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
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