Author's note: this is my first attempt at erotic fiction. It has turned out to be the beginning of a teenage homosexual love story. I hope you enjoy it.
Warning: this story contains scenes of graphic teenaged sex.
THE LAIRD'S SON
Michael climbed the spiral staircase to the battlements, his footsteps echoing against time worn stone. The battlements and guardroom were his place, the ghosts of his ancient forebears, clan chieftains and warriors all, his only company.
Unlocking the heavy door and stepping into daylight, he paused for a moment, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare. It was a scorching day, more reminiscent of the Mediterranean than Scotland, and his T-shirt clung to his tanned and sweat soaked body emphasising his broad shoulders and chest and well-developed muscles. Rugby and punishing physical training had matured his sixteen-year-old body early and his height added to the illusion. But he was still a boy, the baby soft skin and golden peach fluff standing in testament.
He licked his lips, tasting salt and ran his fingers through his damp, tawny hair. It had been stupid to ride so hard in this heat, stupid. And an hour to cool the gelding down and make sure that he'd taken no harm - stupid! And for what? For jealousy, for the glimpse of a Gypsy's bastard that he'd promised himself he would avoid on his holiday home from boarding school. What was it to him that Jamie had been with a girl, smiling at her as he stroked back a tendril of errant hair from her forehead, and standing so close against her that she must have been able to feel that magnificent bulge in his jeans - what was it to him? It was remnants of a childhood infatuation, that was all - the attraction of opposites, encouraged by the fact that Jamie had never once shown Michael's parents the respect that was their due and had only ever sneered at him. Doesn't every boy want to be a rebel? Doesn't every boy want to keep company with someone who is?
He smiled to himself. Everything was fine now, back in proportion. He pulled his T- shirt free of his breeches and over his head and dropped it at his feet. The riding boots were next to come off and he smiled again, remembering the contortions and fumblings he'd had before he'd thought of bringing up a bootjack. Socks next and yet another smile as he thought of the article he'd read that commented on how ludicrous a man looks standing naked in a pair of socks. Well, he wasn't going to make that mistake.
Realising he was undressing as if for a lover excited him but also made him blush and he hung his head as he undid his flies and skinned the tight breeches down over his taut, muscular buttocks. Removing his white briefs was a much more gauche affair. And standing awkwardly, head lowered and hands inexpertly trying to cover his jutting 7-inch cock, he looked exactly what he was - a shy young virgin.
Still trying to cover himself, although he knew he couldn't possibly be seen this far back on the battlements, he crossed to the rain barrel and reached for the scoop. The water felt wonderful and time and again he poured it over his head and glistening, golden body. He studiously avoided touching his tingling erection and it ached all the more from the lack of attention, the rose pink head peeking from its hood of foreskin in anticipation.
Towelling himself dry, he made his way to the guardroom. He'd first of all decided to furnish the large room as he imagined it would have been in days gone by. A rough oak table and four chairs stood against one lime-washed wall, while a narrow monk's bed was pushed against another, a soldier's chest, containing personal items and changes of clothes, at it's foot. His own archery bow, together with a full quiver of arrows, stood in a corner. The walls themselves were adorned with swords and spears and shields that had been considered unworthy to grace the great hallway of the castle. His later additions were less in keeping and included a massive wooden armchair, in truth more throne than chair, said to have belonged to one of his more infamous ancestors (and which his father hated), and his excuse for spending so much time here - a telescope. The books on ornithology and astronomy piled on the table lending proof to his story.
In reality, this was where he played. A cowed only child, not allowed to mix with the village children, and despising those of his peers that his father thought suitable, he had discovered escape here. Here he would stalk the battlements, boy squire to a Stuart king, his child's heart swelling with love and national pride, or he would stagger in, close to death, bearing the news that would save them all and was nursed back to health by The King himself. As he grew, his fantasies changed and his king would draw him close and teach his little cock the way of men.
It was just a game, though - in real life he dated the girls his father would approve of and if he never ever sought to touch them, it was because he was a gentleman. And if Jamie haunted him, had always haunted him, it was because he desperately wanted to be his friend. He had never brought him into his fantasies, never once thought of him when he touched himself. It was his only rule.
But he was thinking of him now.
Lying on his monk's bed, his knees up and muscular thighs spread, Michael peeled back his foreskin and smeared the oozing precum over his swollen cockhead with a fingertip, shivering with lust.
And Jamie was in the room with him.
It was Jamie's slender hand that was milking his throbbing erection with tortuous slowness, Jamie that was caressing his taut balls and whispering how full he was, how big. It was Jamie's wetted finger that was stroking his perineum. Then, as Michael shuddered, Jamie began to touch his anus and, spitting on his finger again, began to penetrate his virgin sphincter, gently at first, with the same slow rhythm as his cock hand. And then rougher and faster with both hands, until Michael's breathing became ragged and he jerked and arched, spurting his pleasure convulsively time after time.
Michael sat up shaking and raked back his hair. "Jamie," he whispered. "Oh, Jamie. Why won't you look at me anymore? Even your sneers were better than what you do to me now."
It was two days before he returned to the battlements and even then it was only to escape some of his father's fawning houseguests. One of them, a Hooray Henry of the worst sort, would have followed him up to see the view but Michael's father, afraid of heights himself, would not allow anyone to enjoy something he couldn't and put a stop to that idea. Michael himself had often wondered why he had been allowed to commandeer the place until he realised that it had been sanctioned after he had learned that his unimpeachable father tended to fuck the arse off any girl who took his fancy:
"For fuck's sake, Michael. Stop being a baby. I'm a feudal lord. It's expected."
"Yes, father."
"Off you go, then. And Michael..."
"Yes, father?"
"Your mother doesn't need to know about it."
"No, father."
Standing on the battlements now, Michael remembered the incident and was saddened. He didn't really know his mother. She had been plagued with illness when he was a small child and he had been cared for by a succession of nannies (fodder for his father's appetites), and then he'd been dispatched to boarding school when he was seven. He knew she'd fought hard about that, calling it inhuman, which Michael heartily agreed with, but, as always, his father got his way. When he came back for holidays, she had been distant, or perhaps he had, and that's how things had stayed. It was uncomfortable to admit that he didn't want to look at her too closely.
For a while he did nothing but stand on the battlements looking out. The view over open countryside really was stunning. The colours of summer particularly beautiful in the mellow light of the hot evening, but Michael was soon lost in thought and ceased to see it. Coming out of his reverie, he caught a movement in one of the barley fields. The barley was nearly ripe, with only the faintest pale glimmer amongst the rich gold. He frowned and went quickly to the telescope in the guardroom. They'd lost 30 acres of barley to fire last summer and the culprits, probably village boys, were never caught.
The trespasser wasn't in the barley but in the long grass of the hayfield next to it. If he hadn't been lying on a rise, he would have been as hidden as a hare in its form. As it was, Michael could see him well and he swallowed. Jamie had obviously been for a swim in the adjacent loch and he was now dozing in the evening sun. He was lying half on his side, half on his front, his head cradled in his arms. And he was naked.
His lithe, slender body with its exquisitely tight little arse was the most beautiful thing that Michael had ever seen and he ran his eyes over Jamie's body longingly. Michael loved every part of him, the way his damp black hair curled onto the soft nape of his neck, the swells and plains of him, his narrow waist and hips, those superb long legs with their dusting of black down... Jamie was so dark that Michael had expected more hair and he delighted in the sheerness of his beauty.
Jamie moved, drawing up a knee and Michael was offered a glimpse of his taut young balls. Michael rubbed his surging hard-on through his chinos and struggled blindly and one handed to free it from its confines, his other hand steadying the telescope and his eye glued to Jamie's tight buttocks.
He knew he shouldn't be doing this but the thrill of the forbidden made his prick throb even more. He handled himself carefully, playing his excited cock between his thumb and forefinger in a slow easy rhythm. He wanted this to last forever.
Jamie squirmed sensuously, his hips thrusting gently against the grass. He was beginning to turn over when his whole body suddenly tensed. Michael scanned the area but could see no one. Jamie knelt up and then relaxed as a young roe deer came into view. He shifted his position to watch her dart away and Michael gasped. Jamie's cock was huge, 9 inches at least, jutting arrogantly from its nest of black pubic hair and waiting to be worshiped.
Michael's straining rod twitched violently in his hand, electric shocks of pleasure thrilling up and down the engorged shaft. His hand paused and he watched transfixed as, head lowered to look down at himself, his taut balls in one hand and his beautiful long, slim tool in the other, Jamie began to wank.
For a few seconds Michael masturbated furiously, lost to everything but the incredible sensations coursing through his body. Then he groaned and clamped his blazing prick in the vice of his hand. At first he thought he was too late. Wave after wave of searing pleasure broke over his trembling body and he put his hand out to support himself against the wall. But no ejaculation came and he was soon reaching for the telescope again.
Jamie was lying down, knees up and open, his eyes closed and his moist lips parted as he pleasured himself. Michael watched him teasing his cock and felt an answering build up of tension in his own. He still couldn't believe the size of him, he was only sixteen after all.
Jamie fondled his balls, his right hand still moving slowly, retracting his foreskin fully to expose the engorged, glistening glans and then sliding it back up over his oozing cockhead. Michael's pulsing prick was back at full stretch and he began to sweat.
Jamie's left hand moved from his balls and squeezed his hard nipples and then he raised his hand to his mouth and spat, the saliva gleaming on his fingers. He was wanking seriously now, his right hand pumping his weapon and his slender hips thrusting.
Michael began to pant. His tight swollen balls were aching for relief and his prick felt massive. It was so sensitive that he didn't know if it was pleasure he was feeling or pain.
"Jamie!" he cried out.
Jamie's lubricated fingers were tormenting his young arsehole and as his lithe body began to arch and shudder, he drove his middle finger home...
Michael let out a deep feral moan and his hand pounded his blazing cock furiously as pistol shots of boiling spunk splattered him from throat to belly.
When Michael had recovered enough to look again, Jamie was sprawling languidly on his back, his soft wet cock nestling against his thigh and his beautiful lean face in repose. Michael's eyes were drawn to the shadow of deep bruising on his left cheek. He knew beyond doubt how he had come by the injury and he also knew that one day Jamie would retaliate. And then he would leave Strath.
For a long moment Michael gazed at him, at the mussed black hair with its unruly forelock, at the amazing dark brown eyes, which told you all about his passionate nature and shone with a light of rebellion that warned he could never be tamed, never be quelled. His gaze travelled down Jamie's body. The muscles of his shoulders were full and round, his chest muscles, flat and broad, the shadows beneath them as crisp as ink. Michael closed his eyes and drew away; it was too painful. Jamie wasn't just beautiful; he had absolute attraction. He was royalty and he knew it. He didn't need a title.
Michael cleaned up and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. He sponged off the chinos but the shirt was going to have to be dumped. It was stiff with sperm and the maids already had enough to talk about. He was restless and dinner with the kow-towing guests was out. His father wouldn't be pleased but that was tough.
He had nothing planned but his feet took him in the direction of Druid's Wood and, much to his astonishment, to Jamie. He blushed deeply and drew back but Jamie hadn't seen him; he was too busy emptying and resetting his rabbit snares. Michael watched Jamie's deft movements in fascination; the way he kept himself downwind and completely avoided touching the runs to leave no trace of his human smell was obviously the work of a master. Even the gloves he wore to handle the snares would have been steeped in some potion that served the same purpose. Michael was impressed; he couldn't have set a snare to save his life.
He shifted position slightly and a twig cracked under his foot. Jamie froze for a second and then turned sharply. Michael was glued to the spot and just looked at him. Jamie looked horrified and for a moment Michael thought he was going to make a run for it and couldn't understand why.
"They're vermin," Jamie said, standing his ground but looking far from comfortable. "I'm doing you a favour."
Michael had forgotten how low-pitched and soft his voice was; it sent tingles up and down his spine. Then Jamie moistened his lips with his tongue and Michael's cock twitched. He couldn't speak.
Jamie's chin came up but there was no trace of the usual sneer; he looked worried. "What are you going to do?"
Michael was at a complete loss and then it hit him - Jamie was poaching and this was their land. Michael's father hated poachers like poison and always had them charged, and with his standing being what it was there was always a heavy fine, or worse. But even worse than that, Jamie's family lived in a tied cottage and Michael's father would not hesitate in sacking Jamie's stepfather and throwing the whole family onto the street.
Michael had no intention of telling his father about it. Even if it hadn't been Jamie, he would have kept his mouth shut. He was about to say as much when he realised that although Jamie might be grateful, he might also think him weak and Michael couldn't stand the thought of that. It also occurred to him that, in some ways, the Scottish Highlands had changed very little since the dark ages.
"Bit stupid to poach here, wasn't it?" he said non-committally. "Biting the hand that feeds you and all that." He suddenly felt ashamed of his upper-class accent and wished he could change it.
Jamie didn't like being ridiculed and his eyes sparked but he was hardly in a position to argue. "Bloody stupid," he conceded after a moment. "But the land I've got permission on over by Keir is cleaned out. I'm too good," he added flashing his boyish grin to test the water.
Michael was lost, he would have given him anything but Jamie didn't seem to notice.
"Come on, Michael, give me a break. I don't expect you to just forget about it but I can work off the debt, anything you like - that big bastard of a gelding you ride maybe? I know you like just belting about on it but it needs schooled; its jump is bloody awful. I could teach you a few tricks too if you like?"
Michael didn't know what was hitting him hardest, hearing Jamie speak his name, learning that Jamie had watched him ride, or being offered a summer of his company. The "anything you like" didn't bear thinking about. It had already given him a hard-on that was going to make walking awkward. Jamie was looking at him quizzically, waiting for him to speak.
"Please, Michael," he said quietly. "It's not for me - Mum and the wee ones don't deserve what the Laird will do to us."
Michael didn't trust himself to speak. He avoided the earnest eyes and noticed the bruised and swollen cheek again. "Your father did that to you, didn't he?" he asked, gesturing.
Jamie raised his hand to touch it but he still had the gloves on. He took them off and started packing up his things, offering only a tense back view.
Michael knew he had been shown a side of Jamie that no one was ever shown. He also sensed that it had nothing to do with being caught poaching, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.
"Sorry, that was insensitive."
Jamie shrugged. "It doesn't matter. But don't call him my father. He's not my father and you know it as well as I do. The whole of Strath knows it. Just don't give me shit, Michael. Okay?"
He hadn't turned round again, was still fussing with his bags, and Michael ached to take him in his arms and comfort him. It wasn't lust he felt; it was love. He didn't just want Jamie, he wanted him to be happy, and if that meant that he could never, ever touch him as a lover, then that was how it had to be.
"Don't poach on the estate, Jamie, okay? It might not be me who catches you next time."
Jamie turned but Michael couldn't look at him and was already striding away. Jamie didn't try to stop him.
Michael was up on the battlements next morning trying to sort out his feelings when someone knocked at the door. He opened it with some anxiety. No one ever bothered him up here and he feared some emergency, doubly so when he found his mother standing there.
"What's wrong?" he asked urgently.
"Nothing, no problems." She patted his hand. "You have a visitor, that's all."
He immediately thought it must be one of the boys from school and shook his head vehemently. "You didn't say I was in did you?"
"He knows you are darling. He saw you stalking the battlements - his words." Her eyes shone in amusement. "Aren't you going to ask who it is?"
She looked completely different from usual, alive and even mischievous, and he felt totally confused. "One of the boys from school?"
"My poor baby, of course not. I wouldn't disturb you for them." She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek for a second and he felt even more confused.
"It's Jamie," she said and smiled.
"Jamie!"
"Stop panicking, darling," she said, completely misunderstanding his concern. "Your father is out and if Jamie uses the chapel door when he leaves no one will know he's been. No one else knows he's here," she added.
Michael raked his hair back with his fingers. "I don't understand," he said woodenly.
She smiled again. "He waited for me in the green house."
She said it as if it were an every day occurrence and he suddenly thought the worst, but she'd already disappeared and he couldn't question her. The thought of Jamie sleeping with his mother put every other thought out of his head and it was even worse because he could visualise it. When Jamie appeared in the doorway, a minute or so later, he wanted to kill him and he hauled him inside and slammed him against a wall.
"What the fuck?"
"You're screwing my mother, you bastard!"
Jamie smiled. "She told you, then?" he asked and side stepped Michael's punch. "Easy now. It's your future daddy you're dealing with and I might have to spank you."
Michael cursed and lunged at him but blind anger allowed Jamie to dodge and he a belted for the guardroom to put a door between them. Michael was faster than that, though, and Jamie fell to a rugby tackle just inside the doorway. He was laughing his head off as Michael hauled him over and pinned him down.
"You bastard!"
But Jamie was still laughing. "Don't be fucking stupid, you daft big sod." He tried to struggle out from under him but Michael slapped him and then pressed him down harder.
Jamie sobered up fast and looked up at him. "I was joking, Michael. I'm not involved with your mum," he said quietly. "She helps my mum, maybe they help each other, I don't know. Your old man wouldn't approve; the shit my mum married wouldn't either come to that, so I carry messages between them sometimes. Your mum isn't even allowed to answer the phone by herself, the poor bitch. It's always that sodding butler."
Michael pressed him down harder as every emotion he had smashed against each other.
"Christ, Michael. I wouldn't fuck your mum. I couldn't fuck anyone's mum."
Something in Jamie's voice made him realise why. "My father..." He couldn't finish.
Jamie gave as much of a shrug as Michael's weight allowed. "Why not? He fucks everyone who isn't in a position to do anything about it, and Mum was beautiful once." He was trying to appear unconcerned but his eyes betrayed him.
Michael eased his weight and, without thinking about it, stroked Jamie's beautiful face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. You must really hate us."
He shook his head. "Not your mum, she's fabulous." He paused and his eyes became unfocused. "Not you either."
Michael's breathing quickened, his mind now bombarded with sensation, the heat of Jamie's body, the warm musky smell of him, more potent than any after shave, the thudding of his heart against his chest, his swollen cock pulsing against his.
"Jamie," Michael said hoarsely.
But Jamie didn't answer; his dark, unfocused eyes were glazed with pleasure and Michael couldn't rouse him. Jamie moved beneath him rubbing their erections against each other.
"But you like girls," Michael moaned.
"Girls," Jamie said distractedly, and increased the friction. "Christ..."
"Jamie, I'm gay, and I'm in love with you. Stop doing this."
"Aw, Christ," he groaned, not listening.
"Jamie!"
"Aw, fuck. Aw, Christ. Michael!"
Michael groaned and kissed him, groaning again as Jamie's tongue penetrated his mouth. Jamie started to buck, his hands moving to clasp Michael's buttocks. Michael pulled away roughly and knelt up. "Not like this!"
Jamie tried to focus. "Michael!"
Michael bent forward and started to unbutton the flies of Jamie's jeans, and Jamie relaxed back and closed is eyes.
Jamie wasn't wearing any underwear and Michael nearly came when his hot, slick tool sprang against his hand.
Jamie groaned.
Michael gazed at Jamie's beautiful, slender weapon. He took it in his hand and gently drew back the foreskin to reveal the engorged, shiny glans. A tear of precum oozed out and Michael bent his head and licked it off. Jamie moaned and Michael licked for a moment more and then engulfed the head in his mouth, sucking gently while continuing to use his tongue. He loved taste and feel of it and the strong musk of Jamie's groin was driving him wild. He couldn't believe that Jamie was actually letting this happen.
"Suck me," Jamie moaned. "Suck me properly!"
Michael wanted to but he wanted to feel Jamie inside him even more and he knew he might never have another chance.
He stopped and Jamie groaned.
"Not like this," Michael told him and tugged at Jamie's sweatshirt, wanting it off, wanting to be able to look down at his naked body, but he was too excited to make much progress.
Jamie opened his eyes and pushed him away. Then he sat up and pulled the sweatshirt over his head and started to pull his jeans down. Michael needed no urging. He had never stripped so fast in his life.
"Hurry up!" Jamie hissed.
"You're too big," Michael told him as he searched in the chest frantically, pulling clothes out onto the floor. "I need some jelly."
"Suck it."
"No."
He found what he was looking for and knelt over Jamie. Jamie grasped him behind the neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
"Suck it."
"No. I want you inside me."
Jamie's eyes widened and his pupils flared. "You're going to let me fuck you?"
"What did you think the gel was for?"
"Aw, Christ!" He grabbed the jelly and started lubricating his tool. "Lean over the bed."
"I want to straddle you."
"Behave yourself! Lean over the fucking bed."
Michael hesitated. "I'm a virgin," he said and blushed.
Jamie was struggling out of his boots and jeans but stopped to look at him. "I'll be gentle with you," he said and gave an evil grin. Then he was on his feet and pulling Michael up too.
Jamie was the shorter, 5' 9" to Michael's 6' 1", and he had to angle Michael's head down to kiss him. Michael shivered in pleasure as the hot, supple tongue once again invaded his mouth. He hadn't expected this, when Jamie had been rubbing himself to orgasm, yes, but not now. He knew that straight boys would, in the right circumstances, allow themselves to be sucked and would fuck without compunction, but intimacy was out. He knew too that there was often anger after the act was over and that thought made him tense up.
"Easy, Michael," Jamie said gently and began to run his hands over Michael's body. "Come on, lie on the bed."
Jamie made him lie on his back and knelt between his drawn up knees, looking down at him. Michael's cock jerked and Jamie gave another evil grin.
"Where do you want me to touch you, Michael?" He teased, and traced Michael's lips with a finger. "Here?" He stooped and kissed him and Michael tried to pull him down.
"Uh, uh." Jamie broke the kiss and wagged a finger. He ran his hands over Michael's muscular chest and began to play with his hard nipples. "Here?" Jamie shifted position and began to suck each in turn. Michael groaned and Jamie stopped and began to snake his tongue down Michael's belly. He stopped at his navel and circled it with his finger.
"Here?" He probed it with his hot tongue for a moment and then began to work his way down Michael's lower belly and on to his trembling thighs.
"Here?" he asked and began to lick the soft inner thighs, leaving trails of fire.
"Please," Michael whimpered. "Oh, God. Please!"
Jamie moved onto his swollen balls, fondling them for a moment before attending to them with his tongue. He drew one into his mouth and sucked on it gently while his hand reached for Michael's aching erection and began a slow wank.
"Please!"
And at last Jamie's hot, young mouth was on his cock. Michael couldn't believe the sensations as Jamie's tongued up and down his pulsing shaft and he was moaning freely, his hands gripping the sheets. Jamie stopped and Michael groaned.
"Don't stop!"
Jamie was unmoved. "Turn over."
"Jamie!"
"You need a good seeing to, and I'm going to give you one. Up on your Knees!"
Jamie positioned himself and pushed Michael's shoulders down roughly. Michael heard the squelch as Jamie squeezed some more jelly from the tube. Jamie pulled his buttocks apart and Michael's cock twitched again as he felt the cool air on his virgin hole.
"I'm looking at you, Michael. I'm looking right at your tight little arsehole. And I'm going to watch my cock working it."
Michael gasped and gasped again as Jamie's gelled finger touched his puckered sphincter and lubricating it sensually began to penetrate him. Jamie slid his finger in and out of Michael's arse and soon he was using two fingers.
"Do you like this, Michael?" Jamie whispered. "Do you like me buggering you like this? Do you do it to yourself and think about me?"
Michael groaned and tried to reach for his prick to masturbate but Jamie withdrew his fingers and Michael felt his hot tool sliding up and down his crack.
"Oh, God!" he moaned and grabbed the spars of the headboard as Jamie's slick weapon began to push against his arsehole.
Michael felt searing pain as, inch by slow inch, Jamie worked his weapon in and he gritted his teeth in the effort not to cry out. He didn't think he was going to be able to take it. Then he felt Jamie's crotch and balls hard against him. Jamie stopped moving and reached under Michael's flat belly to play with his prick. Michael began to feel the thrills building up again and the feeling of Jamie's hard, hot cock filling his arse intensified his pleasure. He moaned and squirmed against him, the pain a thing of the past. Jamie played with him for a little longer before he straightened up and then, with his hands on Michael's hips, he began to slowly thrust in and out of his tight, young hole.
The pleasure coursing through Michael's body was incredible and he began to groan and pant. Jamie's thrusts became harder, and then he was really fucking him, driving his weapon home to the hilt, pulling back, and ramming again. Jamie moaned and bucked wildly, his fingers digging in to Michael's haunches, and then Michael felt the weapon inside him throb and jerk as it pumped hot sperm into his bowels.
"Oh, God!" Michael cried out as his own orgasm hit him. "Aah, aah, aah. Aaaahhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
After a few moments, Jamie eased himself out and as they both collapsed onto the come soaked sheets, Jamie grinned at him and Michael was able to take him in his arms at last.