Date: Sun, 24 Nov 2002 22:24:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Corrinne S <mdaigle@prodigy.net>
Subject: Sean and Jamie - Part Four

Sean and Jamie - Part Four, 1957

By M.C. Gordon

Part four in a series about two fictional lovers, Sean
O'Leary and James Gordon.  All of the Sean and 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:

James Gordon was occasionally in a dark mood, the
result of his being a Scot.  This time his heritage
was not what had him in a dark mood.  This time it was
because he'd had a particularly bad argument the night
before with his lover, Sean O'Leary.

Sean had been in Spain for three months doing research
for a novel he was planning to write.  James, who was
known to his friends as Jamie, had spent the time
working on a mural he had been commissioned to do for
one of the local Dublin art patrons.  The theme he had
to deal with was monumental in scope and would cover
three interior walls of an old cathedral that was
being renovated.  He was to paint the victory of the
Irish over the Vikings at the Battle of Clonart.

Three months was a long time for Jamie to be alone.
Since Sean had convinced him to move to Dublin eight
years earlier, Jamie had not had sex with another man.
 Before meeting Sean, Jamie had been quite active in
the deeply hidden homosexual community of Edinburgh.
Once he fell in love with Sean, Jamie wanted no other
man.  So Jamie buried himself in his work.  Like
Michaelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine
Chapel, he lived at the cathedral.  He slept only when
his body drove him to.  Working was easier than
thinking about Sean, for Jamie knew that Sean would
have found himself a sweet young Spaniard to share his
bed at night.

Jamie had long ago accepted Sean's philandering.  Sean
was one who sought sexual pleasure where he could find
it.  It was one of the things they had agreed upon
early in their relationship.  Jamie knew that Sean
loved him.  Sean's sexual proclivity was something he
accepted.  What bothered him was when Sean would come
home from a particularly enjoyable time and describe
it to him in great detail.

That had been the problem last night, Sean's first
night home from Spain.  Sean had gone on endlessly
with, "Esteban this," and "Esteban that," until Jamie
could take it no longer.  His Scot temper flared to
the surface.  "Will ye stop then, Sean, about wee
Esteban.  I canna take any more of it.  'Tis one thing
that ye choose to pleasure others than me, but that ye
choose to tell me how many times and how many ways the
two of you fucked I dinna want to hear!"

Jamie stormed out of the house the two had shared
alone since Sean's before mother had died.  He spent
the night concentrating on his painting and felt a
deep sense of betrayal.

Leaving the wall he had been working on for months, he
now concentrated on the death of the High King of
Ireland.  King Brian was kneeling deep in prayer,
oblivious to the fact that three Viking were in his
tent with their swords raised high to kill him.  The
mural that would go next to this one was the death of
one of Brian's allies, Tadgh Mor O'Kelly.  Jamie
intended to paint the legendary creature said to have
risen from the sea to guard his dead body.  He could
see it in his mind.  Legend said it had the head of a
fox, chest of an elephant, mane of a horse, forelegs
of an eagle, body and hind legs of a hound, and the
tail of a lion.

He worked until his fingers became stiff from use and
the cold, damp Irish night.  Realizing that it was
futile to continue, he finally collapsed on the pallet
he used as a bed and cried himself to sleep.

Sean spent a sleepless night.  He had been stunned
when Jamie left the house.  Stun gave way to worry as
the hours passed and Jamie didn't return.  Sean
thought back over their argument with a guilt-ridden
conscience.  Jamie had tried to tell him about the
work he was doing but Sean had brushed it off as
insignificant, something they could talk all about
later.  All he wanted was to make love to Jamie but he
had made the mistake of mentioning Esteban.

He had spent the greater part of three months with a
beautiful young Spaniard named Esteban Cervantes.  The
nineteen-year-old had captured his imagination.
Esteban was Castillian.  His blonde hair, green eyes,
and well-muscled body had been more than Sean could
resist.  But, even when he was fucking Esteban, it was
Jamie's sapphire blue eyes that he saw.

Sean hadn't intended to hurt Jamie.  After long
absences he tended to forget just how sensitive Jamie
was, although it was one of the things he cherished
the most about his lover.  Jamie was an artist, a poet
at heart; and carried within himself a gentle soul
that was easily bruised.

When Jamie hadn't returned home by two a.m., Sean
decided to look for him.  He pounded on the doors of
mutual friends, waking them to see if Jamie had sought
shelter with any of them for the night.  No one had
seen Jamie for weeks.

Sean spent the next two days searching for Jamie but
he hadn't been to any of the places they normally
went.  It wasn't like Jamie to just disappear.  It had
been years since Jamie had been anyplace other than in
bed with Sean at night, and Sean was fearful that
something had happened to him.  He checked the
hospital and police station.  There was still no sign
on Jamie.

He tried working on the notes for his novel but found
that he could not escape his growing fear that
something terrible had happened.  For the first time
since he had met Jamie, Sean cried himself to sleep.
He whispered over and over again, "Jamie Love, please
come home.  Please, come home."

The morning of the third day found Sean sitting at the
small wooden table in the kitchen.  His eyes were
puffed and red from crying and lack of sleep.  He sat
with elbows propped on the table, his face buried in
his hands.  The cup of tea in front of him had grown
cold.  His heart was heavy with painful thoughts.
'How can I live without Jamie?"  A cold realization
set in; he couldn't live without Jamie, not anymore.

Hearing the front door open, Sean was on his feet in
an instant.  Walking, almost running, he hurried into
the living room to see Jamie heading up the stairs.
Relief flooded over him, then gratitude.  He bounded
up the stairs behind Jamie.  Entering their bedroom,
he saw Jamie pulling out a clean change of clothing.

"Where've you been then, Lad?  I've been that
worried."

He wasn't prepared for the look Jamie gave him.  There
was no sign of love or anger in Jamie's eyes, only
pain.  His face was drawn and tired, his clothing
rumpled and paint stained.

Jamie picked up the clothing and started to pass Sean.
 Sean tried to catch Jamie by the arm and hold him.
Jamie pulled away from Sean's touch.

"Dinna touch me, Sean," he said in a cold, hard voice.
 "Go back to Spain, back to wee Esteban."

"I don't want him, Jamie.  I want you.  I love you."

"Love me?  Ye can say that to me?  To my face?  Oh,
Sean.  Do ye ken how it hurt when ye held me in your
arms and told me about him?  Do ye?  No!  Ye dinna
ken!"

Sean tried again to take Jamie and hold him but the
eyes grew cold.  "Leave me be, Sean."

As Jamie started down the stairs Sean asked, "What are
you going to do?"

"Ah, Sean, as if ye care."  Jamie's voice carried no
anger.  It was void of any emotion, like his eyes.
"But, if ye must know, I came to bath and change.
Then I'm back to work."

Sean stared at his lover in disbelief.  "Is that where
you've been?  Working?  I've turned Dublin from top to
bottom looking for you!"

In a voice as cold as ice Jamie replied, "If ye'd
shown a wee bit of interest in me, Sean, in what I do,
ye'd have known that I was hardly a breath away.
Instead ye chose to regale me with stories of your
latest conquest.

Jamie let go a long sigh.  "I know we agreed that ye
could have other lovers.  'Twas a small price to pay,
but this time ye've gone too far."

"Where are you working?" Sean asked in a subdued
voice.

"At the cathedral two blocks from here."

Sean closed his eyes and let his head fall back.  In
the past two days he had passed the cathedral a dozen
times.  He'd even thought of going in and kneeling
down in prayer for Jamie's safe return to him.

"Jamie, please.  Don't go.  I'm sorry that I hurt you.
 I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Jamie opened the door.  "Not this time, Sean.  Ye made
this bed by yourself, ye can sleep in it that way."

Sean stared in dismay as Jamie walked out the door and
closed it behind himself.  He drank the last of his
cold tea.  Time ... he would give Jamie time.

Jamie bathed in the old tub that they used in the
bathhouse in back of the house where they lived.  His
anger had passed.  All he wanted was to hold Sean,
love him.  He wanted to take Sean in his mouth and
suck him until he would be useless as a lover for a
week.  He wanted to look into Sean's eyes as his cock
brushed against his prostate.  He wanted Sean.  But
Sean had hurt him too many times.  Always before he
had kept silent.  This time he was determined not to
give in to his desire.  Sean had to know how he felt.

As he finished bathing, he thought of how much he
loved and needed Sean.  His hand went to his penis.
He closed his eyes and remembered Sean loving him.  In
frustration he clenched his hand around himself and
the thought of Sean's loving overcame everything.

He stroked himself, slowly at first.  As memories of
Sean's lovemaking returned to him, he stroked faster
and harder.  He wouldn't tell Sean, give him the
satisfaction of knowing.  Thinking of Sean he
exploded, releasing his cum into the bath water.
Dressing quickly, Jamie quietly left, not letting Sean
know that he was leaving.

Sean waited two days for Jamie to return home.  He
managed to get some work done on the notes for his
novel.  He sorted through some of the sketches he'd
made.  He wasn't an artist, but did well enough with
landscapes that he could describe locations in his
writing.  Jamie always did the illustrations for his
books.

Finally, Sean could stand it no longer.  He had to
make things right with Jamie.  Slipping on a coat, for
the night air was cold, he walked the two blocks to
the cathedral and slipped in quietly.  Jamie glanced
at him as he entered, but didn't acknowledge his
presence.  Sean knew it was Jamie's way of saying that
he was still upset.

Sean looked in wonder at the work Jamie had done thus
far.  Nearly one entire wall was completed, showing
Brian Boru leading the armies of Ireland to the plain
of Clonart on April 23, 1014.  King Brian was a frail
old man at the time but Jamie's Brian showed the inner
strength of the man who wanted Ireland free for the
Irish.  Sean had never seen Jamie do work quite like
this before.  Each brush stroke was filled with
passion and life.

Sean stood quietly by the door and watched as Jamie
stretched his fingers and blew hot breath across them.
 The cold of the Irish night was made worse by the
stone walls of the old cathedral and Sean could see
his own breath.  Jamie looked as if he hadn't slept at
all these last two days.  He was pale and haggard.
His hands trembled slightly.

Sean walked to Jamie, took the brush from his and, and
pulled Jamie to himself in a tender embrace.  "Oh,
Jamie Love, look at you.  You've not slept and you
probably haven't eaten.  Let me take you home now,
Jamie."

Jamie leaned into his lover's embrace.  His
tear-filled blue eyes looked at Sean as he whispered,
"I do love you."

Sean kissed Jamie gently on his lips and said, "I
know, love.  Now, let's go home."

Sean helped Jamie put on his coat.  They turned off
the light, locked the door, and headed home.  It was
starting to rain.

Sean put a kettle on to make Jamie a cup of tea.  He
settled Jamie in front of the warm fireplace and
placed a warm woolen blanket in the plaid of Clan
Gordon around Jamie's shoulders.  Taking Jamie's hands
in his own, he gently rubbed them to give them warmth.
 The slender fingers were swollen and cold.

While Jamie sipped his tea, Sean brought the tub into
the kitchen and filled it with hot water.  He
undressed his lover, for Jamie's hands were still
trembling.  Leading him to the bath, Sean helped him
into the tub.  Lathering a rag, Sean gently washed his
love.

Jamie relaxed in the hot water.  Sean massaged the
aching muscles in his back, neck, and arms.  The heat
helped to ease the cramping in his hands.  He flexed
his fingers in the water, grateful for the warmth and
the comforting touch of Sean's hands.  The red paint
of Brian's blood turned the water a pale pink.

When the water started to cool, Sean helped Jamie into
his robe and led him upstairs to their bedroom.
Tucking Jamie into bed he said, "I'll be right back.
I've but a few things to do downstairs.

Jamie relaxed into the sheets and closed his eyes.  It
had not been his intent to manipulate Sean; he only
wanted Sean to see how much he had hurt him.  He had
worked out his anger and pain on the cathedral walls.
He could hear Sean moving about, emptying the water
from the tub.  Sean joined him shortly, pressing his
warm body against him and Jamie was soon asleep.

When Sean woke the next morning Jamie was curled
around him.  His head was on Sean's shoulder.  One leg
was resting between Sean's.  Sean could feel the
beating of Jamie's heart.

He thought Jamie was still sleeping and was startled
to hear him ask, "Did he love you?"

"Who?"

"Esteban.  Did he love you?"

"I don't know, perhaps."

"One of these days, Sean, you'll hurt someone other
than just me."

"Jamie, please, let's not argue again."

"I'm not arguing.  Sometimes ye dinna think about
others.  'Tis something ye need to know about
yourself."

"You're right, and I am sorry."  Sean kissed Jamie.  A
sob broke free as he said, "I thought I'd lost you."
The tears ran freely down Sean's cheeks.  "Oh, Jamie,
Jamie my love, I can't bear the thought of living
without you!"

Sean pulled Jamie as close to himself as he could.
Jamie's hands, partially recovered, brushed away
Sean's tears.  Lifting himself, he kissed Sean.

With his head back on Sean's shoulder Jamie began
trailing lazy circles around Sean's nipples.  The pale
nubs became puckered and hard as Jamie caressed them.
Sean rolled them both over, his body covering that of
his lover.

"Are you trying to seduce me then, Jamie my love?"

" 'Twas you who first seduced me, Sean, that day at
the old ruins."

"Oh, no, Jamie.  You took a bit too long in wrapping
yourself in the blanket.  And then you fluttered those
long, dark lashes of yours at me.  You took my heart
that day, Jamie."

Jamie sighed deeply and pulled Sean back for another
kiss.  His fingers twined themselves in the locks of
Sean's dark auburn hair and one hand moved down to
caresses the back of Sean's neck.  They kissed for
several moments, their tongues gliding in and out of
each other's mouths.  Lovers for eight years, there
was no need for words between them.

Sean raised his body and Jamie lifted his knees to his
shoulders.  Sean reached for the lubricant on the
table and coated himself before entering Jamie's body.
 He made love to Jamie with a gentle passion.  Always,
with Jamie, loving was sweet and tender.

At the feel of naked flesh wrapped around naked flesh
after so long a time, Sean knew that it would not last
long.  He leaned forward, raising Jamie's knees to his
shoulders, and kissed him.  As he thrust into his
lover his body glided across Jamie's cock.  With his
face buried against Jamie's neck Sean reached his
climax, taking Jamie with him.

As they lay together in each other's arms Jamie asked,
"How long will ye be home, Sean?"

Jamie knew his Sean well.  He knew that Sean would
travel again one day for research for another novel
and that Sean would find another to keep him company
on lonely nights.  Perhaps the next time Sean would
remember these past few days and not mention that
lover to him.

"Oh, Jamie Love, I think this novel will take at least
two years, maybe longer.  And, Jamie, when I do go off
to research another story, I won't even ask the lad
his name."

Written in 2000

Comments to

quasito_cat@hotmail.com