Lairds Son

By Jamie Scott

Published on Nov 15, 1999

Gay

Author's note: this is part two of a love story between two 16-year-old Scottish boys. Erotic fiction is brand new to me and I hope that this is okay. Many thanks to everyone who e-mailed me with encouragement.

Warning: this story contains scenes of graphic teenaged sex.

THE LAIRD'S SON Part Two

Jamie slept while Michael watched over him. Shafts of sunlight from the arrow slit windows played on their young bodies and, in this setting, it was easy for Michael to indulge in the fantasy that they had travelled back in time and that Jamie was a young Celtic king. He certainly looked the part. Even flushed with sleep, his beautiful face soft, he was of a nobility that Michael, with all his legitimate claims on a title, felt he could never hope to match.

"I love you," he told him in his mind and smoothed back his black forelock.

Jamie stirred and stretched, his lithe perfect body arching sensually. Michael felt a stab of panic, not quite knowing how he was supposed to react. Jamie had fallen asleep after they had made love and they hadn't yet spoken. The sex had been incredible and Jamie had obviously known what he was doing, but Michael had seen him with the village girls often enough to still be unsure about his sexuality. He knew that the straight boys at his all-male boarding school fucked other boys with a will, but if anyone had called them gay there would have been trouble.

Jamie opened his eyes and smiled lazily. "What time is it?" he asked and yawned.

"Past twelve, lunch time."

"You'd better feed me, then." Jamie grinned at him, and moistened his lips with his tongue before kicking off the sheet that was draped over their lower bodies. Michael's cock twitched and began to swell and Jamie shifted to reveal his own erection.

"You're fucking huge," Michael replied, unable to take his eyes off Jamie's jutting 9- inch weapon.

"Runs in the family. Come on, Michael. I want your cock." He reached down and fondled him, skinning back his foreskin, and Michael shuddered.

"Not like that," Jamie told him as Michael moved to position himself so they could suck each other. "I'm farther on than you are." He flashed his wicked grin. "Been playing dead while I thought about what I was going to do to you."

Michael blushed and kneeled up, his hands instinctively seeking to cover his surging erection.

"Christ, I want you," Jamie said huskily and, bunching the pillows behind his head, pulled Michael up to straddle his chest.

The first touch of Jamie's supple tongue on the tip of his glans shot a jolt of current through his body and he gasped and knelt forward, one hand out to steady himself against the wall behind the bed as he fed his rigid prick into Jamie's soft warm mouth. Jamie's tongue ran circles around his cockhead and over its tip; one slim hand wanking the shaft slowly while the other stroked and fondled his swollen balls.

"Oh, fuck!" Michael moaned and thrust forward.

For a moment, Jamie resisted, clamping the head of his prick in his lips and holding him back with his hand. Then he relaxed and Michael thrust involuntarily, shuddering with pleasure as his young cock invaded Jamie's mouth.

"Oh, shit," Michael groaned again as Jamie sucked and tongued his aching tool. His prick was still only half way inside Jamie's mouth and he pulled back and thrust again gently, shaking with the effort of holding back. He couldn't believe how incredible it felt to slide his slick young tool in and out of another boy's mouth and he wanted to grasp Jamie behind the head and really give it to him.

Jamie gripped his arm and he started to withdraw, but Jamie gripped him again and shook his head slightly, keeping Michael's prick firmly in his mouth. Then he shifted position, pushing his left arm between Michael's legs so he could reach his own cock and bringing his right hand round to grasp Michael's tense buttocks.

Michael looked down at him and he nodded and closed his eyes. Michael held Jamie's head and pushed forward slowly. At first there was resistance and then something seemed to give and he felt his straining rod glide down Jamie's throat.

"Oh, God," he groaned. "Oh, fuck..." He pulled out a little and slid back down. "Oh, shit, please..."

Jamie urged him forward with his hand and Michael closed his eyes and began to thrust. He tried to take it slowly but the feelings were too intense and he was soon out of control and fucking furiously, his rigid prick pistoning in and out of Jamie's willing mouth. His breathing became ragged and his whole being was centred on the exquisite sensations thrilling up and down his burning cock.

"Oh, God!" he sobbed and suddenly a lightening bolt of intense pleasure hit him as Jamie rammed a finger into his arsehole, and he plunged wildly and began to pump his seed down Jamie's hot throat.

"Aaaahhhh!!" he cried out. But Jamie was still working his arsehole and he was still coming, still plunging and squirting. Jamie groaned and Michael felt him shudder and arch up beneath him as he splattered his back with spurt after spurt of hot spunk.

Michael withdrew shakily, afraid now that he had hurt him and sure that what had happened wasn't what Jamie had intended.

"Are you all right?" Michael asked in concern. Jamie grunted and turned over to sprawl on his belly, his lithe body glistening with sweat.

"Can I get you anything?" Michael persisted.

Jamie turned his head and squinted up at him. "A bigger bed, but you can come back to this one since it's all we've got."

"Are you sure I can't get you anything? A drink, maybe?"

"For fuck's sake, Michael! Calm down, will you? This is supposed to be the relaxing post-coital fag bit."

"Would you like a cigarette?"

Michael was standing beside the bed and Jamie ignored the question and began a lazy appraisal of his muscular young body, a half smile forming on his lips. Michael started to relax and breathed deeply. Once again, he couldn't believe this was happening. Jamie was a loner and the other village boys treated him with respect - earned respect.

Michael looked at his bruised cheek again and wondered why he had let his stepfather get away with it for so long.

"Come on, big man. Stop gawping. I've got to go in a minute," Jamie told him and shifted position on the narrow bed to make room. Michael lay down on the edge of the bed tentatively and Jamie pulled him across and then pushed him onto his back.

"Jamie..."

Jamie shook his head and propped himself up on an elbow before running his free hand over Michael's broad chest and flat muscular belly with an easy assurance that belied his sixteen years. "I don't have the time, big man, not to talk, not to fuck," he said, watching his hand as it stroked. "I've got an afternoon's work up at Lithy and if I don't turn up, old Baxter will spread the word and nobody will employ me." He traced Michael's lips with his finger and then leaned over to kiss him, moving his hand down to fondle his growing cock at the same time.

Michael put his arms round him but he shrugged him off. "Got to go," he said and gave Michael's prick a last squeeze as he got out of bed.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"The state of farming? Bad is an understatement. I'm lucky to get work at all. Nobody's hiring."

"You should have stayed in school."

Jamie's eyes sparked. "Back off, Michael."

"Sorry." He watched Jamie wash, using the ewer and basin that was on the table, and his prick stiffened up some more.

"Leave that alone or you'll go blind," Jamie told him and pulled his jeans on and buttoned up his flies. The sweatshirt came next, followed by socks and boots and Michael continued to watch, idly playing with his prick.

"You could get a job here," Michael told him.

"Behave yourself! I go out the way I came in, through the chapel, right?"

Michael nodded and was suddenly worried. "I am going to see you again, yes?"

"Count on it."

"Tonight?"

Jamie finished tying his bootlaces and looked up. "No can do."

Michael sat up. "What are you doing tonight?"

Jamie raised his eyebrows at the tone. "Don't get possessive, big man," he warned and strode out onto the battlements. Michael swung out of bed and belted after him, his cock going down fast.

"Jamie!"

Jamie turned and grinned at him. "Tomorrow night, don't know when - late. Leave the doors open for me."

And with that, he was gone.

Michael stood watching the closed door for a long moment. There was too much to think about and in the end he went back to the bed and slept, wrapped securely in the pungent smell of their union.

Needing to be able to talk about Jamie, even if it was only chit-chat, Michael sought out his mother in the greenhouse the next morning. She smiled at him brilliantly and asked if he would move some trays of seedlings.

"Jamie said you were friendly with his mother," he opened.

"Even before she worked here, darling," she agreed.

Michael frowned. He couldn't remember Kathy MacLaren ever having worked at the castle.

"You were very small," she said noticing. "And she didn't work here very long."

Michael knew exactly why she had been sacked - his father never kept past infidelities around. He looked down at the paved floor, embarrassed as he always was when faced with this. He knew his mother knew about his father's behaviour but it was never acknowledged.

"I'm really pleased that you and Jamie seem to have finally become friends," she said brightly, steering them both out of dark water. "I think you'll be good for each other."

Michael had a sudden vision of Jamie deep-throating his cock and had to struggle not to react.

"It's a pity he's the only boy in his family. I always thought he'd be good with a younger brother."

Michael got that vision too and choked.

"Are you all right, darling?" she asked in concern, patting his back.

"Fine." He cleared his throat. "Swallowed a frog in my throat." That got to him too and he coughed again and realised he was going to have to get out of there. Then he remembered Jamie's comment that the size of his cock was a family trait and was puzzled. As far as Michael knew, Jamie had no male relatives he could compare with.

"Jamie's grandfather died in a farming accident before he was born, didn't he?" he asked.

She looked slightly confused at the question but nodded. "When Kathy was a little girl, actually. Where did you hear about it?"

"The maids are always talking about Jamie," he said, pleased that he didn't sound jealous.

"Ah, I see," she said and turned back to her seedlings. "Well, he is very beautiful, darling. And women always go for that dark, moody type. Take his father," she continued. "Same sort of looks. The village women fell for him in droves. Frankly speaking, it was luck more than good judgement that it was only Kathy who was left holding a baby. He was utterly bloody to Kathy," she added feelingly and wiped some loose soil from her hands.

"But Jamie never met his father, did he?"

She turned and looked at him. "Actually, he did, although it's not common knowledge. He met him last year. He found out where he was somehow and went to see him. Kathy didn't know anything about it until he came back. She thought he was staying with friends." She paused and looked extremely uncomfortable. "Jamie brought money back for his mother," she said finally.

"You mean Jamie made his father give her money?" Michael wished he hadn't said it, had never led her in this direction in the first place. That his mother accepted, even liked, the idea of him and Jamie being friends had been a surprise, but he was counting on her as an ally now, and he didn't want her to start doubting the prudence of encouraging their relationship.

"Kathy doesn't know what happened," she said quietly. "If Jamie doesn't want to talk about something then he won't." She met his eyes. "I like Jamie very much, Michael, very much. I know there's a dark side to his nature but I also know that it's never turned on people who don't deserve it. It isn't his fault that he was forced to grow-up as quickly as he has."

Michael hugged her impulsively and realised with a huge pang of regret that it was something he had never done before. "You're great. Did you know that?"

She broke away from his arms gently, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Michael," she called after him as he left. He turned round and she looked as if she wished she hadn't spoken. "It's just..." She paused. "Your happy, Michael. Happier than I've ever seen you..."

"But?"

She looked at the floor. "Don't smother Jamie with your friendship. If you do he'll kick against the traces and you'll lose him."

There were all sorts of things that sprang into Michael's mind to ask but his mother's use of the word "friendship" had sounded too much like "love" and he couldn't handle the connotations. She looked up and he smiled at her.

"Thanks, Mum," he said, and she nodded gently and smiled back.

Candlelight flickered against the lime-washed guardroom walls. There was food on laid out on the oak table, French bread, butter, chicken, salad, cheese and fruit. There was wine too, red and white, and beer. Michael sat on the bed and looked at it. He had been in the same position for the last hour and a half. It was after one in the morning and he knew Jamie wasn't coming, had known in his heart all day.

He had seen him in the village that morning, leaning against a wall and looking bored while a couple of the older village lads, 18/19 year olds, vied with each other to win his attention.

And Michael had crossed the road to join him without thinking.

The younger of the two lads worked on Michael's father's estate and was immediately silent, but the older one sneered:

"What the fuck do you want?" he asked and glanced at Jamie for approval, but Jamie simply yawned and totally ignored Michael.

"I... Em... You don't have the correct time, by any chance?" Michael asked lamely. "I think my watch is a little out."

The younger lad supplied the information and Michael thanked him and moved away quickly, his face blazing.

"Fucking poof," the older lad said loudly, obviously pleased with himself. "They're all fucking poofs, that lot. And did you hear the accent on him? He doesn't even sound like a Scot..."

Michael worried about it for the rest of the afternoon, cursing himself continually, and trying to talk himself into believing it wouldn't put Jamie off. But he knew it would. It wasn't anything the lad had said; there was nothing new in that, it was the indiscretion.

He massaged his eyes and sighed. He could go downstairs to bed or he could sleep up here, a common enough occurrence. He pulled his shoes and socks off and stretched out on top of the bed too desolate to undress further.

He dreamt Jamie was kissing him and he kissed back wholeheartedly opening his mouth for his invading tongue and bringing his arms up to clasp his lean, hard body - "Shit!"

Jamie laughed and stood up. "Good morning, sweet prince."

"What time is it?" Michael asked, raking his hair back and sitting up in confusion.

"Haven't you had your watch fixed yet?" Jamie asked, amused.

"Jamie, I'm sorry about this morning. It won't happen again. I didn't think."

Jamie shrugged it off. "Is that lot for eating, or is it just there to look good?"

"For eating, of course. In case you were hungry." He raked his hair back again, totally flustered. "I didn't know what you drank. There's whisky too."

"Michael," Jamie interrupted him. "You're at it again. Calm down, will you? I don't bite." He ran his eyes over Michael's body and flashed his evil grin. "Okay, I bite sometimes."

Michael's cock jumped and he opened his legs to let Jamie look.

"Nice trousers," Jamie commented. "Tight."

He went to the table and began helping himself to some food. Michael looked at his watch - it was half past two.

"A bitch of a calving," Jamie explained, "and then I went home to take a shower." He smiled and looked round the guardroom. "Since there's no plumbing in your house." He busied himself with the food again and Michael studied him. The candlelight suited him, made his dark eyes even bigger and defined his high cheekbones. Hell, everything suited him, Michael thought.

He pulled a chair round for himself and began to eat. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

"You don't need to," Michael said in delight. "I brought up a flask."

Jamie laughed at him. "Aren't you eating?"

"I had dinner," he said, refraining from commenting that it was the middle of the night. "My father had guests."

"Which explains the posh clothes. Black," he gestured at the coffee.

Michael began to be embarrassed about the expensive white shirt and tan trousers but Jamie was talking again. "Doesn't your old man mind you spending so much time up here?"

"As long as I'm there to be the son and heir in front of guests, he doesn't give a damn." He paused. "How do you know I spend a lot of time up here?"

Jamie put his plate back on the table and shrugged. The coffee was only lukewarm and he drained the cup and wiped his mouth on a napkin. Then he leaned down and took his boots and socks off.

"It's bloody hot," he commented, and pulled his white T-shirt over his head. He straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair. The candlelight played over his slender body, defining each tightly packed muscle with shadow, and he stood for a moment before grazing his thumb downward over his flat belly. Michael watched the hand toy with the top button of the faded Levi's and felt his breathing shorten and his cock throb.

Jamie flicked the button open and removed his hand. "Come here."

Michael crossed the room and stood in front of him, his head lowered shyly and his young prick straining against the confines of his trousers. Jamie didn't speak. He ran his hands over Michael's clothed body possessively and then undid the clasp on his waistband. He tugged his shirt free and began to undo the buttons, finally drawing it over Michael's broad shoulders and down his arms before discarding it onto the floor.

The trousers were next. Jamie undid the flies and skinned them down, letting them drop to Michael's ankles. Michael knew instinctively that he wasn't allowed to move. His cock was jutting against his white cotton briefs and Jamie stood back a little to look at it, taking his time. Michael swallowed and closed his eyes. He could feel the spreading dampness of his oozing precum against the thin fabric.

"Bad," Jamie whispered. "Bad boy. Wanting another boy to look at your cock, wanting another boy to touch it..."

Michael shuddered, but Jamie still didn't move, and the expectancy began to be an exquisite torture, which made his excited prick leak even more.

"Show me."

Michael swallowed again and opened his eyes. He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of his briefs, pulling it out over his erection, and pulled them down to his thighs. He dropped his arms back to his sides and stood, his head still lowered and his throbbing cock and balls exposed.

Jamie didn't wait as long. "Take them off," he said huskily.

Michael did what he was told and Jamie came to him, his mouth urgent against his as he clasped his buttocks and pulled him hard against him.

"You're fucked," Jamie hissed in his ear and then lowered his mouth to his neck to tongue and suck while his fingers parted Michael's buttocks and pressed against his tight arsehole.

"Lie on the bed."

Michael lay on the bed and watched as Jamie unbuttoned his flies slowly and pushed his Levi's down. Michael gasped as Jamie's cock sprang to attention. It was fully erect, the foreskin drawn tightly back and the glistening head swollen and angry.

Jamie grinned wickedly and stroked it. "Up on your knees, big man."

Michael knew the position Jamie liked, and knelt with his head on the pillow and his buttocks in the air. Jamie knelt behind him and spread his cheeks. Michael's excited young prick jerked. He knew that Jamie was looking at his tight, puckered arsehole and he clenched and released it involuntarily.

"Dirty boy," Jamie whispered, and Michael squirmed in pleasure. He expected Jamie to reach for the gel that was on the chair beside the bed, but Jamie moved position and Michael felt his breath on his hole and then his hot supple tongue sliding up and down his crack.

"Oh, shit..." Michael groaned and strained to offer himself further. The feeling of Jamie's wet tongue erotically licking his crack was out of this world and Michael moaned and pushed back against it, his swollen rod aching and thrilling.

And then Jamie's tongue was concentrating on his anus, Circling and licking and probing...

"Oh, God!" Michael moaned and tried to open himself even more. Jamie's tongue penetrated his arsehole, licking and darting. And then he was fucking him with his tongue and Michael was shuddering and moaning, his balls tense and his hot boy-cock aching and throbbing.

Jamie stopped and Michael heard him spit. "Turn onto your back."

"Jamie!"

But Jamie wasn't in the mood to argue. He hauled Michael over and knelt between his legs, his long, slender weapon jutting arrogantly and oozing precum, and his dark eyes dilated with lust. He raked Michael's muscular young body with his eyes and closed his hand round his prick. Michael gasped and Jamie smiled dangerously and let go and then pushed Michael's knees up to his chest and positioned himself more accurately. Michael gasped again as Jamie's lubricated cockhead penetrated his tight sphincter.

Jamie was rougher than he had been before and Michael cried out in pain. But Jamie was fully inside him with one movement and began to thrust. At first he looked down and watched his weapon working in and out of Michael's arsehole but then he leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"Bad boy," Jamie whispered. "Letting another boy push his cock up your arse - bad..."

Michael groaned and began to buck rhythmically as Jamie's cock thrust into him and his hot tongue possessed his mouth. The pleasure was everywhere, in his arse, in his cock and balls, coursing through his young body like liquid fire. He moaned in torment and clasped Jamie convulsively. But Jamie reared above him, lost in his own building orgasm, and fucking mercilessly.

Jamie began to come and rapid-fire shots of hot spunk began to fill Michael's bowels.

And Michael lost it. He was yelling and gasping, his cock kicking and pumping and his hips bucking out of control.

"Jamieeeeeeee!!!"

It was a long come down and Jamie was gentle with him, holding him and stroking his face and then wiping him down with a damp cloth.

"Fuck!" Michael said finally.

Jamie smiled and kissed him softly. "You all right? I didn't mean to hurt you but it's a lousy position for control."

Michael moved his hand and traced the contours of Jamie's beautiful face with a fingertip. "How do you know all that stuff?"

"Come on, Michael," he groaned. "It's getting light - time we got some sleep."

They shifted position to make themselves comfortable on the narrow bed. Michael loved Jamie's smell and snuggled against his warm body drowsily, happy that Jamie was going to sleep with him.

Jamie stroked him absently and ruffled his hair. "Goodnight, sweet prince."

"That's Shakespeare, did you know?"

Jamie laughed sleepily. "It never is. And me a fucking peasant. You should have me boiled in oil for my insolence. Quoting from 'Hamlet' - fuck, off with my head..."

"I'll never understand you," Michael told him. But Jamie was already sleeping.

End of part two.

Next: Chapter 3


Rate this story

Liked this story?

Nifty is entirely volunteer-run and relies on people like you to keep the site running. Please support the Nifty Archive and keep this content available to all!

Donate to The Nifty Archive
Nifty

© 1992, 2024 Nifty Archive. All rights reserved

The Archive

About NiftyLinks❤️Donate