“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie!” Claire sat up and hit her husband across the shoulder. “Sperms?!”
Jamie’s laugh boomed out across the house.
“You incorrigible bloody Scot!” She hit him again, dissolving into her own fit of laughter. “I can’t believe you spent a whole evening telling me a story about your fucking sperms!”
“Can ye blame me, Sassenach? Ever since ye showed me those fearsome wee beasts, all I can think on is how crowded it gets in there when I havena had ye for some time. I think I might kill the bloody pope himself if he was standing in my way.
“Oh, Jamie. I do love you.” She kissed him sweetly between fits of giggles. “But you know, that’s not exactly how it works. Half your sperms actually hold the genetic material of a female.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”
“Weel, if I was a woman, I’d still verra much want to bed ye just the same. The story wouldna change all that much. Perhaps a bit less violent.”
Claire’s hand dropped down to find his cock under his kilt. “And how are all your busy little sailors? Do you think they’re ready for another Rising?”
They both looked down and watched the Rising start to take place. “Oh aye, Sassenach. But first, take off yer shift and spread yer legs. We should give the puir bastards a chance to find a map and secure provisions, aye?”
“That sounds marvelous.” She moaned as he kissed down her body. “But when it’s time, don’t make it easy on them.”
“Aye. We’ll give ’em a hurricane to deal wi’ before we launch them out to sea.”