North Carolina, 1767
Jamie stilled abruptly and pressed himself deep inside me, completely lost in his pleasure. With one of my hands I tightly gripped his curls, with the other I cradled his back, urging him ever deeper. His forehead rested against mine and I gasped, still basking in the last waves of my own orgasm.
I opened my eyes just in time to witness the dreamy, unguarded smile I loved so much, and then Jamie’s eyes found mine.
“Dhia, Sassenach. The way you feel… I never want to leave ye.”
His husky words sent a familiar shiver down my spine. I exhaled, slowly, relishing the way he felt. I wasn’t particularly keen on giving up his comforting weight and warmth either, but I also rarely missed a chance to tease him.
“Well, I want to finish my whisky, sooo…”
He only snorted and leaned in for one of those kisses that had me sighing into his mouth. Then he touched the tip of his nose feather-light against my own, and gently smoothed the riotous curls that framed my face.
“Aye, well. Canna let my wife go wanting now, can I?”
Now it was my turn to snort. As if he’d ever do that. He graced me with his adorable try at winking, then swiftly disentangled our legs and reached to procure both our tumblers from the bed stand.
The clink of glass against glass was soft, the glinting blue of his eyes even softer.
“Slàinte math, mo nighean donn.”
Half an hour earlier, I had all but chased Jamie up the stairs, laughing at the decidedly futile protests he hissed over his shoulder. He was carrying two crystal tumblers and a flask of Jocasta’s best whisky in his hands, but all that I had eyes for were his thighs in front of me. And, well, his arse. What a remarkable piece of clothing the kilt was.
Once in our room, he had barely managed one sip before I had rid him of said piece of clothing.
Now, we’d moved to the small balcony our quarters were fitted with. We were still naked, save for the plaid that Jamie had wrapped us in, with no little pride. The feel of it was as familiar as breathing, and yet exhilaratingly novel. I told Jamie as much, and he hugged me tighter to his front, softly kissing my neck.
“I’m glad I’ve got the plaid back, even if it’s no mine. It minds me…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but I knew, of course. It reminded him of everything he’d had, and everything he’d lost.
A sigh left me involuntarily, a quiet, small sound in the stillness surrounding us. I leaned back against his chest, raising my eyes to the light of the stars overhead. Tonight, they seemed like a thousand beacons of hope.
And if the heavens listened to my prayers, Jamie Fraser would have everything again.
“Ah, well. It minds me of when I first wrapped ye in my plaid, is all.”
I chuckled, consciously turning away from all thoughts of melancholy and anchoring myself in his presence.
“I distinctly remember that we were wearing clothes back then.”
“That flimsy shift of yers? I wouldna call that clothes now, exactly.”
I swatted his arse, but the plaid prevented me from landing a satisfying strike.
“Pigheaded Scot. We had that conversation already. A hundred times, give and take. And I bloody well know you loved it!”
I felt the rumble of his laugh against my back, and answered it with a wide smile of my own, thinking of a young, bedraggled, blood-stained highlander on a misty night some 25 years ago.
“Aye, ye’re right at that, Sassenach.”
For a moment, I thought he’d wanted to say more, but then he froze quite suddenly behind me, gasping softly. I meant to turn in his arms, but his whisper stopped me.
“D’ye remember when we truly wore no clothes, though?”
Now I did turn, intrigued, bringing our bodies together fully.
“I believe there have been a number of occasions when we wore no clothes.”
“I’m thinking of the… occasion by the river. On the rock?”
Someone else might have missed the tremble and strain in his voice, or the careful way he schooled his features.
“On the… Oh. I do, my lad. What of it?”
I thought there was a blush creeping up his neck, but there was not enough light to tell for sure.
“It’s just… I canna stop thinking about it. About what ye did before ye saw me, that is.”
Ah. Now there might have been a blush creeping up my neck, too. I saw Jamie swallow, and then he rushed to fill my silence.
“Do ye… Did ye… I mean, d’ye do that often? Because I… I never even thought of it, and… God! Ye looked like a goddess, mo gràidh. So bonnie, bathed in moonlight and with your legs spread wide like that. And yer hand, right there… I…”
He trailed off, a far-away look in his eyes.
“I just… I need to know,” he finished eventually, looking sheepishly into my eyes.
I averted my eyes from his piercing gaze, grinning, and laid my hand on his bare chest. The wild flutter of his heart echoed my own pulse, and I breathed deeply, once.
“Well… There’s usually no need to do it when I’m around you.”
A chuckle, a lopsided smile. And, damn him, heartbreakingly honest relief in his eyes.
“In Boston, with Frank - I already told you about that.”
He nodded and cast his eyes downward, holding me closer to him. Neither of us wanted to dwell on time spent apart.
“And the rest of it is pretty boring, I suppose. I began to explore my body at some age. Just the same as you did when you were young, probably.”
He opened his mouth as if to inquire further, but suddenly there were more memories. Half-forgotten, buried, but nonetheless making my heart skip a beat. Memories I wanted him to know. Before I lost my nerve, I laid a finger on his lips and spoke.
“I did it fairly often when we were in Leoch, too. And I thought of you while doing it.”
“Ye did WHAT?!”
I had to bite my lip to hide my grin. He was a sight to behold, the way his mouth hung open and his eyes were blown wide in shock.
“I touched myself, Jamie. Just like I did on the rock. I touched myself - and I thought of you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut as my words sank in, and clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.
“Oh Claire, Christ! Jesus God, oh God…”
One rueful chuckle, several moments of silence, and then his eyes bore into mine, mere inches away.
“Sassenach… I lay there every night, yearning for you, sleepless and half-mad with the wanting... I wanted so much to… But I said to myself: ‘No, Jamie. It’s not right. She’s still grieving for her puir husband. She’s not yers to think about.’ And ye mean to tell me that all the while you… Oh, Christ!”
It was adorable, really. By now, he was beet-red and shaking his head in disbelief. Between several astonishingly creative Gaelic profanities, he registered my shameless smirk. He stopped his swearing to take me in, and I was relieved to see an answering smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
“Ifrinn, Sassenach. I should’ve known, eh? My wee vixen.“
His warm, calloused hands encased my face, and I gladly leant into his kiss.
“Hmmm. Vixen I am. But you don’t mean to tell me you never gave in to temptation yourself, do you?”
That had a sobering effect. He blinked and let a few seconds pass, then held me by my waist again.
“Well, no. Canna say I’m proud, but I canna lie to ye either.”
I pictured it in an instant. His kilt rucked up in some unoccupied stall one morning, his head thudding against the wall, trying in vain to suppress his groans. Or in his bed at night, alone with his thoughts - struggling - but giving in nonetheless. And always, always my name on his lips.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. I needed to get him in that bed again and then I would-
“Sassenach? Claire? Will ye let me ask ye a favour?”
I thought I knew what that favour would be. I nodded, breathless.
“Let me watch again?”
His eyes were as dark as the night around us. I let the plaid fall around my feet and gave him an unmistakable look, then slowly turned and strode to our bed.
His wife lay next to him, stark naked for his eyes and his eyes only. Her beautiful body was strung tight, and she writhed and sighed and gasped with the pleasure she was giving herself. If he’d die right now, he’d die a happy man.
A few minutes ago, he’d followed her back into their room. Dumbstruck he’d watched as she settled contentedly on their bed, fanned her riotous curls out on the pillow beneath her - and spread her legs. When she’d grinned and beckoned him with her fingers, he was helpless to follow her siren’s song.
He swallowed, and gripped the sheets beneath him with his fists. He didn’t trust himself to not touch her any longer (or his hard and aching cock, for that matter).
She’d thrown her head back, and her eyes were closed. She was worrying her lips with her teeth, and her face was contorted in the way that sent more blood rushing to his groin. He desperately needed to take in all of her, to not miss a single second of the sight in front of him.
Her left hand cupped one heavy breast, massaging it, gently teasing and pinching the hardened peak there. He wanted to kiss and suck it, to bite it until she groaned and pulled his hair hard enough to make him hiss.
Her right hand…
She was hiding nothing from him. He could see all of her, the dark, slightly frizzy hair that he loved to nuzzle so much, her delicate, rosy folds, and the wee nub that had her whimpering in his ear if he touched and licked it just so.
Not tonight. She parted her sensitive skin, then slid her hand lower, and back up again. She was dripping wet, he could see it, he could hear it, he could smell it. He must have made a sound, for suddenly her eyes were on him, heavy-lidded, golden, burning.
A lioness, eyeing her prey.
How could he not? He watched as two of her slender fingers vanished inside her, watched as she found that spot with a breathy moan, watched as her back rose from the bed.
His groan sounded desperate to his own ears.
He knew exactly how she would feel. Silky and smooth against his fingers. Wet, warm, pulsing, and so unbelievably tight around his cock. God, he needed to have his hands on her.
To hear his name in that voice. To know that she was thinking about him, that she’d called out to him like that before, even from the very first! To witness her like this, unguarded, primal, completely unravelled in front of him.
His eyes must have fluttered closed involuntarily. He opened them again to find her observing him from curious eyes, her right hand now raised to his lips. It was glistening.
He swallowed and gingerly took it into his own. He kissed the back of it eagerly, then touched his lips to his ring. Searching and finding Claire’s eyes again, he proceeded to lick her fingers clean, relishing the taste that was so quintessentially her. He sucked a bit, like she would have done, and couldn’t help smirking at her small intake of breath.
“Give it back, I need it.”
The command came a bit shaky, but he followed it nonetheless, pressing one last kiss to the back of her hand.
She surprised him by tapping the tip of his nose with her finger, making him smile. Then she brought her hand lower, and lower, and lower still. Claire sighed, and wasted no time continuing the dance from before. Only she was rougher now, faster.
If she wasn’t done teasing him, she was clearly done teasing herself.
Jamie bit his lips, and still tasted her. His cock felt impossibly hard, he didn’t know where to look first, and it took all his strength to keep his hands from wandering. He whimpered.
Soon, her wee noises took on that desperate note that he knew so well, her legs were moving on their own accord, her fingers all but flew over her sensitive flesh - and then, that glorious moment. That groan, and the way her lips parted in a silent scream. Her body went rigid, then boneless, and he felt the dizzying relief of her release as sure as if she’d stroked him instead.
Grinning widely, he leaned down to kiss her quickly before she opened her eyes again. Claire moaned into his mouth, and he let his hands trail down her body, finally, finally touching her himself.
Just when he started to gently thrust himself into her, though, Claire abruptly broke their kiss and pushed her hand up to his chest. She laughed at him, crinkling her eyes.
“Nu uh. It’s your turn.”
„I… I canna do that in front of ye, Claire!”
Jamie had lain down next to me again, but out of shock rather than obedience, it seemed.
“Fair’s fair, don’t you remember?”
“Aye, I do-”
“And what about marriage turning sin into sacrament?”
“Well, aye, but… Christ, Sassenach, dinna use my own words against me!”
He looked up indignantly, but the corners of his mouth trembled in amusement. I only snorted, raising one eyebrow at him. He let a moment pass, then his head fell back against the pillows. He exhaled, slowly.
“Fine! I yield, woman.”
He held my gaze as he smirked, and blinked in that endearing way of his. Then he swallowed, closed his eyes, and slowly lowered his hands.
At the first touch, he gasped. His right hand cupped and weighed his balls. His left started to stroke idly up and down his straining length - a bit rougher than I would have, I noted.
His movements were still a bit stiff, though, and I knew he was trying to hold back his groans. I watched him for a bit and decided that that wouldn’t do.
“What are you thinking about, Jamie?”
Something between a laugh and a quiet sob left him, and his fist sped up.
“You, mo ghràidh!”
I’d never tire of hearing these words, nor of hearing his voice like that. I let my eyes wander over his beautifully contorted face, over his heaving chest, and the flexing of his muscles as he touched himself.
To just sit back and watch suddenly sounded a lot less alluring than a few minutes ago.
“I think of you… On yer knees in front of me.”
He had his hands nowhere near my body, but he still managed to send shivers through it. He moaned quietly, and his fingers moved faster over his flesh.
“Ah… Your face when ye finish, Sassenach.”
He whimpered and bit his lips, and I tried my hardest to keep silent.
“Dhia, yer hands and mouth on me.”
He was temptation himself, writhing and moaning in front of me. God, how had he managed to watch me for so long?
“And yer arse, when I take ye from behind…”
By now, he had me wet and throbbing again. From his sounds and the faltering rhythm of his hand, I knew he was working himself to a swift release.
I thought not.
“What about this?”
I swung my legs over his torso, dislodged his hands, and sank down on him to the root.
His eyes snapped open and he gasped in shock. Then, a slow smile spread on his face as I began to move gently.
“That… That too.”
He smirked and groaned quietly, his mouth falling open in bliss.
“God, Claire. If I had known back at Leoch that that would wait for me…”
His eyes wandered over my body with reverence, almost unbelievingly, and his strong arms encircled my hips. I rocked back and forth, making him hiss, then cupped his cheek with one hand.
“I think I’ve always wanted this… I’ve always wanted you.”
His hands tightened on me, and he swallowed, holding my gaze in his deep blue.
“Ye’ve always been mine. And I’ve always been yours. Show me, mo nighean donn?”
And later, when we’d entangled limbs beneath the sheets, tasted whisky drops on lips, and fell asleep in each other’s arms, our hearts beat as one.
Like they’d done from the first, and like they’d do until the very end.