Author's note: this is part three of a love story between two teenage Scottish boys. Erotic fiction is brand new to me and I hope that this is okay. The boys in this story have unprotected sex. Please do not pull me up on that - this is fiction.
Many thanks to everyone who has e-mailed me with encouragement, and special thanks to "Joe Camp" who has given freely of his time and of his extensive knowledge of the genre. I only wish that I were a faster learner.
Note: a tied cottage is one that is supplied by an employer free of charge. The employee has no rights of tenure after employment ceases; neither do the family of a deceased employee. This is still common in certain parts of Scotland.
Warning: this story contains scenes of graphic teenaged sex.
THE LAIRD'S SON Part Three
Michael woke feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. He was alone in the bed and he panicked until he noticed Jamie's clothes were still there. He eased out of bed and went out onto the battlements. It was still very early in the morning and the countryside was wreathed in a ground mist, the hills in the distance, a hazy purple against the bright horizon.
Jamie was standing looking out and didn't seem to notice that Michael was there. But Michael knew he did, he also knew that there was something very wrong. He had been expecting Jamie to kick back against their fast developing closeness, but seeing the evidence in Jamie's tense, erect posture still came as a shock.
Michael stood shivering in the cold morning air and waited. He wondered if Jamie had slept at all, or had simply feigned sleep.
"What do you see when you stand here?" Jamie asked softly.
"The same as you - Scotland."
Jamie turned and his eyes were full of contempt. "I doubt it."
"Because I'm the son of a Laird? Because he's supposed to own all of that?" He gestured. "No one can own it. It belongs to itself."
"He owns people. He dictates their lives, just as surely as his forefathers did - YOUR forefathers did." He shook his head. "What the fuck am I doing here with you? I despise you. I despise everything you stand for. Your father used to fuck my mother when I was in the next room. She married a man she didn't love to stop it happening. And the bastard used to doff his cap and leave the house when your father came visiting." His eyes burned. "He came for me when I was thirteen."
"No!" Michael cried out in agony.
"You're fucking right! No. I told him if he wanted to see the inside of a prison cell to go right ahead. And then what do I do? I fall for the younger version."
"Jamie, please. I'm not. Please..."
Jamie pushed passed him and began to pull on his clothes.
"Jamie, please. For God's sake, please. I love you..."
"You don't know what love is," Jamie spat. "My biggest mistake was listening to your mother. And to my mother." He yanked his boots on. "You asked me how I was so experienced at sex. I'll tell you how, you bastard. I have four little sisters and a cunt of a stepfather who drinks all that he earns. And my mother's wages wouldn't even feed them, let alone clothe them. I've been selling my arse to keep us since I was twelve. I left school hoping that I might be able to get a job so I could stop. But there aren't any fucking jobs. I don't even get the minimum rate for the work I do get. Don't worry," he said bitterly when he saw the shock on Michael's face. "I'm clean. If there had been the slightest doubt about that then I would have used a condom. Your lot prefer to be caned and pissed on," he added nastily.
Michael winced. "Please, Jamie, I'm not..."
Jamie pulled on his jacket and pushed Michael off balance and onto the bed. "I fucking hate you. I hate who you are. I hate what you are. And most of all, I hate what you've done to me over these last few days."
"Jamie!"
But Jamie was gone, the door shuddering against its hinges as he left.
Michael was shaking. He curled up into a foetal position and held himself. The fantasy world that had protected him all his life was of no use to him now, and there was nowhere left to hide. He realised what their respective mothers had been trying to do, and to some degree they had been right - mutual misery should have transcended class and brought them together. But Jamie's life wasn't miserable. It was hell.
He could understand why Jamie took his stepfather's beatings now. If the man needed to hit out then Jamie wasn't going to allow his mother or his sisters to be the targets. He could understand why Kathy MacLaren stayed with her husband too. Without him she would have no home and what then, for a Highland woman with a clutch of bairns and no experience of life beyond Strath? Michael had thought he had loved Jamie before, but it paled into insignificance when compared with the feelings he had for him now. He didn't cry; he felt he had no right to cry.
He saw Jamie. For the rest of the summer, he saw him - in the village, working for one of the local farmers, in his mind. And not even in Michael's mind did Jamie acknowledge him. Michael still went up to the battlements but when he stalked now, it was as a caged animal.
Michael's mother tried to comfort him but he shut her out.
"I'm The Laird's Son!" he shouted at her when she pushed.
"You're Michael," she told him. "And Jamie has seen that, however hard he might be fighting against it now."
He could barely look at his father and was openly rude to him in the hope of a confrontation but, much to his surprise, his father backed off. Even when he accepted an invitation from a boy in his year to spend Christmas with him and his family, there was no outburst from home.
And just before the Easter break, Jamie's stepfather was killed.
"Don't come home," Michael's mother told him over the telephone.
"What sort of an accident?" Michael asked. "What's going to happen to the family? They live in a tied cottage. Is my father going to throw them onto the street? If he does, I'll..."
"A car accident. The man was driving while he was drunk. Thank God no one else was involved." His mother cut in, brusquely. "And no one is going to be thrown anywhere. Just don't come home, Michael. Jamie's pride is going to be difficult enough to deal with without your presence."
Michael didn't understand why she thought his presence would make the slightest difference to Jamie, but he did what he was told and spent a cosseted Easter with his maternal grandmother.
The next news Michael received was when his mother came to take him out of school on his 17th birthday.
"Your father sends his apologies," she told him coldly as they got in her car. "He wanted to come but there was some business that required his attention."
This was a side of his mother that Michael had never seen before. He had always considered her soft and weak and he was surprised by how daunting she looked. He knew she was annoyed with him because he hadn't answered any of his father's letters - she'd already said as much in her own correspondence. But he hadn't expected her to be angry. And she was angry. Bugger it, he thought, and was glad he had been able to put his father off coming.
"I thought we might go for a picnic," she said.
"It's freezing."
"Then we shall freeze."
He looked at her stony face and realised that he really didn't know her at all. He also realised for the first time how beautiful she was. She was thirty-seven, but looked much younger. "Go into Glen Esk, then. We can walk by the river."
He had never seen her drive and was embarrassed that her skilfulness surprised him. She parked the car and they got out and began to walk.
"The MacLaren family are fine," she told him. "It turned out that John MacLaren had life insurance through working on the estate, and Kathy has been able to buy Rowan Cottage. A much nicer place than their old one as I'm sure you'll agree." Michael started to speak but she held up her hand. "Kathy has also accepted the position of housekeeper with Archie Donald, which pays well and fits in with her family commitments. He has asked her to work for him before but her husband wouldn't hear of her looking after another man."
Michael bit back a comment on his father having been welcomed by the man. "There was no life insurance," he said instead. "Not through working for my father."
"Kathy is my friend, Michael," she said. "She is probably my only true friend, and I was not about to insult her, or risk our friendship, by offering her charity. And all that the villagers know is that her husband was insured. Kathy doesn't discuss her business."
"What did Jamie have to say about it?" he asked, knowing that he wouldn't have been fooled.
She smiled slightly. "He was offensive. Like most men, he likes to think he can take care of everything without help." She turned to face him. "But unlike most men, he wasn't cussed enough not to listen. Kathy is totally unaware of my gift, and I trust you will keep it that way."
He nodded. "And my father just agreed to all of this, did he?" he asked sarcastically.
"It was my money, not your father's. And he has accepted that Kathy and I are friends."
"How can you stay with him?" he asked bitterly. "He fucks everything that moves. He even fucked your best friend."
Her eyes blazed and she slapped his face.
He flexed his jaw and rubbed his cheek reflectively before following her along the riverbank. She was standing looking into the river and didn't turn.
"You will not speak to me about your father in such terms," she told him. "And you will stop treating him in the way you have been. You are his only son and he loves you. And whatever you may think of him, he has always tried to do his best for you."
"He's a shit," Michael said, making sure he was out of range.
She didn't move. "I'm not asking you to change your opinions. I'm telling you that you will treat him with respect."
Michael leaned against a tree and folded his arms. "I can't do that."
She turned to look at him. "Because a piece of rough from the village gives you a hard-on?"
He pushed himself off the tree. "Don't you dare..."
"Speak about Jamie like that? No, it isn't pleasant, is it? I'll tell you something else: if Jamie slept with someone different every night of the week, you would still welcome him back."
"I..." Michael stopped. He was flustered and shaky. There was too much to this, not least the fact that his homosexuality was being openly acknowledged.
"You love Jamie? Yes, I know. And I love your father. I will not have you abusing him, Michael."
"Jamie despises me," he said quietly, and rubbed furiously at the tears that had sprung into his eyes.
"Oh, darling..." She softened and took him into her arms.
"No, don't," he said and tried to pull away.
"Hush," she told him, and held him tightly until he relaxed against her. "Jamie attacked you because you got too close to him. He may despise your father, but he certainly doesn't despise you."
"You weren't there."
She held him at arms length and looked at him. "I didn't need to be, Michael. I've seen what he has done to people he despises. And sexual humiliation is a potent weapon." She loosened her grip and turned to walk again.
"If you're talking about my father, then he got what he deserved. Jamie was thirteen years old when my father tried to..."
"Jamie was thirteen years old when HE seduced your father and then exacted a rather thorough revenge." She cut in. "Your father may have had certain experiences at boarding school, but he certainly doesn't chase boys. And I am not discussing your father."
She sighed. "Jamie likes you, Michael. I don't know if it will ever be any more than that. I don't even know if Jamie is really gay - his relationships with girls are certainly not platonic. But I do know that he likes you. Kathy told me that he was extremely unhappy about what happened, even though he did try to hide it."
It was so long since Michael had felt hope that it struck him like a blow and he stopped for a moment, staring into the rushing grey river.
"How is he?" he asked. "What's he doing?"
"Horses," she said. "Schooling, breaking, a little freelance teaching. There's stabling and some acreage at Rowan and he rents the use of the indoor arena at Bridge End when he needs it. His charges are exorbitant but there are no shortage of clients."
"Don't tell me - young women."
"Oh, Michael..." She stopped to look at him and he shrugged, ashamed of how deeply jealous he had sounded.
"I doubt if he has the time for anything like that," she told him. "He isn't just working with the horses, he's gone back to school."
"What!"
She smiled. "The Headmaster was glad to have him. He got straight 1's in his standard grades before he left, and Mr Renfrew doesn't see why he shouldn't pull it off again with his higher's - or find a place a place at university."
"Jamie wants to go to university?" he asked, stunned at the information he was being given.
"Mm, and don't tease him. He's the first member of his family ever to have chosen this path and he's sensitive about it."
"I wouldn't tease him," Michael protested. "I think it's great. What does he want to study?"
"He won't say, won't discuss school at all, actually. He's working terribly hard to catch up, though. Goodness knows when he sleeps. I wish he would ease up with the horses but he won't of course."
By the time Michael was back at school his hope had evaporated. The way his mother had spoken had allowed him to believe that he and Jamie could at least be friends, but the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed. His mother had a place in Jamie's life because of her friendship with his mother, but there was no such place for him - Jamie had made that abundantly clear. He also reasoned that if Jamie had let him off lightly then that was because of their mothers too. He was relieved that things had improved for him. More than anything he wanted Jamie to be happy.
He couldn't stop loving him, but he wished he could stop thinking about him.
The summer break came, along with many apprehensions. After his mother's visit, he had resumed answering his father's letters, and if they were no more than coldly polite missives, he reflected that they had never been much more than that in the first place. His father was still nervous of him when they met, and Michael accepted with distaste that, however undemonstrative he had been towards him, the man did love him.
"Thank you," his mother said after the first meeting.
"For what, for not hurting him? What would that achieve?"
"You're growing up," she said and laid her hand against his cheek.
"How's Jamie?"
She sighed. "He's growing up too." She met his eyes. "A year is a long time at your age, Michael. "You might find that your feelings have changed when you see him."
He'd been thinking about that, had infact been thinking about it for some time. He was still considered straight at school, but Jamie had instilled needs that a solitary wank could not fulfil, and he had indulged in more than one bout of furtive sex with a boy in the year below him. He still loved Jamie, but the fumbled inexpert sex with the boy had made him feel good in a way that Jamie's intensity never had.
When he thought about his time with Jamie now, it was how gauche and nervous he had been that was in the forefront of his mind, and he didn't want to feel like that again. His mother was right, he was growing up.
It took him four days to pluck up the courage to pass by Rowan Cottage. Jamie was lunging a young horse in the paddock and Michael was rooted to the spot.
The stallion was sweating; its ears cocked towards Jamie as it pushed itself to obey him. Jamie was sweating too and his hard, slender body was rippling under his T-shirt and breeches. Michael watched mesmerised and learned the language: whip up and step forward to increase pace, whip horizontal - keep going and stay out, whip down to decrease speed, accompanied by the same seductive tones Jamie used when he made love - "Do you like me buggering you like this, Michael? Do you think of me and do it to yourself?..."
Michael swallowed. His prick was swelling and straining against his jeans and he didn't know where to look. He had thought that Jamie was beautiful at sixteen but at seventeen, Jamie's lithe body had matured into a sensual fluidity that made Michael gasp.
Jamie was half-hard, the outline of his cock and balls outlined against the tight breeches. He brought the horse to a halt and crossed the distance between them to give physical praise. And even his walk had changed. Instead of the assertive, almost aggressive, stride that Michael was used to, Jamie moved like a cat, his muscles tensing and relaxing with easy grace. Jamie had discovered his body for himself, and he was enjoying every inch of it.
He turned, and the depth of his dark, amused gaze took Michael places he had never visited. He tried to concentrate on the structure of his face but that was throwing him off balance too. The remnants of childhood had gone and Jamie might have been the fantasy of an Old Master he was so beautiful. The soft black shadow of stubble from his missed morning shave was no artist's illusion, though. And the evidence of Jamie's male fecundity, the thought of that roughness grazing against his rectum, made Michael shudder.
"He turning you on, big man?" Jamie asked. "He fucking turns me on. What the fuck is his silly wee bitch of an owner going to do with an animal like this? She isn't strong enough to ride him, and he's too big to fuck."
He stroked the animal's sleek, sweating neck and it turned to rest its head against him. "What's she going to do with you, eh, boy? She even wears perfume when she's around you and then freaks out when it turns you on." His hand continued with the caress, and Michael watched, wishing that Jamie were touching him.
"I heard you were home," Jamie told him as he led the horse to the stables.
Michael followed uncertainly. "Yes, and you've gone back to high school." Shit, he thought, shit, shit, shit! Why did I say that?
But Jamie glanced at him and grinned. "Your mother's fault. Did she tell you that? 'You have two choices, Jamie: go back to school and get some qualifications. Or rot'."
It was a good impersonation and Michael laughed.
"Fuck, she can give it out, though. I couldn't believe it." Jamie told him as he busied himself untacking the horse. "She made me feel like I was about six. What about you, big man, been playing with the other little boys at boarding school?"
Michael took a breath and nodded, but Jamie was busy with a sweat rug and didn't notice. "A bit," Michael said uncomfortably.
Jamie didn't turn. "Good."
Michael read the subtext - good, that means you're off my back. He felt a surge of despair and then became suddenly angry. "You don't need to be friendly because of my mother; 'I despise you' is fine."
Jamie looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "I'll bear it in mind."
"You were out of line at the castle," Michael told him. Adrenaline was flooding his system and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Jamie studied him. "Fair enough. I apologise." He turned to the horse.
"I didn't do anything to deserve it. I'm not my father!"
The stallion was moving around nervously and Jamie tried to soothe it. Michael licked his lips and then dried them again jerkily with the back of his hand.
"Bugger off, Michael," Jamie said softly. "You're upsetting the horse."
Michael rubbed his nose violently and went outside. He leaned against the wall of the small stable-block and breathed deeply. He hardly ever got angry and he was trembling. Jamie came out after a few minutes and paused to look at him.
"Don't do that again," he said quietly. "Stallions are dangerous and they are as sensitive as hell." He crossed to the tap that was on the outside wall and, stripping off his sweat stained T-shirt, began to wash.
Michael watched and felt his cock stir. His brief flash of anger was gone and he felt totally miserable. Jamie was standing 10 feet away and it might as well have been miles. He had been deluding himself when he thought he could get over him. He had been deluding himself when he tried to believe that the sex he'd had at school was more to his liking. "I tried to get over you," he said in his head. "I don't want to love you. I don't want this pain..."
Jamie straightened up and dried himself on the T-shirt. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've apologised, okay? I treated you like shit and I'm sorry - end of story."
A car drew up and the small yard was suddenly full of little girls.
"Michael!" Jamie's mother greeted him. "How are you? Janette said you were home." She was as dark as his own mother was fair. They had the same slight build, though, and the same undefinable femininity.
Michael warmed himself on her smile, glad of the familiarity where none had been expected. "I'm fine, Mrs MacLaren. Thank you. I'm sorry about your husband."
"Ach, well. I wouldn't have wished the man dead."
Jamie was unloading shopping from the car while his youngest sister held onto his leg and hid her face from Michael.
Mrs MacLaren turned to him. "I thought you were going to make the dinner, not mess about with that beast."
"Lunch," Jamie corrected. "You've got a posh guest. And it's ready, though why you want a hot meal on a day like this is beyond me." He dumped a box of groceries in Michael's arms and, picking up a load of his own, walked off towards the whitewashed cottage with his little sister trotting behind him.
"Don't let him upset you, Michael," Mrs MacLaren told him. "He's only teasing you. Thank you," she said gesturing at the box.
Michael helped to carry and put away the shopping. The large kitchen was pure country; old pine and a flagstone floor, with bunches of flowers and herbs hanging from hooks in the ceiling to dry, and old plates (probably family heirlooms) fastened to the walls. He liked the noise and chatter of the girls too.
"On the dresser." Mrs MacLaren indicated to the package in his hand. "Would you like to stay and eat with us?"
"It's stovies," Jamie protested. "He's not going to want bloody stovies!"
"I'll thank you to mind your language in front of the girls."
Jamie smacked down the tin he was holding. "I'm going out," he said, and pulled a clean T-shirt from a pile of laundry before heading for the door.
Mrs MacLaren raised her eyes heavenwards, and Michael shifted uncomfortably. "On you go," she told him with a smile.
"I... Em... I'm not sure that he'll..."
"Away and don't be silly. And tell him I want him back for his tea. I don't like him going without food."
Jamie was turning the stallion out into small paddock. "I'm going for a swim in the loch - come or don't come; it's up to you."
Michael felt a sharp spasm of pleasure hit him in the loins. He knew that Jamie would swim naked and was reminded of the time that he had watched him masturbate. He wanted to be with him, even although he still thought that Jamie was only putting up with him because of their mothers, but he had problems with the fact that he knew he would get an erection - hell, he already had an erection.
Jamie glanced at him. "Up to you," he said and collected a small rucksack from the tackroom.
"One of the villagers might see us together," Michael said. Rowan Cottage wasn't in the village but it was close enough to make it a possibility. It made Michael miserable but he knew that Jamie wouldn't want to be seen with him.
"Fuck the villagers," Jamie said dismissively. "What do you think I'm going to do, hold your hand?"
As always, Michael was totally bewildered by Jamie. He never seemed to act in the way Michael expected him to. He had forgotten that side of their relationship. "No, of course not." He moved to shut the tackroom door to hide his blush. "Christ, stop it!" he told himself. "You're too old to act like this."
Jamie chose a secluded part of the loch. He had been preoccupied on the walk there, and Michael was too worried about taking his clothes off to attempt conversation. The loch was as calm as a millpond. A heron took off and they both watched it.
"Fuck knows how they fly," Jamie commented. "I always think they're not going to make it. My wee sister could make a better job of designing aerodynamics."
Michael smiled. He always found himself urging them on too. "Prehistoric," he agreed.
Jamie turned back from the sandy shore and put his bag down on the grass. It really was a secluded spot, sheltered from prying eyes by belt of trees. Jamie kicked his riding boots off with deft assurance and Michael thought about the mess he always made of it without the aid of a bootjack.
"What about fishermen?" he asked, glancing at the loch.
Jamie shrugged. "They never come here, wouldn't bother about seeing your bare arse even if they did." He began to undress and Michael turned away and started to do the same, stopping at his briefs.
"I've got a hard-on," he admitted in shame.
"You've got more than that," Jamie told him softly. "You're in amazing shape."
Michael felt, rather than heard, him move towards him and he tensed involuntarily as his body was bombarded with sensation.
Jamie stopped. "Come on, Michael," he said huskily. "I know you've got a boyfriend but what he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Michael was about to say that he hadn't and that all he'd ever done with anyone besides Jamie was have a mutual wank, but he suddenly realised that Jamie wanted him to be involved with someone else, that he wanted sex without the threat of involvement.
"What about you?" he asked.
"A boyfriend? Fuck, no."
Michael sensed him move forward again and closed his eyes. The sexual tension was incredible and his whole body was trembling with excitement. "What about a girlfriend?"
Jamie's breath was on his shoulder and then his mouth was on his neck, sucking and biting, his tongue tracing a hot trail of pleasure as it snaked to his ear to lick and probe while Michael shivered and moved his head to accommodate him.
"Come on, baby, let me have you," Jamie whispered. "I know I'm a shit. Oh, fuck! Please..."
Michael groaned and leaned against him, his head thrown back. He gasped as he felt Jamie's hot, rigid weapon prod against his buttocks. Jamie's arms slipped round him and he clasped Michael to him for a moment, thrusting against his cotton-clad cheeks. Then he was running his hands over Michael's broad chest and rubbing his hard nipples between a thumb and forefinger, his breathing loud in Michael's ears. His hands moved lower, grazing down Michael's taut muscular belly before finding his stiff, pulsing prick.
Michael moaned and opened his legs to give Jamie access to his balls as well. Jamie fondled him for a moment, and then his hands were urgent on his waistband and pulling his briefs out over his swollen cock and down. His hand closed round Michael's hot tool and he thrust against his naked buttocks.
"Now," he hissed. "I want you now."
Michael kicked off his briefs and turned to look at him, breathing hard. His dark eyes blazing with desire and his nostrils flared, his slender, muscular body tense and quivering, and his beautiful weapon jutting arrogantly from his loins, Jamie was magnificent.
"Against a tree."
Michael leant against a tree trunk and braced himself on his hands. His cock was slick with excitement and his swollen balls were tight. He needed this as much as Jamie did. Jamie was nosing and tonguing round his arse, worrying at his crack to get in. And then he was on his anus, licking and probing and fucking, coating it with gleaming saliva, while his stubble rasped against Michael's tender crack and made him writhe and moan.
One finger penetrated him, working him urgently, then two.
"Come on, baby," Jamie whispered. "Open your tight little arse for me. I've got a big cock for you."
Michael groaned and strained to open himself and Jamie slid another finger inside him, massaging his prostate gland as he buggered him. Then it was his cock, slick with spit and precum, that was demanding entry. Michael's groan came from deep inside him and he pushed as if to shit.
"Aw, Christ!" Jamie groaned. "Where the fuck have you been?"
He began to thrust with long deep strokes and Michael matched his rhythm, pushing back as Jamie pushed forward. There was no pain, only intense, shuddering pleasure. Jamie moved his hand and began to wank Michael's throbbing prick...
"Oh, God! Oh, Christ! Jamieeee!!!"
Jamie came too, crying out and clutching Michael as he plunged and squirted.
"You're bigger," Michael told him when they'd both come down and separated.
Jamie was sprawling on his back, spent and wet, his long cock still half-hard. He squinted across at Michael. "You're not." He grinned boyishly. "You're as tight at fuck. What's you're boyfriend been doing to you?"
The light seemed to go out of the afternoon and Michael looked down at the grass. "Not that," he said quietly.
Jamie sat up and looked out over the loch. "Okay," he said after a few minutes. "Fair's fair. Just don't expect it to become a habit."
Michael was totally bewildered and couldn't think of what to say.
Jamie turned and looked at him. "I prefer it the other way round. Well, I suppose that's obvious. But I don't mind as long as you don't expect it all the time."
The penny dropped and Michael felt his mouth go slack. "You're going to let me fuck you?"
Jamie eyed his prick. "As long as you watch what you're doing with that. I'm not the only one who's bigger." He stood up and went to the loch, his beautiful body describing a perfect arc as he dived.
End of Part Three