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A Night of Joy

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Jamie woke like he so often did — disorientated, but subconsciously alert. Ready to pounce, should there be the need. There was none tonight though. The first seconds of his wakefulness showed him a quiet, dark room. Still, he felt immediately urgent and nervous and alive all at once, like he hadn’t in a very long time. He spent the split of a second trying to chase the source of these confusing feelings, and then turned to see the light of the moon spill on the bed and on —

A Dhia. Oh Lord. Oh God, oh God, Claire.

She lay sprawled next to him, half on her back, her head turned away from him but her left hand reaching for him even in sleeping. Her curls were a dark, unruly mass against the white of the pillow, framing her peaceful face. She’d pushed the sheets down to her waist, revealing the marks his daughter had left some twenty years ago. And the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen, full and round and heavy, with dark nipples that stood out in the silvery light, begging to be kissed.

Jesus God, Sassenach.

Was it wrong to behold her so, without her even knowing? To selfishly drink down the gift of her beauty? Maybe, but he couldn’t bear to look away. Not when he had been starved of the sight for so long. He reached to ghost his trembling fingers over her hair, and had to choke back a sob.

Mo nighean donn.

His brown-haired lass. God, how it had hurt to have these words cross his mind. How many times had he prayed for her and his child? Countless times, surely. Yet in his mind, it was just one long, unending prayer: Lord, that she may be safe. She and the child. It was the only thing left to him, the only thing he could do for those he loved the most. And God, ever faithful, had listened.

Brianna, mo nighean ruaidh. Tha gaol agam ort!

He still felt the kiss Claire had given him. Your daughter sends you this. Your daughter… All this time, he had imagined a wee, perfect babe. But no, the Lord had seen fit to give him an axe-wielding, heartbreakingly beautiful, fierce young woman instead! He felt his face split into a grin at the thought of her, but at the same time, his heart clenched painfully in his chest. His daughter. His and Claire’s blood, alive and well — but forever out of reach.

Oh, lass. I’m so, so sorry I couldna be there for ye. I would have… I wish…

He pressed his eyes shut, but the tears fell anyway. Just now, he couldn’t seem to find the strength to wipe them away. What he would give —

No. Not tonight.

He couldn’t think of everything they had lost, he couldn’t. There might be anger later, aye, and regret. There might be fights and blame and curses, and he’d deserve every one of them, fearful coward that he was. But he wouldn’t think of that tonight. Not when their ordeal was finally over, not when their sacrifice had immortalised their love, not when his heart had finally returned to him. Not when the light of his life lay right next to him.

Sorcha.

But she was light, seemingly glowing from within, and he suddenly couldn’t bear a moment longer without touching her. They’d made love just a few hours ago, but it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

He swallowed and fought to calm his breathing, then lowered his mouth to her collarbone. He kissed her like he was afraid she’d somehow break and vanish right before his eyes, and maybe he really did fear such a thing.

Fear. He had completely forgotten what that felt like. All those years, he’d never been truly afraid for his sake alone. But now, he was, and very much so. For her, most of all, and for them both. But if it meant he could always hold her in his arms like he did just now, and protect her with everything in him, then he chose to be afraid for the rest of his life, and gladly.

His lips had slowly travelled up towards her neck, and he felt positively drunk on the softness of her skin and the feminine, earthy smell that he loved so much. His kissing and nuzzling must have tickled, for Claire sighed and shifted in her sleep. He sucked for a bit, higher up, and couldn’t resist gently taking her earlobe between his teeth, right over her bitty wee earhole. Claire moved again, and then suddenly froze. He figured he’d woken her, and pushed himself up to be greeted by her whisky eyes.

“Jamie…”

The most beatific smile spread on the face that was his heart, and her hand came up to tangle in his curls.

“Shhh, mo ghràidh. I’d say I didna mean to wake ye… But I did.”

At that, she reached her slender hands to cup his face, and her smile grew even wider.

“I missed you too.”

For just a second, he drank in the sight before him. His wife, returned to him. His to serve, his to worship, his to pleasure. He vowed to never forget a single thing about the way she looked right in this moment, and then there were only her sweet, soft lips.

He kissed her, slowly and tentatively at first, then harder and hungrier. Soon, she started making all those little sounds of her that drove him to distraction. They were as familiar as breathing to him, and he treasured each and every one of them.

He gently caught her bottom lip with his teeth and winked at her — well, tried to, judging by her grin — then made his way down her neck to her breasts. He hadn’t nearly given them the attention they deserved yet, he thought.

Claire’s lips parted in a silent gasp as he cupped and kneaded them, and he moaned at their full weight in his hands. His cock twitched against his belly (the greedy wee thing), but he forced himself to go slow, to explore and learn the ways of his wife once again.

Her areola mammae were pebbled and warm under his mouth, and he smiled as he remembered the day Claire had taught him their names. His smile grew even wider as Claire became restless under him, making small sounds of distress and tugging on his hair unmercifully. He’d purposefully avoided her nipples until now.

He stopped his ministrations altogether and looked up to get her attention again. She was breathing heavily, her cheeks were flushed and her gaze was slightly unfocused, but she watched him intently now, a lazy smile playing on her lips. God, what had he done to deserve such beauty?

Slowly, he lowered himself, all the while holding her gaze. When he finally closed his mouth on her hardened peak, a low whine tore from her throat and her back rose from the bed. He then licked and suckled her until her sweet moans made him as breathless as Claire seemed to be. The thought that he could simply have her doing this to him one of these days made him almost deliriously happy.

When he had his way with her breasts and Claire’s panting filled his ears, he let his lips travel further down her body. He cradled the width of her waist with his hands, then took time to kiss each of the silvery scars that spanned her belly. Claire sighed at that and cupped his cheek, watching him through hooded lids. When he pressed one last kiss to her palm and looked up once more, he thought he saw a single tear glinting in the moonlight.

“Dinna cry, mo chridhe. I canna bear it.”

He heard her shaky breath of a laugh, and, relieved, settled himself further down. He stroked her legs and gently pushed them apart, kissing and nuzzling the soft insides of her thighs. Claire gasped at that, as though she had just now realised what he had been up to. He couldn’t resist smirking up at her as he inched closer to his destination, kiss by kiss.

She smirked right back at him, the wee vixen, and shifted as if to make herself more comfortable, grinning contentedly.

“Oh, aye?”

“Aye,” she breathed, and tugged him down to where she needed him the most.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

The heat of her. He rested his forehead on the swell of her mound of Venus, and just breathed her in for a second. Then he looked up at her once more.

“I’ve missed my wife.”

Claire chuckled low in her throat, but it turned to a shriek as he finally bent to taste her. He let her fill his senses until he felt slightly dizzy with it all, then groaned out of pure need. Claire trembled, then bucked and writhed beneath him as he licked around the helpful wee nub that went by the name of clitoris. He gently held her down with his hands, then settled to the task he loved most in all the world: Getting Claire to make as much noise as possible.

At first, he feared he could be out of practice, but she soon quelled his doubts. He started with almost leisurely licks, only teasing her entrance and her slick folds. But not long, and her thighs twitched. He shifted his focus to a little bit higher up, and smiled as her hands settled firmly on his head. Her moans grew louder, and he increased his pace, taking more of her in his mouth. Claire gasped, her fingers painfully twisting in his hair, and he thought he’d found a rhythm that —

Christ, lass!

Her thighs clamped down on either side of his head, and her guttural groan send more blood rushing to his cock. Her whole body curled around him, and he licked and sucked her through her orgasm. Just when he thought he’d suffocate (happily, mind you), she went limp and boneless under him once more. He kissed her one last time, then lay down beside her, grinning so much his face hurt. Claire reached out for him, and he quickly leaned down to kiss her mouth.

“Was that to yer satisfaction, my lady?”

“You absolute bastard. I need you inside me, right now.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, her cheek, everywhere he could reach.

“Do ye now? Mphm. What about...”

He let the hand he’d strategically placed on her thigh wander, and cradled her head with his right arm. When he pushed one finger inside of her, her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Jamie — “

“Hush, now. I mean to watch ye fall apart again.”

He let a second finger follow, and she buried her face in his chest, panting and clinging to him. Once more, he established a rhythm, and revelled in her sounds and the thousand different ways her face seemed to contort with pleasure. Soon, she rolled her hips in time with his thrusts, and he held his thumb against her small bundle of nerves. Claire moaned, and he watched in fascination as she took her pleasure from him.

“Come for me, my own. Show me how beautiful ye are,” he rasped in her ear. In answer, she whimpered and moved against him forcefully, once, twice, and froze, her mouth parting in a silent scream.

“Aye, just like that.”

He smiled and thought his heart was going to burst with love as he cradled her to him, stroking her hair and letting her slowly come back around. What he didn’t expect was being roughly pushed to his back in a matter of seconds.

“Sassenach — “

“Oh, hush yourself.”

He laughed out loud at that, but the sound was brought up short as Claire sank down on him.

Ifrinn!

His eyes closed reflexively at the wave of blinding pleasure that rolled through his body, but he immediately forced them open again. The sight that presented himself was much too gorgeous to miss a single second.

Claire seemed speechless for the moment. Her eyes were closed, her hands idly stroked his chest, and her hair was a riotous mass all around her. Her breasts… But the best part was the expression on her face. It was one of such utter and complete enrapturement that he couldn’t help a grin, pride foolishly surging in his chest. He couldn’t decide where to look first.

But suddenly her eyes opened, and he knew. Claire just watched him for a moment, and after that gave him a smile that was filled with such tenderness, it made his heart ache in his chest. And then she started to move.

Oh, but she felt divine! Every rock of her hips stole a moan from his lips, he couldn’t help himself. Claire moaned and sighed in time with him, and smirked knowingly as their eyes met again. He was completely under her spell.

He was happy to let Claire set their pace for a bit, and indulged himself on her breasts instead. Circling and flicking her sensitive nipples brought him gasps and sharper snaps of her hips, so he teased her relentlessly. Claire in turn clawed at his chest, and he knew he’d carry the marks for days.

Soon, she panted above him, and her movements became more erratic, more desperate. Seeing her like this, nearing the end, but tiring as well, he quickly pushed himself up. Claire stilled for a moment, and he took his chance, slid his fingers in her hair and kissed her with everything in him. When they broke apart, neither could seem to find enough air to fill their lungs.

“Jamie, I…”

“Let me, a nighean?”

With this, he brought his hands to her waist and her sinfully round arse, and pulled her firmly against him.

“Oh God, yes!”

Everything else fell away. There was only Claire, her curls clouding his vision, her skin hot as coals on his skin, her whisky eyes making him drunk, her noises maddening him, her hands seemingly everywhere on his body all at once, her heart thumping against his chest. There was only his wife, and he took her, again and again, driven by his need to serve her.

He pushed his hips up hard and felt Claire moving against him, with him, driven by the same need. She locked her arms around his neck and moved faster, and he gasped as he felt her walls flutter and clench around him. Dimly, he was aware of her whispered orders (More. Deeper. Jamie, yes!), and then there was only her cry, his own groan, and pure sensation.

The moment he opened his eyes again, he found himself locked in Claire’s gaze, their bodies still tightly entwined. He smiled shyly at her, exhaled shakily, and tried to lower them carefully down to the bed again. The muscles in his arms had other ideas, though, and so they fell rather ungracefully, their toppling leaving them in a puddle of limbs and giggles.

“Come here, my Sassenach.”

Still grinning like the loons they were, they kissed each other once more, and then Claire settled her head in the crook of his shoulder, sighing happily. She looked up at him and cupped his cheek, and he gently cradled her head with his hand.

They spoke no words, because they needed none.