Sean and Jamie - Part Two
By M.C. Gordon
Part two in a series about two fictional lovers, Sean O'Leary and James Gordon. All of the Sean & Jamie stories are about men loving men. Many of them include scenes of sexual gratification. Unless this is legal in your jurisdiction, you must leave now. To my knowledge, Sean and Jamie bear no actual resemblance to any other fictional characters.
The story:
Sean O'Leary opened his eyes and let them adjust to the darkness of the room. Shadows gradually appeared from the darkness and he began to recognize the shapes of the chest of drawers and the shiftrobe against the bedroom wall. It was cold in the predawn Dublin morning. The woolen blanket had been kicked loose during the night so he pulled it back up, covering himself and his lover, James Gordon. Sean longed to draw Jamie to himself, to wrap his body around that of his love, to run his fingers through Jamie's raven hair and kiss the tear-swollen eyes. But he knew the temperament of his partner and that Jamie would only push him away.
Things between them had been uneasy for the past several days. They had often quarelled over Sean's lovers in the three years they had been living together and the latest argument threatened to doom the relationship.
When Jamie left Scotland to live with Sean in Dublin, he had sworn undying devotion and vowed that he would never willingly have another man. Jamie never broke that promise. Sean had made no such promises. He had sworn undying love, but not fidelity. Jamie had said that he had understood Sean's nature, that no one man could ever completely satisfy Sean sexually. Sean knew that it hurt Jamie for him to flaunt his sexual prowess but he couldn't hide his affairs any more than he could cease them.
The last time Sean came home after a night with one or more of his lovers had been more than Jamie could take. Sean had gotten into their bed and tried to take Jamie in his arms, still smelling of sweat and sex. Jamie's nerves were already at the breaking point. He had spent his time during Sean's absence working on a painting and hadn't been in bed very long. That Sean wanted Jamie near him after lying with another was more than Jamie could bear.
"Get away from me then, Sean! Ye stink of other men!"
The argument that ensued became ever louder as the testosterone level of both men grew. They were soon on their feet, their hands clenched into fists. Preferring to die rather than ever hit Jamie, Sean finally yelled, "If life with me is that bad, then you can just go back to Edinburg for all I care! Go on! Go back to the boarding house and your lonely life. Or better yet, go hide in that old ruin you were so fond of!"
The room was filled with a threatening silence. Jamie dropped his head and stared at the worn carpet in their bedroom floor. Finally, so quietly that Sean barely heard him, he whispered, "Maybe I'll do just that then, Sean. We should've known this wouldn't work. It's too young we were, to think we could be together forever."
Jamie tried to move but couldn't. He willed his body to turn, his feet to carry him out of the room. Instead, his heart betrayed him and tears began to run down his face. His chest felt heavy and his supper of lamb stew sat uneasily in his stomach. Feeling as though he couldn't breathe, he began to tremble until his silent tears became open sobs of despair.
Sean said nothing, but was filled with anger at himself. He wanted to take back the words that had caused this gentle boy such pain. He longed to reach out and wipe away the tears, to take Jamie in his arms and hold him until the trembling stopped. Crossing the room, he started to draw Jamie to himself in an embrace.
Sean's touch on his shoulder brought life to Jamie's frozen limbs and he pulled away. Lifting his head to look directly into Sean's eyes he said, "Right, then. I'll gather my things and be about leaving."
"You can't leave now, laddie. 'Tis the middle of the night. Stay until the morn. I'll leave you be, if that's your wish. Just don't try to leave now. The streets of Dublin aren't safe for you at night, Jamie."
Sean spoke quietly although a sudden fear gripped him that was stronger than his anger. Jamie was not accustomed to the streets of Dublin at night, by himself. Sean knew the back alleyways and how to get home safely from his trysts, but Jamie did not since he never explored the nightlife of Dublin's homosexuals. There was little chance of danger during the day, but more than one of Sean's acquaintances had been brutally attacked at night. Sean couldn't bear the thought of his love, his Jamie, ending up in some darkened alley slowly bleeding to death.
Realizing that Sean was right Jamie sighed and whispered, "All right, then, Sean. I'll wait and leave in the morning. I'll take only what I can carry with me. Package the rest and send it on. I'll mail you an address later. Keep the painting. 'Tis a gift I give to you."
Nodding his head in agreement, Sean left the room and quietly closed the door. He stopped at the linen closet in the hallway to collect a blanket and headed down the stairs, prepared to rest on the couch in the parlor. He planned to stay awake, in the event that Jamie should try to leave the house before dawn.
Jamie didn't leave as planned. The heat of the argument had drained his spirit, and the thought of living without Sean broke his gentle heart. Ever fragile of health and possessing the darkness prevalent among so many of his Scottish kin, Jamie had fallen into a troubled sleep.
Sean looked in on him the next morning only to find him in the grip of a high fever. He summoned a doctor, who could find no physical reason for Jamie's illness and suggested only that Sean keep him as comfortable as possible until the fever passed.
Sean sat with Jamie, filled with concern at his lover's sudden illness. He spent the next several hours placing freshened compresses of cold water saturated with rosemary and thyme upon Jamie's fevered brow. He gently wiped Jamie's body with the mixture, kissing his loved one's brow.
When Jamie's fever broke Sean went to make a pot of tea and some porridge for breakfast. At the foot of the stairs he stopped and glanced toward the small room that Jamie used as a studio to do the paintings that would guarantee his graduation from the University with honors and recommendations for patrons of his work. The light that filtered through the curtained window fell upon the still unfinished six by ten foot canvas on the easel in the corner of the room. Sean looked at the painting in disbelief.
The colors struck his eyes and captured his imaginations. He saw the Highlands of Scotland as he had never seen them before. The subdued purplish-gray heather spread out over the landscape, the craggy hills alive with the color of it. One cliff ended with its toes firmly planted in a stream that fed into a nearby loch, the rocks along the stream covered with moss. The figure of a man stood in the stream. In his right hand was a casting rod. The silver shimmer of his fishing line played out against the blue of the stream, caught in a beam of early morning sunlight. A single trout with water dripping from his body poised mid-air, having just managed to escape the call of the enticing lure at the end of the silver line.
Sean gasped a deep breath at the depth and life that Jamie had projected into the painting. Had the paint been dry he would have reached out to touch the trout, fully expecting to feel scales on its body.
He turned toward the staircase, glancing upward toward the room where he and Jamie had found such joy and passion. He ran swiftly up the stairs and paused briefly at the door watching Jamie. The fever had passed and Jamie was sleeping peacefully. Sean looked at his lover. The black hair through which he had so often run his fingers was mussed against the white pillow cover. Long black eyelashes fanned across high cheekbones. Sean felt a great tenderness for the boy who had given up everything to be with him. What he found with other men was pleasure, nothing more. What he had with Jamie was love and the hope of being together forever. Quickly making a decision, he crossed the room and slid gently into the bed. Jamie remained asleep. Moving as carefully as possible, Sean inched ever closer to the man he loved until he was able to take Jamie into his arms without waking him.
Asleep, yet on the edge of consciousness, Jamie felt Sean's warm body holding him. No memory of their argument infringed upon this moment and Jamie relaxed into Sean's embrace, his head resting on Sean's shoulder and one arm instinctively reaching out so that his slender fingers rested along Sean's neck.
Sean whispered softly, "I'll make it up to you, Jamie Love."
A bright streak of lightning flashed across the sky. The loud clap of thunder that followed disturbed the sleeping lovers and Jamie moved closer to Sean.
Jamie considered rain a friend. It sent his mind into the dark recesses of his heritage where his imagination became unleashed. It was here, in some inexplicable way, that he found inspiration for his paintings, as if the beauty and light his hands brought to canvas could overcome the darkness of his soul. Thunder and lightning were his enemies. They filled him with fear at the memory of his mother dying during one of the bombings of London in the last war. He had seen newsreels of the German Blitz as a teenager and associated lightning with the bright flashes of anti-aircraft fire. Thunder became the terrible sound of bombs as they exploded on the streets and buildings of the city.
The storm that raged over Dublin penetrated Jamie's mind and sent it spiraling into hidden terror. He bolted upright in bed screaming "NO!" as lightning struck again and the house shook with the force of the thunderclap that followed. Sean was instantly alert and took Jamie by the shoulders, shaking him until he was awake.
"Oh, Sean," Jamie cried, "she's dead."
Sean put his arms around Jamie, cradling him gently, and slowly rocked them back and forth as Jamie's body shook and his tears ran down Sean's neck. Love, compassion, and concerned overwhelmed Sean at the pain his lover was feeling. When Jamie could cry no more, Sean tenderly brushed the tears from his love's face and handed him a tissue from the box on the table by the bed.
"Here, lad, blow your nose and I'll go put us on a pot of tea."
Sean slipped on his dressing gown and hurried down the stairs in the darkness. Turning on the kitchen light, he added more wood to the stove and put a kettle of water to boil. He thought about going back to Jamie but dismissed the idea knowing that Jamie would want a little time to compose himself. Sitting in a kitchen chair to wait, Sean leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
His mind sorted through ways that he could help his lover. It hadn't been the storm alone that was causing Jamie such torment. Sean knew that he was also to blame with his careless disregard for Jamie's feelings. Sean possessed an instinct for understanding human nature valuable to him as an author. Three years of living with Jamie had given him a deep knowledge of the gentle and sensitive spirit. He was well aware that tonight's nightmare had been more terrifying than usual, and he knew that it was Jamie's fear of losing one more person he loved that had brought him awake screaming.
Sean mechanically took the whistling kettle from the fire and started the tea brewing. His mind raced through possibilities. One idea after another was considered and dismissed. Sean knew that something had to be done quickly because his own actions, coupled with the stress of Jamie's final year at the university, had the boy teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
An idea was forming in his mind as Jamie entered the kitchen and sat at the small table. Sean saw the strain on his face, the haggard look, the once vivid eyes now a dull blue. He wanted to hold Jamie and say that all would be well, but he could see that his love was barely clinging to reality.
He poured their tea and sat Jamie's cup in front of him. Kneeling down, he took the slender fingers in his own strong hands and gently ran his thumbs across Jamie's knuckles.
"Sean, I'm so sorry," Jamie began.
"Hush, Jamie Love. 'Tis my own fault, it is, and I'm that ashamed of myself." Looking up at Jamie he said, "Look, laddie, ye've got a break from university soon.
Would you like to visit Scotland? We could drop by and see Mrs. Kellogg. She's asked often to see us again. And maybe we could go back to that old ruin that you love so."
At the mention of the ruined castle, Jamie started to pull his hands away, for Sean had only just thrown that in his face.
Sean held on to Jamie's hands. "No, love. Hear me out. I'm sorry that I was so cruel to you. I have a fondness for the old ruin myself. 'Tis where we fell in love, remember?"
"Could we really go? What about your job? You can't just up and leave."
"Don't worry, love. I'll convince the editor at the newspaper that he needs to send me to Scotland to do an article. Maybe I'll finally find an idea for a novel. Your home is thick with history and legends. I haven't had much luck yet writing about Ireland; perhaps Scotland will inspire me."
A soft smile brushed Jamie's lips and he started to relax. "I could do some sketches," he said, liking the idea. "I've almost forgotten how it looks."
Sean drew back laughing. "Forgotten, Jamie Love? Not with that painting you're working on."
He glanced at the clock on the wall over the sink. "I've got to go now. I have to get to the newspaper and start working on old Flynn. Before I'm finished, I'll have him thinking 'twas all his own idea for me to go to Scotland."
Giving Jamie a tender kiss he added, "Don't worry, love. I'll not stray again. I promise."
Two weeks later Mary Kellogg opened the front door of her boarding house in Edinburgh and was surprised to see Sean and Jamie smiling at her. She pulled Jamie to her and held him in her arms.
"Oh, Jamie. Is it really you? Stand back, lad, and let me see you. Ach, ye've grown. You're near being a man now indeed."
Jamie laughed and returned her hug. "I'm twenty-one now, Mrs. Kellogg."
She smiled, kissed him on both cheeks and turned to greet Sean. "So, Jamie's still with you, young rascal. Are ye takin' good care of the bairn? He seems a mite thin."
Sean gave her a hug of his own, for he was fond of Mary Kellogg. "I'm afraid I'm not very good in the kitchen," he said.
"And how's your dear Mother?"
"She passed on last year, God bless her."
"Oh, Sean, I'm so sorry. 'Tis no wonder the two of you are thin. I'll have to see about putting a little meat on both your bones. Will ye be here long?"
They entered the house as they talked and Jamie's former landlady led them to her kitchen. "Sit now. We've haggis for supper, but 'tis not ready yet. I've some cold kidney pie."
As they ate Sean explained, "We're here on holiday. Jamie and I are going to spend some time at the old ruins. He's been studying that hard for his exams that he needs time to relax."
Mary Kellogg was instantly on her feet and began pulling things from her pantry. "Ye'll be needing bread. I've some jam put away, and cans of soup ..." She kept a steady count of foodstuffs as she filled packages with food for the boys. She soon had enough to feed the healthiest of appetites for a month.
"Mrs. Kellogg!" Sean protested, "We'll only be two weeks!"
"Then ye'd best eat hearty, laddies, and stop to see me on the way back with a little more weight on the both of you."
When they had finished their lunch the two bid good bye to Mrs. Kellogg, promising to see her before they went back to Ireland.
Arriving at the castle ruins shortly before sunset, they chose the place where they would set up their sleeping bags and Sean unpacked. "Look, Jamie," he said. "If we eat all that Mrs. Kellogg gave us we'll hardly be able to walk."
The sun set over the hills in the west and stars illuminated the night sky between swiftly approaching clouds. Jamie stood on one of the ramparts of the old castle. His arms rested on the top of the stone wall as he looked out at the countryside. The lights of Edinburgh were barely visible in the distance beyond the rugged hills and meadows filled with heather. A cool breeze smelling of heather and rain blew gently, causing Jamie to feel a chill.
"What kind of man was he?" Sean asked, coming up behind Jamie and putting his arms around his waist.
"Who?"
"The old laird of this castle. What kind of man was he? Was he a kindly laird who provided for his people, or was he a cruel tyrant?"
Jamie leaned back against Sean, enjoying the closeness of his lover. "There are stories of this place. There's even a legend that says one of the early lairds made a pact with the Old Ones who live in the hills. 'Tis said that he gave them his soul in return for true love."
"And did he find that love?"
"Aye, he did." Jamie drew and released a deep breath.
"But he died for it. He loved another man. I really dinna want to talk about it, Sean. 'Tis a verra sad story." He signed. "I'm not wanting sad stories tonight."
Sean lowered his head and carefully kissed the back of Jamie's neck. They hadn't made love since their argument weeks before and Sean wanted to run his hands across Jamie's body and feel him come alive with passion.
"I've a wee idea, laddie," he whispered in Jamie's ear. "You could give face and form to those who lived and died here, and I could write their stories."
A gentle rain began to fall and the two quickly retreated into one of the few rooms of the castle that remained intact after centuries of neglect. Sean tossed a few more twigs on the small fire they had built earlier in the old hearth.
Turning, he found Jamie already sitting by the meager light, his sketch-pad open on his lap. Silently, Sean moved to sit next to Jamie and watched as the image of a kilt-clad man took shape on the bare paper. A face began to emerge, strong and rugged. With a few more strokes of his pencil Jamie had completed his initial sketch. The laird of the castle stood on the rampart where Sean and Jamie had just been. The man stood hands on hips, his legs spread and feet planted firmly in place. His long hair and kilt whipped about him, blown by the wind. Jagged streaks of lightning forked through the sky above his head, illuminating his face.
" 'Tis a grand laird ye've done, Jamie," Sean whispered. He kissed Jamie's neck again, then slowly blew at the ringlets of black hair along his neckline.
Jamie laid the pencil down as Sean nuzzled his left ear and gently nipped his earlobe. A soft whimper escaped from Jamie. Sean stood and reached a hand down. "Come, love," he said, and helped Jamie to his feet.
He stood behind Jamie and pulled him close, back against his own body. Nuzzling Jamie's ear again, Sean reached around him and began to unbutton his shirt. Pulling the shirt away, he ran his hands across Jamie's chest, stopping to caress suddenly hard nipples. Jamie moaned and tried to turn to face Sean.
"Not yet, love" Sean whispered. His hands continued their exploration of Jamie's flesh. When his right hand brushed across the bulge in Jamie's slacks, Jamie's hips thrust forward. Moving his own hips against Jamie's buttocks, Sean opened Jamie's slacks and slid his hand under the waistband of Jamie's underwear.
Fire sang through Jamie's veins at Sean's touch. His knees buckled and he would have fallen if Sean had not been holding him.
When Jamie was steady again, Sean turned him around. With his left hand cupping the back of Jamie's head, Sean kissed him. Jamie opened his mouth and drew Sean's tongue in, needing to feel it brush against his palate.
Sean dropped to his knees. He hooked his fingers in the band of Jamie's briefs and drew Jamie's briefs and slacks to his ankles. Holding Jamie by the hips, he gently kissed the tip of Jamie's penis, licking at the drops of liquid that were forming. Taking the head in his mouth, he began a slow suction.
As Jamie's body began to tremble at the sensation, Sean grasped him firmly by his butt cheeks to provide support. Suddenly, without warning, Sean opened his mouth wider and a thrust of Jamie's hips filled Sean with the length of his lover. He could feel Jamie's reaction in the tightening of his buttocks, the jerk of his cock, the moan that escaped from the pit of Jamie's stomach and filled the room.
Sean knew how sensitive Jamie's body could be, how quick to respond to his touch. He knew that without sex for so long a time Jamie would have no control over himself and would come quickly.
Sean wanted it fast for Jamie this time. He planned to make love to Jamie all night and knew that he would be able to draw Jamie's pleasure out longer each time.
He had to get them back to the level of sexuality that had drawn them together in the beginning. If he could keep Jamie's desire for him alive then he might have enough time to convince Jamie of the sincerity of his love. He might fuck others, but he loved Jamie.
As expected, Jamie climaxed almost immediately. His knees finally gave way and he fell forward with a loud cry. Sean broke the fall, catching Jamie's body with his own. When Sean had them both comfortable, Jamie lay with his head on Sean's shoulder and his breathing slowly returned to normal.
Several times during the following hours the walls of the castle echoed with sounds of passion as the two explored and enjoyed each other. Each gave and received pleasure and love, and they reaffirmed their decision to stay together.
The rising sun shone through the narrow slits in the walls, casting sunbeams into the ancient room. Jamie woke slowly as a shaft of sunlight crossed his eyes. He stretched, yawned, and felt for Sean next to him but Sean was gone. Dressing quickly, he began a search of the ruins. Finally he spotted Sean standing on the rampart.
"Sean!" he shouted, and waved to catch his lover's attention.
Sean waved back and gestured for Jamie to join him. Jamie headed up the narrow stairs that led to the rampart as quickly and carefully as he could, for the rocks that formed the steps were loose in several places. When he reached the top, Sean took him in a firm embrace and kissed him hard.
Turning to face away from the castle Sean said, "Look, laddie, out there. D'ye see?" he asked, pointing toward the distant moor. "It's all there ... and here. Everything we need to start a grand novel. I meant what I said, Jamie Love. I'll write the stories; you do the illustrations. 'Tis a way we can be partners in more than one sense."
Jamie's answer was a kiss that sent Sean's senses reeling.
Epilogue:
Their vacation over, Sean and Jamie were sitting quietly in their home in Dublin. Jamie was diligently working on sketches of the castle while Sean dipped his pen into the inkwell and started to write.
'The Laird'
By Sean O'Leary
Illustrations by James Gordon
Chapter One:
Ian Stewart, young laird of the castle, knelt before a grizzled little man and asked for the impossible.
" 'Twill cost ye'r soul," the man said.
"A price I'll gladly pay to love him."