabbed on the way over, Vic poured some out into his palm, then trailed his fingers through it before pressing one between Mac's asscheeks, teasing, then pushing into the tight bud of his anus.

"Ohhhhhh fuuuuuck," Mac moaned quietly, pushing back to help Vic's finger slide in further. "God, Vic." Resting his head against the cool wall, Mac let the sensations wash over him. The feel of his lover's finger sliding inside his body, the hot, insidious pleasure that gripped him and made him crazy, the rushing of his blood, the pounding of his heart, the gasping for breath as he was taken beyond himself.

Mac had missed this, missed the feeling of being claimed. It was so different making love with a man; there was understanding - primal and visceral - the knowledge of how parts worked, what caused pleasure, what was needed. And Vic was an attentive and thorough lover, driving Mac higher and higher, making him moan and writhe and beg and beat his clenched fists against the wall as his body was made to jump through imaginary hoops while Vic was preparing him.

"Mansfield, if you don't fuck me and do it now, I may have to do something drastic," Mac warned with a growl as his prostate was nudged yet again by the three fingers now inside him, twisting and teasing his loosened channel with the promise of what was to come. "I. Want. Your. Cock. In. Me," the younger man explained as clearly and concisely as he could.

Vic muffled a chuckle against Mac's neck. He'd never heard the ex-thief sound that needy before, and he found he liked it. "Well, if you put it that way..."

Sliding his fingers from the heat of Mac's body, Vic steadied his cock and pushed inside. Heated flesh surrounded him, and he moaned, his breath cascading hot and damp over the younger man's shoulder. One hand slipped around, closing on Mac's erection, his grip just this side of painful as he stroked his partner in time with his thrusts.

Moaning quietly, Mac let his head fall back onto Vic's shoulder. "W-wanted you for sooo long, Vic," he moaned as the older man worked his body so incredibly well. His cock, his ass and all the pleasure points in between were throbbing with Vic's claiming.

Mac's hands flowered open and braced against the wall, nails digging into the plaster and paint. His arms were white with tension as he tried to force himself back further, take Vic in deeper, merge them into one somehow. "Need this, need you, need you forever, VIC!" he wailed as the older man found and stabbed his prostate repeatedly, sending him into paroxysms of shuddering pleasure and driving him that much closer to orgasm.

One of Vic's hands closed over Mac's, twining their fingers together. He dropped his head to the taller man's shoulder, senses filled with the smell of sweat, musk and Mac when he sucked in a gasping breath. "Have forever now," he rasped, driving in a final time before Mac's body shook in orgasm, wringing his own climax from the depths of his body.

Panting, drained of strength, Vic leaned against his partner, fingers still moving idly over Mac's softening cock, strangely loathe to move and lose the contact with the younger man. "Think we should move this to that bed over there? Immortality or not, I need some sleep."

"Yeah," Mac sighed, whimpering slightly as he felt Vic slide out of him, leaving him feeling empty and alone. "Besides, kiltboy is probably less than impressed with us for keeping him up all night and will wanna start our 'training' early. He kinda reminds me of the Director - ruthless and sadistic," the younger man groused as he climbed into the bed and immediately plastered himself all over Victor when the ex-cop lay down next to him. So he liked to snuggle; Vic would have to get used to it.

"Wonder where he's gonna take us to train," the ex-thief continued on a yawn, as he began to let the day's events and the night's too fantastic sex take hold and lull him into an exhausted and sated sleep. "Somewhere the Agency can't see, hear or find out about us, hopefully. Night, Vic," he continued, pressing a kiss to his partner turned lover's shoulder.

"Dunno, guess we'll find out come morning," Vic murmured, wrapping his arm around Mac's waist, holding the other man close to him, fear of losing him making Vic's grip tighter then it would normally have been and keeping his arm in place long after they both fell asleep.


  since 02-08-07


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