This story is written for, and dedicated to, my adopted son.

A Bed Once Made

by Corrinne

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

Sean had been in Spain for the past 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 its 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 Clontarf.

Three months was a long time for Jamie to sleep 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 gay 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 everywhere. It had been one of the things that they had agreed upon early in their relationship. Jamie knew that Sean loved him. Sean's sexual proclivity was something Jamie accepted. What bothered Jamie 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 that the two shared alone since Sean's mother had died. He spent the night concentrating on his painting. He felt a deep sense of betrayal.

Leaving the wall he had been working for three months, he was now concentrating on the death of the High King of Ireland. King Brian was kneeling, deep in prayer, oblivious to the fact that three Vikings were in his tent with their swords raised high to kill him. The mural that would go next to this one was the death 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. In his mind, he could see it. Legend said it had the head of a fox, the chest of an elephant, the mane of a horse, the forelegs of an eagle, the 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 had 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 that they could talk 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 and green eyes, his well muscled body, had been more than Sean could resist. But it was Jamie that he loved. Even while 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 went out looking for him. He pounded on the doors of of mutual friends, waking them to see if Jamie had sought shelter with any of them for the night. No Jamie. No one had seen Jamie. In fact, no one had seen Jamie in weeks.

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

The third night, 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."

On the morning of the third day and Sean sat 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, his thoughts painful. 'How can I live without Jamie?' A cold realization set in. He couldn't live without Jamie.

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 headed up the stairs. Relief flooded over him. then gratitude.

He bounded up the stairs behind Jamie. He entered their bedroom to see Jamie pulling out a clean change of clothing. "Where've you been then, Lad. I've been worried."

He wasn't prepared for the look Jamie gave him. It showed intense pain. His clothing was rumpled and paint stained. His face drawn and tired. But there was more. Rather, there was less. Jamie's face showed no emotion but pain. The eyes that looked back at him contained no passion .. neither anger nor love, only pain.

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

"Dinna touch me, Sean. 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. Jamie's eyes turned 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 now. It was void of any emotion, like his eyes. "But, if ye must know, I came to bathe and change. 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 that was as cold as ice, Jamie replied, "If ye had shown a wee bit of interest in me, Sean, in what I do, ye would 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."

In a quiet voice Sean asked, "Where are you working?"

"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 that cathedral a dozen times. He had 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.

Sean drank the last of his cold tea. Time ... he would give Jamie time. He went into his mother's room, which now served as the place where he worked when he was writing. She had always supported him. When he had told his parents that he was gay, it had been in this room. When he had been troubled as a child, he had come to this room ... this room where he went for his mother's help. The room had changed very little. He crossed to her dresser, picked up the spritzer of her favorite perfume, and pushed it one time. The scent of his mother brought her close to him. His mother would have known what he should do. He closed his eyes and willed her to be with him.

Jamie bathed in the old tub that they used in the bath house in back of the house where they lived. His anger had passed. All he wanted was to hold Sean, love Sean. 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 Sean's prostate over and over again. He wanted Sean. But Sean had hurt him too many times. Always before, he had kept silent. This time he would not give in to his desire. This time Sean had to know how he felt.

Jamie finished bathing. Thinking of how much he loved and needed Sean, his hand had gone to his cock.

Sean was his one true love. He closed his eyes and remembered Sean loving him. In frustration, he clenched his hand around himself, perhaps a little to hard. But, the thought of Sean's loving him overcame everything.

He stroked himself, slowly at first. As memories of Sean's lovemaking returned to him, he stroked himself harder, faster. He would not tell Sean. He wouldn't give Sean the satisfaction. He imagined his hand being Sean's mouth. Oh, the sweetness of Sean loving him. Sean could always take him to such heights of passion. Jamie's hand stroked his cock over and over. Up, down, up again. He spread his legs further apart. One hand stroked his cock while the other reached down, and he caressed his own balls. He pictured Sean, legs spread wide. He licked his finger and pressed it against his anus. Slowly, remembering the feel of Sean, he pressed first one finger .. then two .. then three, into himself. He stroked as he finger fucked himself. Suddenly he exploded. He released his cum into the bath water.

Sean waited two days for Jamie to return home. He managed to get some work done on his novel. He sorted through some of the sketches he had 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.

He 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 had been completed, showing Brian Boru leading the armies of Ireland to the plain of Clontarf on April 23, 1014. King Brian was an old man at the time, and frail; 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 like this before. Each brush stroke was filled with passion and life.

Sean stood standing quietly by the door. He 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. Sean could see his own breath. Jamie looked as if he hadn't slept at all these last two days. To Sean, Jamie appeared pale, haggard. His hands were trembling slightly.

Sean walked up to Jamie, took the brush from his hand, and pulled Jamie to himself in a tender embrace. "Oh, Jamie Love, look at you. You've not slept. 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 wollen blanket in the plaid of Clan Gordon around Jamie's shoulders. Sean took Jamie's hands in his. The slender fingers were swollen. Sean rubbed Jamie's hands gently between his own, to give them warmth.

While Jamie drank his tea, Sean brought the tub into the kitchen and filled it with hot water. Then he undressed him, for Jamie's hands were still trembling. Sean led him to the bath and helped him into the tub. Lathering a rag, Sean gently washed his lover. He was careful not to make any movements that Jamie might consider foreplay. All Sean wanted now was for Jamie to be warm.

Jamie relaxed in the hot water. Sean was massaging the aching muscles in his back, neck, and arms. The heat was helping 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 strong 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, Sean 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, only that Sean 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. Sean drew Jamie to him, holding him comfortingly in his arms. Jamie was soon asleep.

When Sean woke the next morning, Jamie was curled around him.. His head was on Sean's shoulder, his arm around him. 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 say, "Did he love you?"

"Who?" he asked.

"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 know."

"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 could not bear the thought of living without you!"

Sean pulled Jamie as close to himself as he could and hugged him. Jamie's hands were partially recovered and he brushed away Sean's tears with one of them. 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 caress 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 and coated himself before sliding coated fingers into his love. When both were well enough lubricated, he entered Jamie's body, lifting Jamie's legs over his shoulders. With gentle passion, he made love to Jamie. With others, Sean would sometimes be more agressive, and use condoms. Loving Jamie, he was always tender.

At the feel of naked flesh wrapped around naked flesh after so long a time, Sean knew that this would not last long. He leaned forward, raising Jamie's knees back to Jamie's 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 this time, Sean?"

Jamie knew his Sean well. He knew 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. And, Jamie, when I go off to research another story, I won't even ask the lad his name."