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Author's Chapter Notes:
Warnings: Lemon/lime, British boys' school 1976. Very young ages for the characters involved. Sheep and a Very Nasty Man. Enter at your own risk.

A chilly wind swept over the quadrangle as James sat, huddled on the wall along the eastern end. He'd been waiting for Dorian who was nearly half an hour late and getting colder by the minute. At last, after another fifteen minutes had crept by, a car swung into view and pulled smoothly up to the curb near him.

"Sorry, sweet boy, the traffic was absolutely *mad*. Everyone and his dog seems to be wanting to come into Town." Dorian stood before him and smiled, half apologetic, half seductive. He was wearing a very tight red sweater that hugged every line of his torso, and slim fitting black jeans and boots. His hair, practically down to his shoulder blades now, glistened in the pale December sun.

"I thought you weren't coming," James told him. It came out a little whiny -- he really couldn't help it. He was cold and his jacket wasn't nearly warm enough, a castoff of his cousin's that did little for keeping a small-boned creature like him from shivering in the desperately cold wind. He glanced past Dorian and became deathly still as he saw another head of blond hair in the car, blue eyes glancing up hesitantly at the older boy as his companion climbed out of the vehicle. "You brought someone with you..."

"Oh -- yes!" Dorian said, cheerfully. "Let me introduce you! This is Derrick. He's at Oxford with me. He's reading Art History as well."

The other fellow smiled vaguely at James before leaning closer to Dorian. "Darling, it's cold out. Can't we be going yet? Eton's so bloody boring, only little boys running about..." He smiled at James again. Blue eyes, cut to the quick, looked up at Dorian's face, mouth trembling.

"Don't mind Derrick," the tall blond said with a laugh. "He's from London -- everything is boring to him." He gave James a quick wink and told Derrick to wait in the car for him.

"Maybe," James murmured as they walked away from the car and the pouting Derrick, "everything is boring now to you, too. You... you don't come 'round, anymore, and you're only half an hour's drive away..."

"I'm at university now, you little git," Dorian said, taking James's hand and kissing it when he knew no one was looking. "I've got a lot on at the moment. I plan to get through in two years, so I'm taking double courses." Leaning down to James's height he stared in mock reproach. "Now don't go all pouty on me, all right?"

The tremor in those lips was undeniable even though James agreed verbally. "All right," he whispered, knowing that Dorian was tiring of him. After all, even though he loved Dorian, Dorian had never said...


"Do you have time for a cookie?" he asked tentatively, wanting things to be at least semi-normal again and knowing that they wouldn't be. No, Dorian wouldn't have time, not with that pretty blond boy in the car...

"Sorry," Dorian said, a genuine look of regret on his face. "I'm taking Derrick back to London so he can be with his family during the break. He's supposed to be there in time for tea, but we can get together first thing next term, all right?"

"Please?" James asked him, tears welling up despite himself. "Please? It'll only take a moment. I promise I won't take up more time than that!" Oh, how he wanted to, though, wanted to take up ALL of Dorian's time!

Dorian looked back at the car, hesitating, and then acquiesced. "All right, but let's hurry. I can't keep him waiting for long."

THAT made James happy enough to nearly bounce, only refraining from flinging his arms about Dorian's neck because it seemed as if it would embarrass him. "Let's hurry," he agreed, beginning to shuffle quickly along. It was so *cold*, and the wind was desperately biting and wet!

They ran to the small shop across the street from the quadrangle and went in, Dorian ordering hot drinks while James begged for cookies. "So, tell me what you'll be doing on your holiday?" he asked.

"Going to my uncle's," the boy answered miserably, clutching a small handful of two day old cookies as they settled at a little table for a moment. "I shall be alone, and I shan't like it at all. It's dreadful, always. I'd much rather stay at school."

"You'd be bored silly, here," Dorian mused. "Everything shuts down. Surely you can stand your uncle's for a short while. His house is comfortable, isn't it?"

James shrugged. "It's all right, but I don't like sleeping on the third floor. I'm all alone, and his business associates all come 'round for the holidays. It's boring, all there is to do is look at the stuff he spent Poppa's money on..."

A jingle at the door announced someone coming in, a demanding voice speaking in exasperation. "Darling, what on earth are you doing? Cookies and chocolate? What a silly childish thing! It's time to go to *LONDON*, Dorian, this business with stopping off at a stupid boys' college is quite enough. Let's go!"

Dorian rose to bring the boy over to the table. "Now, Derrick -- let's not be so cross, just a little Christmas treat with a friend of mine." He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately and added, "I've met all of your public school friends -- you should meet mine, too. Come and have a sip of cocoa with us."

With a put out little sigh, Derrick settled into a chair, frowning. "Yes, but I wasn't *shagging* any of mine, and I do suspect you *were*..." James's cheeks flamed with heat and the blond looked at Dorian as if to say 'I told you so'.

Dorian wagged an eyebrow at him. "Watch that acid tongue, dear boy. It doesn't suit you at all."

"And if I don't, what'll you do?" Derrick nearly purred.

/*I* hope he kicks him in the shins,/ James decided, nibbling at his cookie and slipping all but one into his pocket. THAT one, he gave to Dorian, most distinctly leaving the not-very-nice fellow right out purposely.

"Oh -- thanks," the tall blond said, and then broke it in half and gave the other piece to Derrick. Well, not really *gave* it to him. Actually he held it up in front of the boy's lips and waited for him to take a bite, and the way that he wrapped his lips around it before biting into it briskly, peering up at Dorian from beneath those hatefully thick lashes, nearly made James queasy.

He wanted to protest! He wanted to say, 'That was for you'! He didn't, though; only looked at Dorian and tried to hide the tingle in his sinuses, the trembling in his lips. /I'm old hat. Not even worth the effort of not hurting, am I?/ So worthless, then, just the way his family thought, even to Dorian...

Just then Dorian leaned over to James and whispered in his ear, "I miss these cookie sessions, you know... *very* much..."

THAT was almost enough to make it up to him, and he tried very hard to smile at Dorian despite the nasty older boy sitting altogether too close to his lovely blond boy. "So you're staying in London over Christmas?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," Derrick said, "with my family, aren't you, darling? And we really *must* go or we'll be late and then we WILL be in a pickle!"

"Father's not well," Dorian murmured, "and he's going to be in a private clinic over the holidays. He... he wanted me to go somewhere on my own, and Derrick offered back in October so... I'll be staying with him -- with his family."

"Oh..." James couldn't help the way his mouth puckered momentarily, trying to hide the trembling. "I see. I hope you have a wonderful time," he lied. He hoped Dorian was miserable! He hoped he was wretched and he suffered and he slept late and felt bad when he did!

"Thanks," Dorian said graciously. "I'm sure it will be very different from celebrating with Father and his friends in Cornwall. Well! Shall we push on, Derrick?" he said, standing smoothly.

"Yes, *please*," the other young man drawled. "Give me your cocoa. I'm sure it's too sweet, but that was an atrocious cookie. I need to get the taste of it out of my mouth."

Dorian looked immediately to James and winked halfheartedly. "But the price is right, eh, James? Best buy in the city." He patted James on the back, then pulled him close into a tight embrace, "You stay well, all right? Have a safe trip and think of Jolly Olde England once in a while when you're up there."

Wordlessly, he clung to Dorian, face rubbing momentarily against that sweater. "Yes," he finally said a bit huskily, the wool of it hurting his cheeks a bit, but that didn't matter. "I'm sure I shall."

"Come *on*, Dorian," Derrick sighed.

"Right," Dorian muttered, allowing the younger blond to guide him to the doors. "Have a wonderful time," he called. "I'll think of you!" And just like that, the two of them were gone.

Unable to help himself, James dropped back into his chair, not caring that it crushed the cookies he'd put in his pockets. No, he didn't care at all, and he couldn't help himself when he lowered his head to his arms and wept silently, shoulders hitching slightly. He didn't even care that the lady behind the counter who was always so nice to him probably saw. He didn't care...

He didn't care!

"Well, well. What a pretty little thing we have here!" It was an older man, one of his uncle's associates, some fellow from Dumfries, he thought. He was actually not so bad as the others, for he was fairly trim, dark-headed with green eyes like glass, and he had no mustache, a fact that James could appreciate. He had a great dislike for the look of a mustache...

His uncle chuckled without humor. "My brother-in-law's child. He and his wife died in an accident some years back, summer of '74, I think, and we've been left with James to raise. Quite something, that, but what can one do?"

One could, James supposed, not spend money that didn't belong to one, and not be mean to an orphaned boy, but he didn't say a word, simply smiled at the man from Dumfries. The man had on a red wool sweater like the one Dorian had worn the day he'd dropped by for those few short minutes, and it left him yearning. It had been so long, and perhaps..


Perhaps *he* could get a man, too, if Dorian could, and since Dorian had no use for him anymore, it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

"Come over here, boy. You can sit next to me." The man patted the sofa next to him, eyes compelling James to move. "My name is Robert. What's yours?"

"James, sir," he answered prettily despite the fact that his uncle had just said as much, tilting his head to the side to smile. Those eyes gleamed such a pretty not-quite-emerald, and Robert's smile seemed so nice...

"What school do you attend, James?" Robert asked and continued to smile. "Is it here in Scotland?"

"I'm at Eton. Uncle wanted me to go there because cousin Bruce was," James answered, head tilted upward, his own lips curving to echo the tilt of the older man's. "What do you do?"

"I'm just a sheep farmer," Robert laughed, then looked over at James's uncle. "In'nt that right, Davey?"

James's uncle snorted. "I'd not call you a *farmer*," he replied. "You're damned near a corporation in and of yourself, man! How many thousand of the buggers've you got now?"

THAT made James's blue eyes light up. Thousands of sheep? THAT meant MONEY!! "You have lots and lots?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"About four thousand or so," the man said proudly. "Mostly Blackface but also some Border Liecesters. It's a very lucrative business."

"Ohhhh, that's lots!" James said, almost in ecstasy at the mere thought! /And if they sell for this much apiece and you sell even a hundred of them.... OHHHH!!!/ What a perfectly MAGNIFICENT thought that was! All of that *money*..! He could absolutely *roll* in it!

Robert cast him a puzzled glance. "You like sheep, do you?" he said. "Strange for a city-educated boy..."

"I'm from Inverness originally," James told him, nodding. "And I like numbers very much, and money. Sheep make both, don't they? They're numerous, and they make money! Perfect!"

The two men began to laugh and Robert took a long pull on his whiskey. "And do you plan to become rich someday? Are you studying business in your fancy school?"

"Lots of mathematics!" James answered enthusiastically. "I like arithmetic. My father did, also..." His face fell a little at that before he smiled up at the man, tilting his head to the side. "I suppose I should like to be rich one day. Money is nice, particularly counting it!" Oh, and wouldn't that be spectacular? To have lots and lots of money and to count it often!

"Well, you're a pretty little thing -- maybe you'll find other ways to make money, eh?" He laughed again and ruffled James's hair. "Are you teaching him your trade, Davey?"

"I'm having a hard enough time with Bruce, Robert!" James's uncle protested with a forced laugh. "He doesn't want to deal in artwork. It doesn't seem a very masculine trade to him!"

"Well," Robert said smiling, "it seems that way to many I suppose. That's one complaint my sons don't have. But this one, here..." He gestured to James and let his hand drop on the boy's knee. "This one seems more that type. Why don't you let him have a go."

"Well..." Davey's reluctance was obvious. "He's shown no aptitude either, and it really is meant for Bruce..."

/Even though half of the art in this house, you bought with money that was mine,/ James thought angrily, keeping all of that off of his face.

"Ah, well -- I'm sure he'll find a way to support himself," Robert said smoothly, giving James's knee a soft squeeze. "I think I'll go upstairs now and freshen up before dinner. Perhaps young James here could show me to my room?"

Davey nodded, gesturing with a hand. "Take him up, James. Second floor east wing blue room."

"Yes, uncle," James answered, keeping from frowning. Well, he *wanted* to go with Robert; after all, he was looking for a man, wasn't he? Only he didn't like doing what his uncle told him to do at all!

"Come along, then, young man," Robert said cheerfully. "I'm weary from my travels and in need of a bit of rest." He picked up his suitcase from the wide front entry hall and waited at the bottom of the stairs for James.

Happy enough to leave relatives all downstairs, James nodded and followed the other man to the stairs before going up ahead of him. "Have you stayed here before?" he asked out of curiosity. "Perhaps you've even had the same room if you did!"

"No -- this is my first overnight visit," Robert said. "It was very kind of your uncle to ask me for the holidays, as both my sons will be out of town this year."

"Really?" Oh, that made him curious! "How old are they?"

"One is eighteen and the other is twenty-two," Robert said. "The younger one is staying with friends near his college and the older one is on holiday with his new wife. That leaves me all alone, which no one wants at Christmas."

Dark hair tumbling into his eyes, James said thoughtfully, "Oh, perhaps being alone wouldn't be so very bad. Think of how much one could get done!" And it wasn't as if Saint Nick was going to be visiting *him*...

The older man looked surprised. "Now what kind of attitude is *that* for a young boy?" he asked. "You sound like an old man!" He shook his head as they came to the room. "Surely you like the food and the decorations and the gifts."

He wasn't at all sure about what he should say to that, so he simply shrugged. "I'm an orphan," he reminded as if it was not so important as it truly was. "Very few people like to give gifts to orphans..." Particularly his uncle and aunt!

"That's very sad to hear," the older man said. "Don't your uncle and aunt care about you? What happens to you? Hmm?"

Another shrug answered that inquiry. "If they didn't, I suppose they wouldn't be sending me to Eton, would they?" he questioned in return, smiling for the man.

"But they don't seem too concerned for you when you're here, though..." He reached out and pushed the hair back just a bit from James's eyes. "You need someone to care for you, I think."

The yearning was clear in those blue eyes, a need. /I'm not good enough to keep Dorian happy, but maybe I could make this man happy. He's pretty, and he's nice..../ "I wish.." he whispered tentatively.

Robert raised an eyebrow as his fingertips traced James's profile. "Hmm? What is it you wish...?"

"I *do* wish someone cared..." he said thoughtfully. /I wish Dorian cared.../ But Dorian had left him, hadn't he? For Oxford and Derrick and *London*, and didn't even come see him anymore...

"Perhaps someone does," Robert murmured as he leaned forward to take the boy's lips. "Perhaps... an arrangement..."

Willingly, even eagerly, James allowed him that kiss, his mouth parting sweetly as if to ask for more, wordlessly agreeing that the suggestion just might be entertained.

The kiss deepened and Robert held James's head, his fingers tangled in the dark hair. "Mmm, yes..." he murmured against the boy's warm mouth. "Very delightful..." Then, surprisingly, he pushed James gently backwards and smiled. "Let's both think on this, shall we? We can make our decision after dinner. Run along now -- I'll see you soon."

For a moment, James stood startled, fingers pressed to his lips; then, he smiled slightly, expression turning sly, eyes sparkling. "After dinner," he agreed in a murmur, nodding solemnly before turning to head back down the hall, only glancing back once. /Perhaps this won't be so bad after all.../

Dinner was long but ended finally with the men going into the drawing room, passing around the Glenkinchie and stoking the fire until it roared. Robert made it a point of sitting next to James on the sofa, his leg just brushing that of the eager boy's. "What are you asking your father to give you for Christmas, Bruce?"

"I was rather hoping for a car," the bored older teen answered, glancing wistfully at the whiskey of which he'd gotten none. "Something red, I think."

"Your grades," his father reminded him, "were atrocious Michaelmas term, Bruce!"

"Can't expect the big presents if you don't put out, Bruce, my boy," Robert laughed. "No one should expect that."

"*I* did well," James noted quietly, expecting to be ignored.

His expectations were fulfilled... mostly.

"Did you now?" said Robert, looking down at him. "What were you reading this term?"

"Lots of maths," James answered solemnly. "As many as they'd allow me to study. I rather like it..."

"You're such a freak," Bruce sighed.

"Mathematics is very helpful, Bruce. A man like me needs a good math man to keep his books and make sure his investments are growing..." He winked down at James and pressed his leg against him. "Money and math go together, eh boy?"

Obediently, James nodded. "Yes, sir. I should rather think so!"

Davey coughed, frowning. "Well, Bruce is in quite a few advanced fields and he *is* a year further along than James, so naturally James would have an easier time of things."

Another wink came James's way. "Now, now, Davey -- don't belittle the boy so. I'm sure Bruce will do just fine, too. If he applies himself more."

Ohhh, James felt happy! /This could be not-so-bad,/ he decided, giving a feigned yawn and allowing dark lashes to drift slightly shut. Perhaps he could just lean against the tall dark-haired man...

"I couldn't agree more with you, James," Robert said, yawning himself. "I think it's an early night for me. We're going on the Whisky Road tomorrow morning, right, Davey?"

"First thing," James's uncle replied. "James, show him to his room again. It's your bedtime, anyway."

"Yes, Uncle," James acquiesced, standing to obey, even though he didn't *want* to do so. He did so because he wanted to know what Robert would do, not because his uncle had told him to do it.

They headed up the stairs and at the door to his room, Robert turned gracefully and lounged against the doorway. "So," he said in a low voice. "What have we decided?"

Lifting his face prettily, James smiled. "That I should like it if we came to that agreement of which you spoke," he answered, mouth pursing in a little bow that was quite lovely.

"That is very fortunate," Robert purred, "for I had come to the same decision. Come into my room, boy..."

Just the *sound* of that made him give a little sigh, shivers rocking through him. He rather preferred Dorian's voice breathily calling him Jamesie to *boy*, but... He supposed that when one had a man, one did things the way one's man wanted them done! Quietly, he slipped into the room, lit only by a lamp left on by the bed. /A waste of money,/ he thought, turning to look up at the dark-haired man. "You look absolutely adorable," the man murmured, "but I bet you look even better without all those clothes on."

"Would you like for me to take them off?" James offered, peering up at him through dark lashes, giving what he hoped was a seductive little smile. It was an imitation of Dorian, so surely it must be!

"No," Robert husked. "*I* will take them off..." He strode forward and opened James's shirt to his waist before pushing him back onto the bed and pinning him there. "You're no virgin, are you boy? Not with that look to you."

Shivering, James looked at him wide-eyed. How did one answer a question like that!? "I can be if you want me to be," he opted, tilting his head to the side. "Though I'd just as soon not be, if you don't mind."

Robert didn't seem to appreciate the answer though. He pressed his knee rather hard against James's crotch. "Tell me! You ever been with a man before?"

Unable to help himself, James gave a little sound of almost-pain. It hurt, the way the man was crushing against him! "Just a boy!" he whimpered, blue eyes filling sharply with tears, lip bitten. "That hurts!"

"Does it now?" the man said softly, a hint of increased excitement in his voice. "I think you like it... you like a wee bit of pain... 'cause you know you deserve it, don't you...?"

Leaning down, he caught James's mouth in a fierce kiss. It dragged a ragged little gasp from the slim boy, still squirming to get away from the pressure of that knee as tears spilled over. /I *do* deserve it,/ he thought, suddenly miserable. /Dorian doesn't love me. This must be why, then... It's *my* fault!/ "Ow," he whimpered as Robert's lips came off of his, unable to stop the word that leaked out of him.

"Such a pretty little sound," Robert murmured and moved his knee, replacing it with his hand and giving the boy's cock a soft squeeze. "Show me how much you want me," he added and trailed kisses along James's throat.

"Ohhhh..." That was a breathy noise because the hand felt so much better than the knee, squeezing him with a thorough deliberateness that sent tingling shivers down his spine. "*Ohhhhh*, like that, please..."

A quick flip of his hand and Robert scratched the boy's shaft with his nails. "Let's not get uppity, shall we?" he breathed, circling his tongue delicately around James's ear. Then the stroking and squeezing resumed. "I'll do what I like with you... and you'll like it."

James wasn't at all sure that he was going to like it in the least! That scratching had hurt, and Dorian didn't hurt him... no, Dorian didn't, but Dorian didn't love him, either, and that meant... "Yes," he whispered shakily. "I'll like whatever you do..."

"There's a good boy," the older man said, kissing his way down James's shoulders and chest, pushing the cloth of his shirt aside as he did. His hands came up as he reached the small nipples and he pinched them lightly. "Aren't these the pretty things, then? Mmmm..." The next moment his mouth closed over one and he began sucking at it softly. A shuddery little whine escaped the slim boy, his back arching up to the pleasure of that touch. It felt so good to be suckled there, a startling contrast to the sharper sensations forced on him, and he found that he *liked* it, or thought he did. Perhaps he didn't... oh, he couldn't tell! Only he couldn't help himself when his hands came up tentatively to touch the dark hair of the man suckling at him, couldn't keep his hands still...

Instantly Robert's hands closed around his wrists, pinning them to the bed. "You just lie still now, boy, and let me do what I like..." He took up both wrists with one of his large hands and used the other hand to push James's trousers down and off. Then he spit on his fingers and rubbed them around the boy's entrance, doing the same thing to his cock. "Ah, you're nice and tight for me..." he whispered, and then shoved in.

It hurt!! It hurt awfully, nothing like what Dorian did with him, and he cried out at the pain, the sound not muffled at all in the room as he struggled to get away from the older man, shaking his head wildly. "Stop, stop!"

Now that large hand closed over his mouth and Robert began a slow rhythm, pushing in and out of the boy and grunting softly. "You be quiet now, boy," he said gruffly. "You know you want to be fucked. You were asking for it, weren't you?"

Oh, he had asked for it, but he hadn't known it would be like *this*!! He hadn't known that it would be so rough with none of the tender little touches to make him be ready for it and want it!

He was almost grateful for the hand covering his cries, for he knew no one needed to hear; he knew it would be his fault if his uncle found out! So he didn't mind when it stayed there, even if he couldn't breath so well. At least it muffled the sounds as it went on and on, hurting him and, finally, God help him, feeling almost *good* to him with the steady thrusts brushing just so inside of him!

His passage was getting slicker now, the man's cock dripping inside of him, and the slippery feeling only made Robert more excited. "Ah, yes... yes... take it, boy..." and now he angled his thrusts so they scraped that tender nub of flesh inside, fast and hard and demanding.

Cries of pain rapidly changed to pleasure, the entirety of James's body arching up for more, wanton in a desperate sort of *need*. The pleasure was still edged with pain, but it was so *close*, so almost-nearly-not-quite...

And then it *was*, and he cried out again, spilling with a sudden overflow of pleasure, unable to stop himself from coming wildly. "HMMM!!!"

Robert's cries soon echoed his own, drawn out by the hunger in them, the sheer need. He flooded James with seed, pushing his further down into the mattress. "God, you fucking little *slut*!!" he hissed, and backhanded him at the height of his orgasm.

The force of it split his lip, drawing a soft cry from him, the pain dancing across his cheekbone, as well. /Ohhh, it hurts!/ He didn't say it aloud, though... he knew better than that, already. /Dorian.../ he wished, just for a moment, tears trickling loose from thick dark lashes.

"So pretty," Robert breathed, looking down at him, disheveled and still impaled, crying underneath him. "Yes, I do believe you're *perfect*. It's going to be *such* a wonderful holiday." Leaning down, he licked the tears slowly from James's face. "These are your gifts to me, pet."

Not sure of what to say, James didn't say anything at all; he only wept silently, trembling there beneath the man, wondering if Dorian went through this. He wondered if this was what having a man was like...

He wondered when they could do it again, because as much as it hurt, as much as he hated it...

Something in him said that it was a terrible, terrible need that had to be fulfilled in him again...

Three weeks later, just before the start of the Lent term, Dorian borrowed one of Charles's cars and headed back for Oxford. He was richer by many pretty presents but the one thing that was conspicuously absent in the car was Derrick. They'd had a falling out after going to a club on New Year's, Derrick going into a raging pout because Dorian was flirting too much, and the blond boy had decided to come back a day early on his own. Because of the spare time, he decided on the spur of the moment to drop by Eton and see James.

The dormitory looked much the same as it had when he'd been there as he walked up the stairs to the small room James was staying in. Knocking on the door, he called, "Jamesie -- you in?"

The door opened slowly, a single blue eye peering out at him as if in shock. "'s you," he said a little huskily, obviously reluctant to open the door. "You came... why'd you come?"

Dorian looked bemused. "Why? Because... we're friends? Because we adore each other? Because I won't see you for awhile once term starts and I thought I'd visit now?" Leaning forward towards the smaller boy he whispered, "Are any of those the right answer?"

The blatant misery that filled that one-eyed gaze was more than obvious, the door still clutched tightly. "You... you have that Derrick," he said uncertainly. He could fill his lip trembling and he bit it, wincing as it opened one of the cuts on it. /Damn. How pathetic.../

Dorian straightened up and looked miffed, "*Don't* say that creature's name to me again!" he said, waving a hand dismissively. "He ended up the holiday being perfectly wretched and I never want to see him again, the little git." He lounged against the doorway and batted his eyelashes. "It's *awfully* drafty out here in the hall -- won't you let me in? Warm me up a bit? Eh?"

For a moment, it honestly seemed as if James wasn't going to let him in at all, but there was something about the way that Dorian looked at him that made his heart hurt, that made him *need*, so he let it open a little, hiding behind it even as he allowed Dorian the room to pass through the doorway. "'s all right, then," he murmured, shifting his curly hair so that it fell in his face a bit more, hopefully hiding the bruised cheekbone, the nearly black eye.

"So," Dorian said, walking in as if he owned the place and beaming. "How was your holiday? Tell me all about Scotland. Was Bruce his usual bastard self?"

"It was all right," James answered him hesitantly, shutting the door behind him, quite grateful that the curtains were shut. "I got some presents and things..." Quite a bit of money, actually, from Robert, and the promise of more. Oh, but it wasn't worth it if Dorian was going to see his face!!

The older boy slid gracefully onto the bed and lay on his side, staring at James. "That must have made you happy... is there -- something wrong with your eye?"

"Nothing!" James assured him hurriedly. "I'm all right!" That in and of itself was so utterly suspicious as to be preposterous!

Dorian continued to stare. "No, you're not," he said, getting up from the bed and coming to stand by James. His hand was brushing away the black hair before the boy could protest and what he saw made his recoil in shock.

"James! What happened to you? Did you have an accident? Are you all right?"

Unable to help himself, James scrunched his shoulders over, hiding the entirety of his face that way. "Don't!" he cried, tearing up. "Don't look at me! Just don't look!" Oh, he didn't WANT Dorian to see him that way! It would announce more than anything what a failure he was, even if he *had* made a lot of money!

"Jamesie..." Dorian's arms were around him in a heartbeat. He drew the crying boy over the bed and sat them both down. "Don't be difficult. Tell me what happened. Was it a motor car accident or something?"

"Y...y..." It seemed impossible to say any of the things he thought, worried over, to tell Dorian about even the tiniest bit of it at all!! "You don't love me at all," he whispered frantically, tears slipping out faster. "I know. I know, so I got a man, like you, but.. b-b-but...'

"What?" Dorian asked, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean I don't love you at all? Why would you think that? And what's this about a man? Do you mean you slept with a man? In Scotland?"

Unable to get out more, James nodded, still weeping. Oh, it HURT to tell Dorian all of that! He couldn't tell him the even more shameful part, that he had *liked* being hurt that way, that it had made him feel better! He just couldn't!

"Did he do this to you? Is that what you're saying?" Long fingers stroked the dark hair out of James's eyes and Dorian gave him a searching look. "He shouldn't have done it, Jamesie. I mean, there's going along with a man and then there's going along..."

"I..." Oh, it was such a shameful secret! His eyes squenched tightly shut, his little face screwing up wretchedly. "I liked it!" he managed to sob hoarsely. "D-d-deser-r-rved i-it..." Because Dorian didn't love him anymore and his uncle *hated* him and he *was* just a slut, just what Robert had said, a boy who sold himself for money, and that was a slut wasn't it? Or was it a whore? Oh, either one, it didn't matter, only he knew he was one of them!

Dorian wasn't at all sure what to say. He himself had always been extremely aversive to pain, so he found it hard to empathize. Still, he tried his best, patting the younger boy's back gently. "You *don't* deserve that, Jamesie. Why would you think you would? I mean... it *hurt* didn't it? How could you have *liked* getting *hurt*? Can you explain it to me?"

"Hurt," James whispered wetly against his shoulder. "'n then it felt good, like it ought. 'n then it was over... 'n then he'd hit me, 'nd I didn't like that..." He sniffed, clinging to Dorian. "Don't go 'way again, Dorian. Don't..." Ohhh, he hated begging!

"Oh, poor boy..." Dorian sighed. "What an awful, wretched man! Ask me for advice next time, all right? You shouldn't be with someone who hits you and that's that." Holding James gently at arm's length, he said, "I *have* to go up to school. All the moving begins tomorrow, so I need to be in town. But I won't be far away and I promise I'll come and see you again in a couple of weeks, all right?"

"Can't bear it if you leave!" James whimpered wetly. "At least leave something..." He clung tightly, not wanting to be even that far apart from Dorian!

"Leave something?" Dorian asked, looking down at the miserable boy. "I... don't really have anything that I can think of... what sort of thing do you want?"

"Something of you," the little Scottish boy pleaded. "Something you touch that smells like you that I can keep with me. Please..."

The blond boy thought for a moment and then got a wicked smile on his face. He let himself fall to the mattress and then looked up at James seductively and said in a breathy voice, "Will you do me the honor of taking down my trousers?"

For a moment, James almost cringed, but... but it was *Dorian*, and that made it all right! So, he reached out, trembling fingers undoing the button and zipper and tugging them down slowly off of Dorian's hips.

The blond boy just smiled as the dark fabric parted to reveal tight silk bikini briefs in a deeply saturated red color. He wiggled his hips a bit to make them gleam in the room's dim light. "How about these?" he purred. "I have lots of other pairs in my suitcase."

That quite seemed to brighten James's eyes, his mouth rounding out just a bit though it seemed to hurt him. "Ohhh, your undies?" he squeaked out, hands coming up to wring as if wanting them desperately. "And you promise you'll come again in a few weeks?"

Dorian nodded slowly, that wicked smile still on his lips. "Why don't you come and take them off of me?"

Almost worshipfully, the dark-haired boy dropped to his knees, eyes wide as he slid down the tiny red material, sighing wistfully as it revealed Dorian's cock and the lovely blond fluff at the root of it. "Ohh," he whispered, a little sad. He wanted to, but Dorian didn't have time for him, he just knew it!

"Mmm... I've missed you terribly, Jamesie," the golden boy murmured, basking in that adoring gaze. "Won't you let me take care of this?" And here he put a hand between his legs and stroked himself to complete hardness.

"Yes..." It was a whisper, little breath caressing over him, and James took him in his mouth, a sweet, heated envelopment that was as good as ever it had been.

Dorian propped himself up on his elbows to watch. It always made it ten times better to see the dark little head bent over him that way, and James was really so *very* good at what he did!

The suckling began in earnest and Dorian let his head fall back in sheer bliss. "Harder..." he breathed.

Oh, and James *did*, just the way he liked it, sucked hard and swallowed him whole so slowly, nose nudging at his belly soon. It felt so good to do that to *Dorian*, because he knew Dorian would never do anything to him to make it bad! He wrapped his arms about the blond man's hips, worshipping him with those motions. /Ooohh.../

"Uhhhn... I want to... God, please..." Dorian was reduced to a writhing, moaning thing, lifting his hips off the bed to drive in deeper. "No... no, I need *more*," he whispered before reaching down and lifting James onto the bed, face down. Frantic fingers managed to push the younger boy's trousers and underwear down around his ankles and Dorian used his own weeping fluid to slick James's passage.

"Let me in, sweet one," he murmured and, before James could say a word, began a long, slow thrust inward.

A muffled whimper sounded, James's face buried tightly against the mattress. It hurt, it did, because he was still sore from Robert, but it was Dorian, and it would get better. Dorian would make sure that it would get better, wouldn't he??

And it did get better... better because Dorian grew wetter with every stroke, better because the blond boy knew every sensitive place inside of him and made sure they all were touched, better because Dorian's hand came around between James's legs and began stroking him in time to his thrusts. It was completely different than being with Robert, because Dorian made it feel like it was *their* rhythm, it belonged to the two of them, taking their pleasure of each other.

"So lovely, my sweet boy... my Jamesie..."

"Love you..." It was an almost delirious proclamation, rear pushing back to Dorian in desperation as he gasped, shivered, belonging so much to the beautiful blond boy. "Love you, love you, 'm yours..." Oh, and he was, forever and ever, for as long as Dorian would want him. "Ohhhh!"

"Oh, yes, *mine*," Dorian whispered, thrusting faster, eyes closed and back curled over James's to push deeper. "So good... so good... ah, I can't -" His arms tightened around the younger boy and he came, deep, deep inside of him. "God *yes*..."

Moments later, sated and sleepy, James shifted just barely. Dorian was heavy atop him but it felt so very good... "Love you," he sighed again almost hopelessly, closing his eyes. "Mmmmm."

"Such a sweet little thing," Dorian murmured, kissing him softly on the cheek as he pulled out. "You always know how to make me feel *wonderful*. Thank you..."

Turning James onto his back, the blond boy kissed him once, a long, sensuous kiss, and then rubbed noses. "I have to go -- I'm expected back at the college in..." he checked James's small bedside clock, "ninety minutes," he sighed.

"But you'll come back soon," James whispered a little forlornly. "You promised. Soon."

"Oh yes," Dorian said, standing and stretching luxuriously. "Very soon. And I'll be thinking of you, as well." His smile was a brilliant thing and he dressed slowly, as if dazed with pleasure. "Don't let anyone else be mean to you, all right?"

"Sure," James whispered, giving him a tremulous smile in return. "I won't let anybody. Just come back soon..." Oh, he knew he was repeating himself, but it broke his heart for Dorian to leave at all!!

A last kiss, a brush of long fingers against his cheek, and Dorian slipped out of the room. James could hear his soft footfalls walking down the stairs.

/One day,/ he thought to himself with a sigh. /One day, he'll be all mine.../

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