A/N: This very short story just popped into my head last night. It's rough and unedited but I thought it was rather sweet and touching so I figured I'd post it as I have no intention of doing anything more with it. This is NOT the Xmas story promised.

One-Shot fiction.

One Love

"Mr. Graves, you send that boy there up to the house when he finishes that row. Understood?" Jonathan St. Clair's words came out sharp with authority despite having a silken handkerchief covering his nose and mouth in an effort to keep any dust caused by dirt the slaves struck up as they plowed the field out of his air passages.

The headmaster, a tall white man who was so browned from the sun he stood in constantly that he nearly looked like one of the slaves he saw to on a daily basis, immediately snapped to attention when the landowner's son gave him a direct order. Despite being a white man, he knew that old Mr. St. Clair didn't take to kindly to his help disobeying his kin and such an offense could cost him one of the whippings he himself served out on a daily basis if not his job. "Yes, sir. Which one you talkin' bout? They all look the same to me," he asked as he looked over the many negroes that were at work before him.

"Fifth row. I mean what I said, as soon as he is finished that row."

"Will the task you set for him take long, Mr. St. Clair? Should I just bring one of them boys from the hog pens over to take his place?"

"You do that," Jonathan said with a sniff and a wave of his handkerchief just before turning on his heel and heading towards the main house where he and his family lived. The house, so large and luxurious as it was with it's two stories and wide, wrap around porch had little in common to the slave quarters which consisted of several square cabins made out of shabby wood that had long ago been in need of repair. The buildings still stood though so the landowner put little belief into what the grounds keeper suggested when it came to the cabins.

Graves watched the man walk away before turning to his task. "Sampson, you get your arse on over here, boy. Artie," he called to one of the slave handlers a few yards away. "You send one of them lazy ass women to get Jethro from the hog pens. He's gonna need to replace this boy here."

"Yes, sir?" the slave, Sampson, who had been ordered to come forth asked the headmaster as he ran his ragged, dirt stained sleeve over his sweat soaked forehead.

"Young St. Clair wants you at the big house. You do what the man says, you hear me? I hear one complaint that you aint done right by the task he done gave you then it's a whoopin you got to look forward to. You hear me, boy?"

Sampson, well used to the threats nodded. "Yes, headmaster, sir."

"Well, go on then. What the hell you standing here for after I done told you what needs doin?" the man huffed, popping the black man in the back of his head as he walked past.

The man continued on, nodding to a few fellow slaves here and there as he made his way to the big house. Going 'round back, he entered through the servants entrance that led through the kitchen. "Smells mighty nice in here, mama," he said to his mother, moving over to stand beside her as the woman stood at the wooden counter peeling large potatoes and chopping them for the stew pot. "Sure hope some of those fine potatoes make it out back."

The older black woman smiled at her eldest and shook her head. "Master didn't get no tatoes for us this week, Sampson."

"Don't matter, mama. Whatever it is you'll make it good. Ya always do," he tried for his best smile and squeeze her shoulders tightly.

Old Mary, as she was referred to by the white family she served, just kept smiling. "Head on 'bout your task, son. You know the Master don't like waitin."

Sighing, he gave his mother one last squeeze before heading out into the lobby. Making sure no one saw him, he made quick work of the steps and made his way over to the West wing. Finding the appropriate door, he didn't bother knocking, just looked about to make sure he wasn't spotted before entering the room. Once inside, he leaned back against the door, his eyes closed as his head rested back against the cool wood door. This being the first time he had been able to rest all day, he was basking in it.

"It's about time you got here. Here I've been waiting practically all day while you're lollygagging around as if you weren't just summoned!"

Sampson cracked open an eye and looked over the white man sitting on the chaise a half dozen feet away. Frowning at the man, he closed his eyes again and sighed. "Hush for a moment now, I'm resting."

"Well I never!"

Shoving away from the door, Sampson opened his arms just in time to receive a wintergreen scented dandy into his arms. Leaning down, he wasted no time in capturing the white man's mouth, his hands going down to squeeze a pert ass. "Yeah you have," he murmured against those sweet lips. "Keep calling me away from them there fields and you gonna have to explain to the headmaster whys it is that I'm so special."

Jonathan shoved away from the man with a laugh and headed over to take up his previous position on the chaise. "You know damn well why you're special."

"Do I now?"

The white man grinned and looked over his best friend since childhood. For years while he was a youngster his father had spent months and months away on this business venture or that, not unlike the time he spent away now, Jonathan had found himself alone and friendless. And remarkably bored. As a rich, pampered son of a well known Southern landowner, Jonathan had enjoyed all the perks of life and every single one of them by his lonesome. He received any convenience he wanted, any toy or pony. His parents had spare no expense. They had also spared to time for their only son which quickly sent the curious boy out into the fields, surveying the help.

He'd found a slightly older boy on his very first venture out. The colored boy had been hauling mule manure and Jonathan had asked him why he would wish to do much a menial task. The boy hadn't had a clue what he was talking about, of course, but that didn't stop him. He'd immediately pulled the boy away from his work and screamed bloody murder when the headmaster came to order the boy back to work. He'd gotten his way, of course, and had found his first playmate. Each morning he'd go out and find Sampson and bring him to the main house to play, his mind not wrapping around or even caring about the fact that his new friend was a colored boy, a slave.

Unfortunately his father had come home a few months later and had been enraged at the very idea that his only son and heir was lowering himself to play with some negro boy. He'd cast Sampson from the house and ordered him whipped for daring to enter the main house and mix with his betters. Jonathan had threw a fit, of course, and demanded his playmate back. It hadn't worked. Instead his father had merely brought his distant cousin to replace Sampson to keep his son busy. The old headmaster had even been given strict orders all the while to keep the heir away from the negro children. Thoroughly cutting off any plots or attempts the child had come up with to see his best friend.

Years and years passed, Jonathan had gone off to school a child and come home a young man of sixteen. And home he'd stayed, insisting on attending a local university instead of the out of state one his father recommended. Things were no different, his father was home no more often and he was just as lonely as before. And he still remembered. Still remembered his best friend, his only friend, and still gazed outside the window looking for a figure he knew he could no longer recall even if he wanted to. Eight years had shaped him into a man and no doubt had done the same to the boy he called friend.

Then one day, a miracle happened. The old headmaster died and with him Jonathan's father's order that his son should not come near the slave quarters. Mr. Graves had been hired shortly after and the heir found himself outside, walking the grounds the very next day. It took him a full three days to actually find Sampson however, and only then because he had found out that Old Mary was the man's mother. She had directed him, however warily, towards the woodshed. Excited, he had hurried over to the shed to greet his long lost friend. What he saw took Jonathan's breath was taken by what he saw.

Sampson was now a grown man of twenty - he knew, he'd kept track all these years - and with his age came a man's body. The negro man he came upon was tall, much taller than himself, with a chest sculpted from long days at work. A chest, he had noted with a wowed gasp, that was in clear view of whoever happened to pass the man. As scandalous as it was, the man was shirtless! And in the daytime no less while doing his duties.

Jonathan had felt a strange sensation wash over him even as his manhood had begun to harden. The friendship he had felt so long ago for the boy was turning into something much more lewd as he stared at the man who soon paused in his work to stare back at him - and then down to his trousers which were rather embarrassingly tented. Sampson, Jonathan had noted, seemed somewhat appalled for a moment as he reached for his tattered shirt to cover himself before something in his expression changed. The black man seemed to recall him.

The heir had immediately invited the slave to the main house and had been forced to downright insist when he was refused. He'd shown the man to his room where he instructed Old Mary herself to serve himself and his guest in his room. Sampson had eaten like a starved man while the white teen had devoured his old friend's body with his eyes.

That night had been their first attempt at love making. The pair, through trial and error, had since mastered the art.

"What're you thinkin 'bout, Jonathan?"

The man in question blinked up and leaned into the sweaty man's touch when his cheek was cupped. "Thinking about you and how we met. How delicious you looked in the woodshed all those years ago. Just as sweaty and handsome then as you are now."

Sampson grunted and kneeled before his lover of eight years, a slight shuttering feeling overtaking his chest at the way the man leaned into him. "How much time do we have?"

"I've instructed the groundskeeper to inform the headmaster that you are repairing several walls and items within in my suite which will keep you occupied for several days. As for my father, I received word from him today. He is traveling Southbound to inspect some property there. I was told not to expect him until late next month." he assured him, leaning in for a brief kiss. Then, "I had a bath drawn up for you. It's still warm. Besides, you need a shave."

Sampson smiled and rubbed a hand over the scruff he had let grow these last few days. Working as he was of late in the fields, he was awoken well before sunrise and worked well past dusk. There had been no time to shave or even bathe in the creek behind the slave quarters. "Thank you, lovely."

Jonathan laughed at the endearment even as his eyes fair devoured his lover as the man began to strip where he stood. Sampson had taken to calling him such a preposterous thing after a woman who had visited upon his father's suggestion had attempted to call him such. She hadn't lasted long, no women ever did when it and no woman ever would. Already forced to hide his love of a man and a slave, he refused to force himself into a sham of a marriage. Besides, in that particular case the darling had been caught by the headmaster being serviced by a young negro boy only just reaching his majority. Jonathan remembered it well, perhaps the lady and himself had a bit more in common than he first assumed.

Sampson wasted no time in moving to the room just beside the one his lover lounged in and submerging his body as best he could in the lukewarm water that filled the elegant tub. The water immediately clouded around him, so caked with dirt was he, but there was little he could do to help it. Picking up the soap on a tray just next to the tub that had obviously been meticulously prepared for the heir, he washed himself thoroughly before getting from the tub. A towel wrapped around his nether regions, he went about shaving and even took the time to take a bit off the top of his head. He knew what his man liked. Jonathan preferred he keep his hair very low as it was the day in the woodshed so long ago. It was a difficult task to accomplish when grooming one's own self but he managed it.

Heading back into the bedroom, he smiled as his lover immediately rose when he walked in the room and came into his embrace once more to give him a thorough, deep kiss that instantly had Sampson's cock standing at attention. He had no problem with budging his engorged flesh against the shorter man's lower belly and grunted his approval when Jonathan dropped to his knees before him.

Tugging away the fluffy terry cloth his lover never used properly even after all these years, Jonathan buried his face in the man's groin, inhaling his unique musk laced with the scented soap. "Mmmm," he moaned, "I've missed this so much."

"Then take what is yours, Jonathan," he murmured, flexing his hips. "Take me into your mouth."

The younger male had no problem doing as requested and ran his silken tongue up the dark, velvety cock before him. His lover's cock was long and thick, topped with a bulbous head that, when strained, shown slightly red beneath the darkness. It was something Jonathan aimed for in pleasuring Sampson, to see that head flush beneath his dark skin, to strain against his tongue before giving in and giving away his essence. With that in mind, he sucked the head into his mouth as his hands went to the base, holding the cock away from the colored man's muscled stomach.

Sampson moaned, his large hand threading in the thick blonde locks as he urged more of himself into the man's mouth. "Yes, Jonathan," he groaned, his body tightening with his readiness.

It had been too long and his body was overly sensitive. Almost two months since he'd had this, had his man. And years still since he had any other person. He'd mated with one woman during one of the rare times when his Jonathan was called away from home exactly one year after they had fallen for one another. He'd told his lover, of course, and the white man had been so distraught at what he claimed was a betrayal that it had taken another four months past that for Jonathan to even speak to him again. And even then it was only after Sampson himself had fallen to his knees at the man's feet, begging for his love to return to him. It was explained then and made clear that relations with anyone beyond the two of them was a betrayal and would result in the demise of their relationship. Neither man could bear the thought and neither had ever again sought out any other sort of relief,

"Pull off, lovely, I want to put my seed inside you. S'been too long."

The blonde immediately rose, perhaps a bit too hastily in his excitement as his head bumped his lover's chin as he came up. He didn't seem to notice however as he moved to the chest he kept locked at the end of his bed and retrieved the scented oil so many ladies and men alike wore to avoid bathing. Jonathan bathed much more than regularly, much to the curiosity of his peers, but kept in the oil for one purpose.

Placing the glass bottle on the night stand, he untied his robe, revealing his smooth white body to the love of his life even as he crawled onto the bed. "How do you want me, my Sampson?"

The large, black man licked his lips at the delightful sight of his lover's arse, so pert and inviting, tipped up in the air as Jonathan stared back at him. With a low groan, he climbed up on the bed and slid his hands up the back of the man's thighs to his arse, his thumbs holding the cheeks open so he could get a good look at the delightfully pink, wrinkled opening. Reaching blindly for the oil, he bathed his fingers in it before moving back to his beloved's opening to which, he inserted a thick finger.

"Mmmm, I want more, my love. Please," Jonathan murmured from where his top half rested on his pillow. "I don't want to wait any longer."

"You probably need preparing, Jonathan. 'Member how tight you were last time? You couldn't make love to me for a whole day afterwards on account of me not preparing you."

The white man just whimpered and humped his ass back on the thick finger within him.

Pleased to gain his way, Sampson leaned down and kissed a lily white cheek before adding another finger. Once more and he was convinced in his partner's readiness. Using much of the oil on his slab, he pressed himself into the man's bottom. The sight of his dark flesh disappearing in the white man giving him an extra thrill as he began to pump.

Jonathan groaned and rocked back. "Yes, yes, yes," he continued to chant over and over as his lover plowed into him.

Sampson too it slow at first, his hand wresting on the man's thin hips as he thrust inside. He still didn't understand why his Jonathan liked being made love to in suck a way but it seemed pleasurable to the man and Lord knew it felt amazing to him so he did not complain, just continued to pleasure his man.

The slow pace satisfied the couple only a while longer but far too soon, Sampson was hunched over the blonde, hands on either side of him and braced on the bed as he pounded into the man hard and deep, his body sending shock waves of pleasure over him that promised an amazing release if he would only keep pace.

Jonathan was feeling it too and soon found himself spilling his seed all over the thick bedspread beneath him which, of course, spurned his lover's ecstasy. This was one of his favorite parts, feelings himself being filled up inside by the essence of the only person on God's green earth he had ever and would ever love.

Sampson rolled to the side of him and pulled his white dove into his arms. "Will it ever not be so good?" he asked, a yawn following shortly after.

"No," he smiled, shoving his lover playfully at his words. Noting how tired the man was, he immediately pulled a blanket that had been resting at the bottom of the bed over them. "Are you certain you want to sleep so soon? Dinner will be brought up shortly."

"Wake me for it," he murmured, his eyes already closed.

Jonathan just cupped his man's cheek and kissed his thick lips once more as they settled in for the night.


"You're going to sell him?" Jonathan practically yelled at his father across the dinner table, unmindful of his mother who sat to the right of his father. "You can't!"

"Really, Jonathan, what is your obsession with the negro man?" his mother, Mrs. Louise St. Clair, said in a droll voice. "Even as a child you insisted on keeping him about."

His father merely scowled at him. "I can and I will. You seem to forget that those negroes out there belong to me. I promised Mr. Cavanaugh a good set of stock and I mean to see it through. The headmaster chose him-"

"He can choose another!"

"And I agree."

"Father-" Jonathan started, his heart pounding.

"No. This following Tuesday, the slaves will be sent over to the Cavanaugh's and that is final."

The blonde scowled in an attempt to hide the tears that flooded his eyes. Rising, he knocked his goblet over in a show of displeasure before heading up to his room. He had to do something! A million ideas passed through his head and none would assist him in his required goal. None but one.

Late that night Jonathan, dressed in all black so as to blend into the night, slipped from the house and out back to the slave quarters. Remembering to count the buildings as he passed to ensure he made his way to the proper cabin, he paused at eight. Knocking lightly on the door, he was pleased when it was Sampson himself who answered the door.

"Jonathan?" his voice was low as he stepped outside. "What're you doin here? You know how much trouble-"

"They're going to sell you!" Jonathan had tried to keep himself put together but actually seeing his love and knowing what was to come had him flinging himself in his man's arms.

"Shhhh," Sampson murmured, holding the man to him as he glanced about. Despite seeing no one, he kenw it was better safe than sorry and dragged the white man around the side of his family's cabin. "What's this nonsense you talkin?"

The blonde glanced up with watery blue eyes, his arms never leaving his lover's waist. "M-my father just told me tonight. You and another slave will be sent over to another family. He means to ship you away like your some damned piece of property."

"Hush, now," Sampson said, holding the man a little tighter even as his heart clenched. He had been one of the lucky ones, having never been sold and taken away from his family like many other slave boys. Truth be told, he had been lucky to get as many years as he did. But that didn't make this any easier. It didn't make leaving his Jonathan any more bearable.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Jonathan pulled away and stared up at the much taller man. "We have to leave here. We have to get you out. The northern states don't allow one man to own another. We can start a whole new life."

"Lovely, you can't be talking about what I think-"

Jonathan's expression turned mulish. "I am going with you, Sampson. You're the love of my life and I want to be with you always. Don't you want to be with me just as much?" Lord, how he was scared to hear the answer. In the back of his head he wondered if the only reason he had Sampson and the man gave in to him and his desires was because he was the master's son.

"You know I do. But you willing to give this up?" Sampson glanced in the distance at the big house. "What kind of life would you have with me, Jonathan? Even if I make it away from here, and the odds of that happenin aint good, I aint gonna have no kind of life where I'd have fancy doodads and people to cook for me."

"But you'll be free. Free to make your own decisions," he bit his lip. "Free to be with me."

"You think folks gonna put up with two men living together. Everything would be secret then just like now-"

"But no one could take you away from me, damn it!" Jonathan snapped. "Answer me honestly, Sampson, do you love me? Really love me or had all these years been just -"

"Don't even finish that sentence. You know how I feel about you," he growled, hands squeezing his lover's hips tightly at the mere thought of his lover being so hurt by such an untrue thought. "I do love you," he finally sighed. "And if you are thinkin we can make it, then I wanna try. Together."

Jonathan was so happy that he kissed him right then and there before abruptly remembering where he was. Pulling away, he glanced around nervously. "Tomorrow my father is heading over to the Cavanaugh's to see about payment before your delivery. I'm going to go shopping and collect some funds. I will need a manservant."

"Tomorrow?" Sampson was surprised at how quickly his lover planned for this to happen.

Jonathan nodded. "Tomorrow. I send for you tomorrow around noon." Pulling away, he fleed to the main house.

Sampson watched him go before heading into the house. It was only his mother and himself left in the cabin now, only the two of them remaining on the St. Clair spread out of the four children the woman had gave birth to. Both sisters had been sold at a very young age and his brother roughly five years ago. Every one of them that had left had put a dent in his mother's heart and he knew his leaving would create a hole.

"Sampson, that white boy is gonna get you into some trouble if'n he keep on 'round here," Old Mary's voice came out low and slightly gravelly. "Some things are best kept to the big house."

The man didn't say anything. Old Mary had known for several years now about Jonathan and himself. She'd been appalled at first that he was being 'forced' to do such a sinful duty but he like to think that she had since come to realize that if the act was indeed sinful then Sampson himself was a sinner for he took part in it willingly.

"Specially with the master home. You know he don't take kindly to negroes in the family home," she continued on.

Sampson listened for awhile as she lectured him on the risks of seeing Jonathan with the master hom but, for the most part, blocked out her words. He felt like a fiend. He was planning on escaping while his mother lived and died a slave. What kind of son or even person was he.

"Jonathan," he interrupted her a few minutes later, "Came to tell me that I was to be sold."

Old Mary immediately sat up. She looked surprised for a moment before an unnatural calm settled over her as if it was something she had halfway expected to hear. "And that white boy is just gonna let you go?"

"No." Standing, he moved to sit beside her on her pallet on the floor. Leaning in, he told her, "I'm leaving tomorrow and I aint comin back. I wish… maybe I can try to take you with us. Dunno a reason why you'd be-"

"Child, I aint going no where," she sighed, shaking her head. "These old bones were born on this dirt and they'll be buried in them. 'Sides, even If'n I could leave, aint no work of no kind for no old woman by the likes of me."

Sampson scowled. "You caint want to stay here."

She ignored him. "You go on. Have a life. Be a free man. Least I'll live and die knowing one of my children left here of his own free will. I'll die happy knowing that." She nodded and moved to lay back down, obviously finished with the conversation.


"Go on now, boy, leave me in peace."


"Mr. Graves," Jonathan called out in his most haughty voice from where he sat atop his mare. "I require a man servant to assist me in my endeavors n town today."

"Yessir, I'll call you a nice negro to-"

"I require the slave I selected from the rows several weeks ago. Tall fellow, very lowly trimmed hair- Ah! There he is! Come here, slave. I have need of your services," he said, hating every second he was forced to treat Sampson as if he were a mere convenience.

"Beggin your pardon, young Mr. St. Clair," the headmaster said with a frown. "But your pa said this one is to be sold and aint supposed to go nowheres."

"My father had himself a change of heart," he snapped before turning his gaze to Sampson. "Fetch the wagon. Now."


Jonathan put on his snottiest expression. "Do you really want me to complain to my father, Mr. Graves? I don't have the patience today that will save you from a blistering."

The older man immediately colored. "No, sir. Take him on."

Inclining his head in thanks, he waited just before the house for his man to pull around in the loaded carriage. "Come along, slave. We have much to do and Duncan's retail store is expecting me." The last he said loudly enough to be overheard should someone question their wear abouts.

They made it down the long driveway and down the highway leading to the fork in the road. Taking a deep breath, he took the road leading north to Maryland and out of Confederate Virginia. Several miles ahead did they view confederate soldiers coming their way.

"Good day, sir," he greeted the passing like any polite Southern male would.

The Soldiers paused at the signal given by a fellow that was obviously their commander. The man eyes Sampson and then Jonathan. "You sure you want to head this way there, Mr…."

"St. Clair. Jonathan St. Clair of the Richmond St. Clairs," he said with a sniff. "And yes I am. My father has sent me to join with my cousin in Maryland and deliver his items."

"And you figuring to trust a nigger up that way?"

"The man's a simpleton. My family uses him for driving and plowing on account of him not understanding simple commands beyond that. Only thing he's good for and surely you don't expect me to see to all this nonsense," he said the last with a snort as he waved his hands towards the trunks in the back of the wagon.

The man shook his head at the dandy, clearly annoyed. "Pass on then. But mark my words, you had better keep an eye on that boy."

"Surely if a problem should occur I need only come and retrieve the confederate forced my father extends his hospitality to," he said with a snort as he gazed down his nose at the man. "Now good day, sir."

Heart pounding, he waved Sampson onward and met his pace with his mare.

Twice more they were stopped before meeting the state border but even touching in Maryland, a known border state of the Union that oddly enough still permitted slavery, Jonathan was not convinced of his love's safety. The pair traveled onward, day and night. The knowledge that his father was no doubt looking for him fueled them on like never before.

Weeks later the pair crossed the Ohio border and, finally, Sampson rested a hand on his love's shoulder as they walked down the dirt path. "This is far enough. I'm free here aint I?"

Jonathan nodded shakily. "It just… all seemed so easy. We got you out and there was no trouble…. I expected danger, to have to run. Honestly, Sampson, I feel as if I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely it cannot be that simple!"

Sampson halted the man and pulled him into a hug. "We were lucky. I was lucky. Not every slave has his own personal white guide. We made it, lovely. We made it."

Hugging his man tightly, tears filled Jonathan's eyes as their future shined brightly before them.


Acquiring land was easy enough for Jonathan, one of his trunks brought along had held a substantial amount of silver plate wear and a good amount of monies he'd acquired from his parents when he expressed his intention to replace his wardrobe. The house came next, a small three-room cabin that the two men built together in which they created a home. With crops to tend and livestock to see to, they became self sustained in no time .

Time did wear on, however, and as their love grew so too did the Unions forces and with it came a victory over the Confederate states to the South that would free an enslaved race, reunite lost families and make way for the start of new lives in a country that had fought long and hard for their rights.

As for this unlikely pair, Jonathan and Sampson lived together on their small homestead the remainder of their lives. They worked side by side, slept in one another's arms and loved each other completely. Jonathan not once regretting his decision to choose love over privileged lifestyle and Sampson reminding him everyday how good a decision he had made.