Roger Mackenzie had spent his young life pursuing an obsession with the Scottish Rebellion of 1745. He could frequently be found pouring over dusty tomes in his father’s library as a child, took to studying Scottish history in college, and still managed to find himself unsatisfied with his findings. To the outward eye, it looked as if it was his life’s passion to compile the most complete accounting of the deaths resulting from the failed rebellion. When in reality, he was in search of just one name. One name that stood out among the rest. James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.
It didn’t make any sense at all to him. Why, out of all the highlanders who participated in the crusade to put a Stuart king back on the throne, had Fraser captivated him so? Fraser had no known political ties, yet he rose quickly within the inner circle of the pretender to the throne. What factors would have influenced that ascent? He most certainly was not the only man to have been injured on Culloden who managed to walk away. Roger found himself unable to let this mystery lie.
Combing through the stacks at the National Library of Scotland had always been one of Roger’s favorite pastimes. Jumping at any chance to lose himself in the multitude of books. Each one with its own secrets pressed between their pages.
Taking this holiday in Edinburgh was more about wanting to continue his research rather than a need for rest and relaxation. Having exhausted the collections of the Highlands Society as well as those in the esteemed Lallybroch Library, Roger was in need of a new source of information. In the back of his mind he could hear the prodding voice of Mrs. Graham, warning him. She had told him on more than one occasion that he should not waste his life searching for ghosts. But his overwhelming need to learn even the most insignificant of details about this man continued to drive him.
Running his finger along the spines, he looked for anything that would pique his interest. He would stay here all day if he needed to, going through every one of these books until he found mention of Jamie. He was determined not to leave empty handed.
Pulling a rather large tome from the shelf, Roger almost didn’t notice the small book that had been wedged behind it. The size of a small notebook, it looked out of the place around the reference guides. Clearly someone had left if there, thinking it a good hiding spot. Did the owner intend for it to remain hidden, or had they secretly hoped that someone might one day be looking for it?
Settling at a table in the corner, Roger began to investigate the notebook. It was definitely not a book that belonged in the library. Someone had scribbled theories and ideas on a variety of subjects in the margins. One such note caught his attention: time travel. Roger loved a good science fiction story, but based on the formulas and the calculations present in this notebook, the author seemed to believe that it was, in fact, possible.
Never one to turn down an educational challenge, Roger produced a notebook of his own, and set to work on solving the equations. Setting aside his research on Fraser, he became interested in trying to determine if the author of this notebook was onto something; that or completely out of their mind.
Several hours and crumpled pieces of paper later, Roger sat back running a hand through his hair. Either he was beginning to lose his mind as well, or someone had been onto something. It actually made sense to him. Well, most of it did. Tapping into his knowledge of the folklore that surrounded him growing up in the Highlands, he believed that maybe this time travel thing wasn’t just for television and movies. While he was sure he would not have to go as far as finding a human sacrifice, Roger was fairly certain he could give a valid attempt at trying this out.
Making up his mind, he put his calculations away. Not wanting to waste the trip, he restarted his original search, determined to leave with at least one bit of new information on his mystery man. After that, he would leave Edinburgh in the morning to head back to Inverness.
Arriving back in Inverness only two days hence, Roger had taken the time to catch up with the Reverend before turning back to the task at hand. After making sure that he had all the supplies that he would need, Roger made his way into the early morning hours. He hadn’t wanted to arouse any suspicions with Mrs. Graham as to why he was up and about so early. And to be honest he did not want to have to explain himself, especially since what he was wearing would have only been acceptable at the Scottish Festival, not for a drive in the country. He was well aware that what he was about to do would be considered extremely daft, but there was something that kept urging him on.
Parking the car, he grabbed the bag containing both notebooks, as well as some assorted supplies that, according to the notes, were required to ensure this would actually work. Slowly he climbed the hill that would lead him to the circle of standing stones. His mind was racing.
Would this actually work? If it did work, what would he do next? Could he even find Jamie Fraser?
He tried to calm himself as the wind around him began to pick up. He knew from his research that he would have to keep his destination in his mind’s eye. Maybe if he focused on Fraser, he would be led to a time where he would be easy to locate. Based off the timeline he had been able to create, Fraser should be at his family’s ancestral home, Lallybroch. It wasn’t long until Roger couldn’t hear the roar of the wind over the buzz that seemed to flood his entire being. As if being pulled by magnets, he felt the pull towards the largest of the stones, located directly in the middle of the circle. Closing his eyes, he reached both hands forward. And as he felt the coldness of the stone beneath his palms, the world around him began to spin and fall into darkness.
Without the luxury of modern transportation, Roger half expected his journey to Lallybroch to take him much longer than it had. Maybe his haste was at the thought that he would finally get to meet Jamie Fraser. Or it could have been that he was ill-prepared to spend the night alone in the elements of the Scottish Highlands. Before long, he could see the estate in the distance. He could see quite a bit of activity on the grounds. Noting the position of the sun in the sky, Roger assumed the day’s work would be nearly completed. As he made his way further, he noticed that the courtyard contained only one other person.
“Good Day,” the figure said, turning to the direction of Roger’s voice.
“Would ye happen to be James Fraser?” he asked, knowing full well that he was. The descriptions he had been obsessing over matched enough to make the connection. What they didn’t account for was the presence that he exuded. Meeting him in person, he was bigger than life.
“Aye. Who’s asking?”
“Name’s Roger Mackenzie,” he said extending a hand in greeting. Jamie took the offered hand, giving it a solid shake.
“Mackenzie? Ye passing through from Leoch?” he inquired.
Knowing full well that the Mackenzies that Jamie was sure to know, would have come from Leoch or the surrounding village of Cranesmuir.
“Aye. On my way south to Edinburgh.”
“‘Tis quite a journey. And ye with no horse. Well, Mackenzie, welcome to Lallybroch. You’ll be staying the night with us then?”
“I wouldna want to impose.”
“Och, ‘tis nothing. Besides. We’ve some supplies to be getting in Edinburgh, and I was planning on leaving at first light. You can stay, and we’ll set off together.”
“Thank ye. Truly.”
“Think nothing of it. Let’s us get in before we’ve naught for our supper,” leading the way, Jamie welcomed Roger into his home. The smell coming from the kitchen hit him as he walked through the main door. And for the time first since he made his way through the stones, Roger was starving and ready to tuck in. And after a quick round of introductions, Roger settled at the table.
“Jamie says yer heading to Edinburgh?” questioned Ian Murray. “Ye’ll be accompanying him tomorrow then?”
“Aye, as long as he’ll have me.”
“Seems Jamie hasna grown out of his habit of picking up of strays.” Jenny muttered just loud enough for the rest of the table to hear.
Unsure of how to respond, Roger glanced from Jamie to Ian.
“Och Jenny. Leave the lad be. Ye dinna need to interrogate him,” Jamie said, coming to Roger’s defence. Wanting to ensure that Roger took no offence to his sister, Jamie attempted a wink. Roger nearly choked on his wine as a result.
Aside from the rocky start with Jenny, he was thankful for the Fraser’s and Murray's hospitality. He delighted in the stories they had to tell, welcoming him to their table like a long lost friend. What he was most intrigued by was getting first hand knowledge of the highlands after Culloden. It was interesting to see how, while most estates had gone under or faced seizure from the crown, that Lallybroch had seemed to flourish. Getting the chance to tell them all a little about himself, he told them tales of growing up a minister’s son in Inverness-shire. The food was delicious and before long Roger had gotten his fill, and retreated to the guest room. Both excited and apprehensive about leaving with Jamie in the morning.
The pair set off for Edinburgh at the break of dawn, riding along in comfortable silence. But while they didn’t share in much conversation, their body language could write novels. Though Jamie was clearly on a mission to make the trip in as little time as possible, it didn’t stop the pair from exchanging wayward glances at one another. Each time Roger has been caught staring, a blush would creep along his neckline, causing Jamie to smirk knowingly. Roger was indeed enjoying the company of the man he had longed to meet. But now that Jamie was in front of him, he started to realize that his vision of the man fell short. It seemed that all the historical accounts failed to mention the calming presence Jamie possessed. While Roger was unsure of what would happen now that he had traveled back in time, he found that the longer he spent with Jamie, the less he truly worried about it.
After a short time of riding, their horses seemed to grow restless. Hearing the sound of running water nearby, they veered off the path towards the sound. Glancing around the area, Roger realized they were close to Craigh na Dun. As Jamie led the horses in the direction of the water, to give them a break, Roger busied himself with gathering a couple of bannocks for the two to share.
Roger didn’t know what came over him as he watched Jamie bend down to wash his hands in the stream. Roger reached out to lay a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Turning him just slightly towards him, closing the gap between them, bannocks forgotten, he placed a chaste kiss on his lips. He didn’t expect it to be reciprocated, but was pleasantly surprised when Jamie not only returned the kiss, but deepend it.
“Ah Dhia! Where’d ye learn to kiss like that?”
“I said I was the son of a minister, not a monk,” Roger replied, taking a tentative step back, he waited to see Jamie’s next move.
It didn’t take long before Jamie’s lips reclaimed their position. Reaching a hand up to settle on the nape of Roger’s neck, his fingers finding purchase in his hair.
With a need to deepen this kiss, Roger allowed his tongue to gently explore Jamie’s lip, as if asking for permission. He gave it eagerly as their tongues began a dance for dominance. Reaching his arm around his waist, Jamie pulled him closer. The sensation of his need against the bulge beneath Jamie’s kilt overwhelmed him. Given the man’s size, Roger shuddered to think of what he would find.
Not wanting to wait much longer to find out, he dropped to his knees before the red-head. Tracing his fingers up his leg, until his touch created a frustrated sigh from Jamie. He wrapped his hand around his swollen member, using his thumb to swab the tip. With his free hand, he pulled the hem of the kilt high enough so that he could see the prize he sought. Jamie was much bigger than he could have imagined. Standing at full attention, surrounded by a copper forest. Bowing his head, he turned his attention first to Jamie’s balls, taking them one at a time in his mouth. He began to gently suck, while his hand began its own motion on the shaft.
Looking up to see the results of his actions, he could see that Jamie’s brilliant blue eyes had turned a darker shade, full of lust and desire. Maintaining eye contact, he moved to rake his tongue along the underside of his cock.
Jamie responded by grabbing a fistfull of Roger’s hair. Using this to his advantage, Jamie positioned him directly in line with his tip. Licking his lips, he took Jamie into his mouth. Slowly he worked his mouth along his length.
Jamie hissed as Roger took him deeper, snaking a hand around to grab ahold of his arse. He began to run a finger along his crevice. In one fluid motion Roger inserted a finger, causing Jamie to mutter Gaelic curses under his breath. Jamie threw his head back in ecstasy, the stimulation nearly too much to bear.
When he could feel that he was reaching his end, Jamie grabbed Roger by the shoulders and brought him up to eye level. Stealing a kiss before turning himself around so that his backside lined up perfectly with his arousal.
“Are ye sure this is what ye want lad?” Jamie asked, giving him the choice.
“Aye,” was all Roger could manage.
Needing no other invitation, Jamie raised the hem of both their kilts in one swift motion, and settled himself at Roger’s entrance. After spitting into his hand to provide much needed lubrication, Jamie placed kisses on Roger’s neck as he eased himself inside.
Roger was beside himself with pleasure as he felt Jamie enter him. He could feel the strength in his muscles as he held him. With their desire as elevated as it was, he was surprised at how gentle of a lover he could be. Being attentive to both their needs, Jamie slowed his pace. Bending Roger slightly, Jamie leaned forward, and reaching around, wrapped his hand around Roger. Matching his movements, he was determined to ensure that they would both reach their climax together. With one final thrust, Jamie felt himself submit to his pleasure. Roger followed not long after, coating Jamie’s hand. The pair collapsed in a heap of tartan and bodily fluids, too weak from the exhilaration to move.
A short while later, Roger, regaining the feeling in his legs, began to attempt to make his way back to the stream to clean himself up. Looking over at Jamie, he noticed that the Scot was fast asleep. He wasn’t sure if anything would come of their joining, knowing full well that this time would never be the place for him. He knew that he would never be able to explain what had transpired. But he would be taking the memories that he had made during his journey as well as firsthand knowledge of this special part his history.
Not wanting to leave Jamie, Roger braced himself as he cleaned himself up and made his way back towards the standing stone circle. As the wind blew around him, and buzz began to invade his senses, he took one last look over his shoulder in the direction of Jamie Fraser. And with outstretched arms, he touched the largest stone, and made his way back home.