Date: Wed, 20 Nov 2002 21:05:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Corrinne S <mdaigle@prodigy.net>
Subject: Sean and Jamie - Part Two

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."