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Chapter Five

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Jamie listened to Lord John build up their campfire, felt the warmth on his face though he couldn’t see the light. He laid back against the log where Grey had propped him, feeling quite useless with his eyes bound up in John’s neckcloth soaked in whisky. The gashes bloody hurt and he drank the rest of the whisky down, trying not to move his eyes or blink. Grey gave another exasperated sigh. “I dinna understand why ye keep puffing like a kettle, Major,” Jamie said, taking another swig from the flask. “Ye werena the one to get his eyes clawed out by a badger, now, were ye?”

Grey released another one of those kettle puffs. Leaves crunched under heavy boots, and a presence swept by Jamie’s side, then disappeared again. “No one, not a single soul on God’s earth, asked you to fight that badger with your bare hands.”

Before he could stop himself, Jamie frowned and the furrowing of his brow pulled at his open wounds. He hissed at the pain. “Christ. For the last time, I dinna ken the bugger was in that brush. Besides, he challenged me .” The warm weight in Jamie’s lap stiffened and let out a wee growl. He ran one hand down the puppy’s back, settling him until the growling stopped.

“I see, and if you turned down a challenge from an overgrown rodent this would reflect poorly upon your reputation, then?” Grey made a clicking noise with his tongue. “You’re fortunate I came along when I did or I’d be returning you to Helwater entirely without a face.” He let out another breath, softer this time. “Do you need some more whisky? For the pain?”

“Aye, thank ye,” Jamie said, holding the empty flask up blindly but vaguely in the direction of John’s voice. One of John’s hands closed around Jamie’s wrist to steady his hand, and then the flask and steadying hand were both gone. “And I’m fortunate that yer wee beastie came along when he did.” Jamie felt around for the dog’s ears and scratched behind them, setting the little tail to wagging, a featherlight tickling sensation against his leg. “Anyone can just shoot a badger, after all. Thank you,” he said when John pushed another flask into his hand. Christ, his face hurt like hell fire. He was going to have impressive scars.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to take you back to the house? Though, I think you may be too drunk to ride your own horse at the moment.” Grey laughed. “How do we find ourselves in such bizarre predicaments, Fraser?”

Jamie raised an arm in a poor approximation of a shrug and let it fall back to the leaves at his side. He was going nowhere under his own power. “I blame yer brother. The last seven or eight predicaments I’ve been in--in connection with you or yer family--has had his grace at the center of it.”

“Now, I blame my brother for as much as I can manage, but I would love to hear how you imagine he’s responsible for the behavior of a wild woodland badger?”

“Och, it doesna matter,” Jamie said, grinning like an imp. “It soothes my wounded pride to think he’s at fault.” He scratched at the makeshift bandage, wincing and swearing when he disturbed an inflamed gash. “Look, Major, we can either go on bickering until one of us says something regrettable, we can sit in silence until we both die of boredom, or we can find some way to pass the time. There’s a book in my pack. Why not read aloud a bit, aye?”

From the sound, Grey was moving around, then stopped to sort through Jamie’s pack. “You want me to read you from the Bible ?” His voice was coated in a thick layer of skepticism. It was easy enough to picture what the man would look like now. Face scrunched up, bottom lip pouting out. 

“Nay, dinna be daft. Keep digging, Major.”

His words were answered with more shuffling sounds and then, “ The King’s Twelve Mistresses?” Grey said, then lowered his voice, “Twelve? What does he need twelve for?” Grey mumbled, likely thinking Jamie couldn’t hear him. “Does the man have twelve cocks?”

Jamie laughed, sputtering and coughing when his whisky went down the wrong way and burnt his nose. “They’re sequential, no’ all at a time.” He winced. “Damn that wee bastard,” he muttered, trying very hard not to touch his bandage. “Do ye prefer to listen to me complain all night? I canna see or I’d read it myself.”

Grey took several crunchy steps, then thudded down beside Jamie. They weren’t touching and yet, somehow, Jamie could feel the man beside him. “Fine,” Grey said. “I definitely don’t prefer to listen to you complain.” He cleared his throat, then flipped through some pages. “Chapter One…” He flipped through more pages. “Are there twelve chapters? Christ in heaven, there are thirteen! What the devil happens in chapter thirteen!” Jamie opened his mouth but John shushed him. “No, don’t tell me. I reckon I can’t take it. Chapter One… Of all King Rod’s… his name is Rod, for God’s sake… Of all King Rod’s mistresses, his first had, by a great measure, the largest bosom. Jesus . As large as melons left too long on the vine, as sweet too. His highness loved nothing more than to drink of their sweet nectar.” John groaned, shifting beside him. “You genuinely want me to read to you about engorged, lactating breasts ?” 

“I only asked ye to read, Major, I dinna need the commentary.” The puppy in Jamie’s lap sighed in his sleep. “Either dinna think about it or try to enjoy it.” He wagged his hand at Grey. “Feel free to skip around if ye like.”

Grey huffed. “Yes, let’s. Chapter Two… Eleanor was the most lovely of all the King’s mistresses. She had soft skin, fair hair and… perhaps this one will be suitable… King Rod devoured the soft flesh between her legs like rare mutton. ‘Count yourself blessed, my dear,’ said the king, ‘That I do not take whole bites of you so I can feel you melt in my belly.’” Grey gagged, then stifled the sound. “And I’m the bloody pervert,” he grumbled. 

“Hold yersel’ together, man,” Jamie said. “It’s hyperbole, aye? Christ, dinna take that literally. Try Chapter Five. That’s the king’s Russian mistress. Ye might like that one better. Or… fetch the Bible and we can debate the wisdom of King Solomon.”

Grey hesitated, as if he might just fetch the Good Book and take God over King Rod, but the hesitation was not followed by movement, just the flipping of pages. “Chapter Five. King Rod took himself in hand. His prick was much too large for his fingers to touch, which is why he much preferred a mouth or cunt or even a willing arse. Oh God. ” Grey coughed, then choked. “Sorry, I, um… There weren’t many women, even among the king’s bounty of mistresses that enjoyed being filled in such a manner, but there was Nadia. Nadia who had introduced King Rod to many new and exotic pleasures. She was introducing him to another one now as he waited on the bed on hands and knees as she plundered inside him with her tongue, like a buxom pirate maiden searching for lost treasure.” Grey swallowed loud enough for Jamie to hear and squirmed beside him. 

Jamie let the silence stretch for several agonizing seconds. “I canna see yer face. Something strike yer fancy...Major?” He offered the flask to Grey. “Care for a dram?”

“Yes. I mean about the whisky, not the… bloody hell, just hand it over.” Grey took the flask, fingers brushing Jamie’s. Moments later, the flask was thrust back into his hand. “Where were we, oh yes… King Rod felt wet as rain between his legs, then felt a pressing unlike any he’d experienced before. The King gasped in a most unkingly manner before a sharp hand slapped down on his arse. ‘Stay still,’ Nadia said…” Grey’s voice grew deeper, darker. “‘Out there you may be king, but in here you follow my command, yes?’ The king shuddered, a thrill of passion moving through him. ‘Yes, mistress.’... you’ve read this before, Fraser?”

“Oh, aye,” Jamie answered, taking a swallow of the whisky and passing the flask back to Grey. “A few times. There isna much for me to do aside from work and read. There’s always Genesis. Or more whisky in the saddle bag. The flask is running low.”

“It’s not that… I… well, I only meant that. I didn’t know that you would enjoy reading about the sorts of activities occurring within, um, Chapter Five.”

“I distinctly recall suggesting Chapter Five for yer own benefit. Major.” 

Grey shuffled around. “Maybe I will fetch more whisky.” There was some movement, the glugging of poured liquid and then John dropped down beside Jamie again. He grabbed Jamie’s arm to thrust the flask into his hand. “It is interesting to note,” Grey spoke beneath his breath. “That you’ve considered which of these chapters would be to my benefit.” 

Jamie took the flask with both hands, letting his touch linger over the warm skin of Grey’s hand. “Aye, weel. If ye dinna like it, there’s always Revelations if ye’d prefer a little fire and brimstone.” He took a long pull from the flask. The pain was fading into the background now, his lips going pleasantly numb. “Or.” He paused, considering. “Or ye can give me a hint and I’ll tell ye which chapter to skip to next.”

“I’m not sure my precise tastes would be catered to in a book called The King’s Twelve Mistresses , but you weren’t wrong. The events of Chapter Five were far more tolerable than the previous two.”

“Aye, true,” Jamie replied, shifting his weight gingerly. His arse was falling asleep but he didn’t want to wake the puppy in his lap. “Sexes of the participants notwithstanding, what did you find ‘tolerable’ exactly?” The two men sat only a few inches apart, and Jamie felt Grey tense beside him. Sensing the oncoming protest, he hastened to add, “Call it a dying man’s wish. Humor me in my final hours.” Jamie formed his lips into an approximation of a pout that he wasn’t entirely certain met the mark.

“For one, I appreciated the lack of atrocious metaphor. At least, thus far..” Grey drew in a heavy breath. “For two, what Miss Nadia was doing to the king… well it does happen to be an enjoyable experience.”

"Oh, aye?" Jamie raised an eyebrow, regretted it immediately as the gash across his right eye split wide again, and took a swig of whisky. "And would ye be referring to having yer arse slapped? Or someone's tongue in it?"

“Give me some more of that whisky, will you?” Grey took the flask from Jamie. “If you must know, I would be… amenable to both under the right circumstances.” 

Jamie made a hum of acknowledgement. His head was beginning to swim and he was glad to have his eyes covered. "If memory serves, I believe that chapter does include a wee bit of metaphor. I dinna ken how atrocious it is. Ye could read on, if ye like. Or tell me more about these 'right circumstances.'"

“I reckon it’s safer for us both if I return to King Rod… that name, still. Jesus.” Grey laughed. “Nadia leaned down for a full bite of the King’s rump and slapped it again with even greater force. ‘If you keep your manners, then I will give you a special treat. Two or even three of my fingers so you may know what it is like to be taken as a woman.’” Grey moved beside him again. He hissed and there was the sound of his breeches rumpling. “It’s oddly hot outside for this time of day, is it not?”

"I thought it was the whisky. I have had a wee bit more than ye, I suspect." Jamie felt the unhinged urge to laugh. He succeeded only in reducing it to a snorting sputter, which of course redoubled the urge, and he did laugh. He leaned forward and tugged the back of his shirt out of his breeches, fanning the fabric to move some air across his back. The puppy whined and hopped off of Jamie's lap with an irritable huff. "Weel, go on, Major. Does King Rod keep his manners or no?"

“Under most circumstances, King Rod would not take orders such as this or allow himself to be degraded in such a manner, but he’d learned to appreciate a place where all responsibility did not fall to him and he could lay down his burdens. As Nadia proceeded to fill him up, he began only to think of more, to wish the woman could fit her whole hand inside him. ‘If I had a prick, your highness. I would have you now.’ Christ Almighty.”

“Nay, Major,” Jamie said, trying to be subtle about adjusting his breeches and likely failing miserably. “Nay, that would be the other book.” He grinned, not caring that it hurt his eyes. “So our hero was a verra good King Rod, aye?”

“I should probably be offended that you assumed I would enjoy this chapter, but given my present state, that would make me quite the hypocrite.” Grey squirmed again. “Maybe we should read the Bible instead, though, if I remember correctly, there are some lewd passages in there as well.”

“I didna assume,” Jamie replied. “I guessed, and I was right, was I no’? Here.” He reached blindly over to Grey and felt around for his arm, followed it to his hand. With a little more fumbling, he found that it was indeed the hand holding the flask, and he maneuvered his hand and flask upward, toward the general vicinity of Grey’s mouth. “ Slainte , Major.” 

Grey swallowed, then when the flask was pulled away he said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk, Jamie Fraser. Is there a chapter about that in your book?”

Jamie tapped at his chin in exaggerated contemplation, lips pursed in thought. “Chapter Eight? Or was it Nine? I canna recall. One of the French mistresses is the daughter of the royal vintner. But I dinna think ye’ll appreciate that one so much. She comes to the king’s bed with grapes in her cunt and feeds them to him one by one while he pleasures her with his mouth.”

Grey snorted. “That was a… correct assumption. But now I’m curious, do you appreciate it? It’s only fair you share at least as much as I have on the matter.”

“Weel, I canna say how useful such a skill may truly be, and I wouldna think it makes much difference in the quality of the wine, but… it’s an intriguing thought.” Jamie scratched his chin. “But I think I find Chapter Five a wee bit more...compelling, personally.”

“I reckon we have that in common then. I don’t mean that , but you know… it would be something to have a king at one’s command. Not the English king, that would be…” Grey made a quiet noise of disgust. “But you know a handsome king. God, I can’t decide if I should stop drinking the whisky or drink more.”

Jamie laughed. “Whichever will make ye keep talking. I like to hear ye speak so freely.” He gestured at the makeshift bandages over his eyes. “And I canna even see ye turn red. I can hear it, mind.”

“More whisky, then. Definitely,” John said and Jamie brought the flask to his mouth again and tipped it back. “Much obliged, Fraser. I have to say I’m somewhat glad you can’t see how discussing this… with you has affected me… and I don’t simply mean the blush.” 

Jamie let his hand hover between them, not reaching out but not pulling away. “Ye could tell me, Major,” he said, voice even and low. “Or show me, if ye prefer.”

“God, Jamie.” Grey reached over again, grabbed the flask out of Jamie’s hand, swallowed loudly, then tossed the container aside. He took Jamie’s wrist and guided it to a hard firmness straining against fabric. John gasped, then let go of Jamie’s arm. “Sorry?”

Jamie didn’t remove his hand. “Ye dinna have to apologize. Or did ye no’ notice I’m affected much the same way? Since we’re on the topic, why don’t ye tell me what ye’d like to do about it? Write Chapter Fourteen.”

A dark groan tore out of John’s throat. “ Oh. ” He breathed. “Jamie. Touch me. And keep touching me. Let me touch you. I’m not sure I will truly believe this is not some sort of hallucination until I can actually feel you under my hand. And God, the things I would do to you if I had my way. It would make Nadia, Eleanor, the damn French vintner’s daughter, blush. You have no bloody idea how much I want you, Fraser. And I have no idea if you’re going to strangle me for saying any of this, but goddammit my cock is so hard I cannot bring myself to care!”

“Aye, I can feel that,” Jamie said, cupping his hand around the bulge of John’s cock and applying some experimental pressure. He held out his other hand. “Give me yer hand, Major.”

Grey did as he was told and laid his hand on Jamie’s unoccupied hand. “I have to ask, and I'm a fool for it, but I have to ask… or at least, ensure that you’re not just doing this to humor me. That there is something in it for you. Just because you find yourself aroused, that doesn’t necessarily mean you want this. And I need you to understand that I’m not interested, if you’re not interested.”

Jamie brought Grey’s hand to his lap, letting out a low moan when John’s palm connected with his own erection. “Aye, I’m interested. I do want it and I want you.”

A whine fell from John’s lips as he rubbed Jamie, squeezing and then pressing with the heel of his hand. There was experience to the touches that went beyond what a man would learn from touching himself. “I wish I could see it, though I reckon it isn’t fair because you can’t see me. But, God, what I wouldn’t give to have you on your hands and knees for me like that bloody king of yours, your cock and balls hanging between your thighs while I took you apart with my tongue and my fingers and you wouldn’t need my whole hand because I do have a prick.”

Christ ,” Jamie hissed and squeezed John’s cock through his breeches. “I believe ‘enjoyable’ was the word ye used to describe the experience, under the right circumstances. Do ye suppose this qualifies?”

“You would let me… have you?” 

Jamie nodded. “Aye, I would. I will. Ye’ll have to be my eyes.”

“I will, but you won’t need your eyes much for this, Jamie. I know what I’m doing, and I’ll guide you through it.” John laughed quietly. “But I will draw the line at eating grapes out of your arsehole, if it’s all the same to you.” John moved away from Jamie’s touch and then there was weight on Jamie’s thighs, a bulging hardness against his own cock instead of a hand. Fingers pressed up on his chin and John whispered, “Let me start by kissing you?”

He’d been about to chuckle at John’s comment about the grapes, but the feeling of him settling down astride Jamie’s thighs made the breath catch in his throat. Jamie put his hands on the tops of John’s legs, tentatively at first, then more certain, felt the warm strength of them. Letting his face be redirected, Jamie licked his lips and nodded. “Aye.”

And then there was a mouth covering his, warm and insistent, burning with the taste of whisky. John parted Jamie’s lips with a firm tongue. The fullness now in his mouth a reminder of the fullness to come in other, lower, more private, places. “I’m going to take you apart, Jamie Fraser.” Grey moved his lips to Jamie’s neck, where they played along his flesh rough and insistent. “I’m going to have you begging for me, do you understand? It’s going to feel so good, that you’re going to be crying for my cock.” Buttons popped, one by one. John took Jamie’s hand and wrapped it around a warm, velvet shaft. “You feel this? I’m going to put this inside you, finally. “ Grey leaned in, whispered in Jamie’s ear. “Where it belongs.”

“Oh God , Major, yes” Jamie groaned, suddenly cursing the blindness keeping him from seeing John like this. He slid his loose fist up and down the length of Grey’s prick, gauging the length and girth and leaned his head toward John’s face, so close. The makeshift bandage--John’s neckcloth, Jamie thought with a little thrill--rasped against Grey’s cheek, making the hair on Jamie’s neck stand on end. 

John growled, a low sound in his throat, then tore at Jamie’s breeches and wrapped his hand around the strained length. He kissed Jamie again, and while they were kissing, managed to bring their cocks together, smooth and slick, as they moved. “Beautiful. Oh Christ, Fraser. Our cocks look beautiful together. I wish you could see this.” John’s thumb pressed against the slit of Jamie’s prick, then rubbed under the head. “I’m starting to understand what the king meant by wanting to swallow someone down like rare mutton.”

"I thought," Jamie gasped, leaning his head back on the log he was propped against, "we decided that was-- John --hyperbole." He wanted to rip the cloth from his eyes, wanted to see, his fingers twitching with the need to watch. Jamie brought a hand between them instead, felt his way along his own body until his large hand settled around both of them, fingers brushing John's hand.

“Yes,” John moaned. “Feel my prick, Jamie. Our pricks.” He rolled off Jamie, suddenly then nudged him. “Turn over,” he commanded, then John helped pose Jamie, hands on the log, knees in the dirt. He tore off Jamie’s breeches, the stitching tearing. He rubbed big hands over Jamie’s buttocks, spreading them open. “I want to devour you.”

"God yes," Jamie gasped, biting his lower lip against a whimper at the rough handling. He tossed his head to one side then the other, trying to catch a glimpse through the cloth over his eyes. A shadow, a flash from the campfire, anything that could give him the slightest image of John in all his commanding glory, but all he saw was black. 

John brought his mouth and his tongue between Jamie’s legs, cupping his balls in his hand as he kissed and licked and mewled, drooling, as if this were a feast. He bit Jamie’s arse, then kissed the spot, then bit it again. His hand lifted, then came back down, making Jamie’s leg tremble. The touch wasn’t hard enough to be considered a hit, but there was a question in it. “What about this?” John’s breath was hot on his hole. His hand came down again, this time harder. Still not too hard but enough to draw out a gasp. “Will you submit to me this way, too?”

Jamie bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to beg and plead for more. Aye, of course. Just please, do it again, give me more. Make me obey, mark me, claim me, show me how good it can hurt. Jamie thought all of these things before the sting had faded from his flesh. But when he opened his mouth to give voice to his thoughts, he couldn't form any words but, "Aye, Major. I will."

“You’re perfect, Jamie Fraser. Complete perfection.” John smacked his arse hard, it had to sting the man as much as it did him. “No, no not perfect. You’re so much better than perfect. You’re real.” John laid a warm kiss on his back. “And flawed and raw. You’re a man. ” John slapped his hand down again. This time on the other cheek. “I’d give you everything. Do you know that? I’d claw my own heart out of my chest and lay it in your hands and sometimes, God help me.” Again. “I want to do the same to you, hold your beating heart in my hands, then place it within my own chest so I can keep it safe beside mine. Jamie, my God, you can’t have any idea.” He brought down his hand again, sharp as a whip, right where Jamie was most tender. “I want to make you mine.”

Jamie let loose a babbling string of mindless, broken curses in two or three languages.  With his sight gone, his other senses were so much sharper, everything in greater focus. He could smell the earthy scent of the fallen log near his face, the bitter scent of their bodies, hot and alive by the fire. Jamie bit his lip to keep from crying out when John smacked him again and tasted the faint copper of his own blood. And the sounds, dear God, he swam in them, John’s voice, his hand connecting with Jamie’s arse, the gasping breaths from both of them. He found English again and begged, “Do it, please. I want ye to make me yours. Show me, please, Major, please.”

Grey spit behind him and warmth spilled down over Jamie’s stinging skin. Then, he felt fingers being pressed through his lips and held down against his tongue. “Take it in your mouth like you would my cock.”

Jamie froze for only a moment, and on impulse closed his lips around John’s fingers, suckled, his tongue twitching under the insistent pressure. He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his closed lips, breathing hard through his nose, memorizing the smell of Grey’s skin, the taste of his fingers.

“I wish that were my cock,” John said. “Your tongue… it’s magnificent.” He slid the fingers out of Jamie’s mouth, and moments later, there was pressure against Jamie, tight, exhilarating pressure and then John had a finger inside him. “You’re tight.” A hand rubbed Jamie’s belly, then wrapped around his cock. “Relax, open up for me.” John slowly thrust that single finger in then out then in again, and again. “Tell me how that feels. And I don’t only mean physically, Jamie. Tell me what it means to you to know I’m watching my fingers sink into you, to know I’m preparing you to take me.”

Oh God ,” Jamie whined, a broken, desperate sound, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “It’s intimate,” he gasped, willing himself to relax, falling through the darkness into the safety of Grey’s words, of his touch. “Intrusive, but--John--good. No one has done that before you, John. Only you.”

“Good, but I want you to know,” John slipped in a second finger. “Even if there had been a man before this, even if there had been a dozen, it wouldn’t change anything. Do you understand? I would still make you all for me.” After a few final thrusts, John pulled his fingers back out and spit again. He pushed down on Jamie’s hips and Jamie felt something new, something smoother, press against him. “This may hurt some at first, but I won’t let it be too much. I need you, Jamie. I think I’ll die if I wait another moment to have you, to take you. Let me love you on the inside where no one else ever has,” John said, then pushed in. 

“Please, God, John, yes,” Jamie murmured over and over, choking it off with a gasp when John breached him. He was right, it did hurt, but it was bearable, just the sting of feeling stretched to the limit. His own cock twitched and leaked with every inch. Jamie buried his face against his own bicep, let John’s words and touch soothe him, gave himself over to it. At last he felt the solid warmth of Grey’s body flush against him and the pain eased, overcome by the decadent sensation of being filled.

“How is this better than I imagined?” John cried, gripping his fingers into Jamie’s hips. “I’d already assumed it would be the best moment of my life and you still manage to exceed expectations. Take the time you need to adjust, and then tell me and I’ll stop holding back. I’ll take you as you were meant to be taken.” 

Jamie turned, tried to look over his shoulder but of course it was useless, and he let out a frustrated growl. He reached back with his left arm, found John’s hand, traced his knuckles, the point where his own flesh bowed to John’s fingers. Moving his hand farther back, Jamie felt the seam where they were pressed together, then down the firm muscle of John’s thigh. He nodded. “Aye,” he breathed. “Aye, I’m ready.”

Jamie,” John called out, then pulled back before sinking all the way back in. He kept on and on, at a brutal, wonderful, dizzying pace. “I wish you could see this. Next time, we’ll do it in front of a mirror so you can see how strong you look like this, just taking everything I give you. You’re beautiful when you yield. All that muscle and power just softening under me. God. Take me. Take me, Jamie.” A strong hand gripped in the space between neck and shoulder. “Take me.” John let out a shattered gasp. “And don’t ever give me back.”

One hand braced against the log, the bark crumbling and digging into his palm, Jamie reached up to grip John’s wrist, anchoring himself to him. “John, oh God, John ,” he cried, digging his fingers into Grey’s arm, feeling the solid line of bone, strong muscle, bruising the flesh. “Mine now.” Jamie pried John’s hand from his shoulder and pulled his arm forward. It dragged John closer, his chest to Jamie’s back, and Jamie kissed the forearm he’d seized, penance for the bruising. “Mine, John, all for me.” Skimming his teeth over John’s skin, Jamie pressed his lips to Grey’s arm, kissing, nipping, sucking. He whined. “Dear God, John, I’m going to come just from yer cock.”

“Yes, do it. You don’t need anything else, do you? Just the feeling of me buried deep inside you because I am yours. Every inch of me. Always. Come, Jamie, so I can empty myself into you. In all ways.”

Jamie pressed back against John, clawing his blunt fingernails into the skin of Grey’s arm. Hot pleasure tore through him like lightning and he spilled, spattering onto the dry leaves beneath him. Over and over he cried and gasped “John,” and “Major,” and finally, “My lord,” with a great deal of emphasis on the “my” .

“Mine, yes, mine and yours.” John grunted, pushing himself in with hands grasped tight to Jamie. He laid his cheek to Jamie’s sticky back. They stayed there for a moment, nothing to say beyond the sound of their breathing. Then, gently, John slipped out. His hands moved softly down Jamie’s back to his arse. A thumb pressed on his entrance and John’s seed pooled out in a warm trickle. John swept it up, the motion followed by a wet smack and a quiet whimper. Then, there was a mouth and tongue there again, the pressure emptying him. John moved away and then a hand settled on his neck, knuckles on his chin. John’s nose was against his--a silent request-- kiss me, when I taste like you and me. 

Jamie closed the narrow space and sealed his lips to Grey’s, licking into his mouth. He held John there with the fingers of one hand twisting into his hair, basking in the smell and feel and taste of John, of them both. The corner of Jamie's right eye stung, sweat or tears running into the wound there. But all that mattered was kissing John and tasting him, both of them. 

At last, Jamie pulled back and whispered into John's ear, his lips brushing along the delicate skin there. "I wish I'd been able to see ye. I want to watch ye next time when ye master me and make me submit."

John ran a gentle finger over the neck cloth bandage. “I don’t know if it’s something that would interest you, but… if when you’re healed, you’d like to master me, you wouldn’t hear a single complaint from me.”

That painted a tantalizing picture in Jamie’s mind. The man who had just claimed him so completely, who could do it again with a word, with a touch. With a glance? Would Jamie recognize it when John looked at him again and thought of Jamie as he had just been? Yes and yes , he thought. But the thought of Lord John Grey, laid out under him, begging and blissful and falling apart under his own commanding hand made Jamie’s mouth go dry. “Aye,” he said, swallowing hard and twisting the tangled ends of John’s hair in his fingers. “It would.”