Dr Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp had been the prison doctor at HMP Ardsmuir for precisely two weeks when she first met him. She had already seen him moving around the prison; formidably huge, he was hard to miss standing nearly a head above most prisoners with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen and flaming red hair that caught like fire when the sun streamed through the dirty windows of the prison. A Scottish prisoner, she had heard that he was generally liked by his fellow inmates and respected by the prison guards who saw him as something of a leader amongst the prisoners. Although she had seen him, he had never so much as looked up to catch her eye which was perhaps no bad thing as she was sure her glass face would, as usual, have given her away. He was, quietly frankly, beautiful.
James Alexander Malcolm McKenzie Fraser had already been at HMP Ardsmuir for two years when the new doctor arrived. He was only six months away from parole for his five year prison sentence. He had kept his head down and mouth shut as much as possible to get through the time. Despite his taciturn outward appearance, he had made friendships amongst the prisoners who seemed to view him as a leader of sorts and he had developed a particular friendship with the Governor, John Grey. A vaguely aristocratic man, Grey quickly realised upon his appointment as Governor to the prison that a working friendship with Fraser could prove useful in maintaining peace amongst the prisoners. What started out as information sharing soon turned to a weekly chess game and eventually a genuine friendship. Fraser would be sad to leave his weekly company of Grey but was otherwise keen to be free from the shackles of imprisonment. Until she arrived.
The prisoners were all talking of the new prison doctor. A female within an all-male prison was bound to get at least some of the prisoners riled up, but Fraser paid little attention. All hope of that went out the window when he first laid eyes on her. She was petite but carried herself with the straight-backed assurance of a woman who was not to be messed with. Her wild brown curls sprung out from her head in every direction, defying gravity as they bounced with every step she took. Her deliciously curvy hips swung out to each side as she walked down the prison halls to her surgery. Fraser was stepping out of his weekly chess game in Grey’s office when he saw her walking away and could hardly pull his eyes from the roundest arse he had ever seen. Two years celibate in prison had done nothing to quell his libido and his cock instantly reacted to the sight of her, standing to attention while his mind involuntarily conjured images of her hips in his hands while he pounded into her. Christ, it was lucky she wasn’t walking toward him with the tent his cock was making of his trousers. Hurrying back to his cell, Fraser hoped he wouldn’t have need of the doctor over the next 6 months. He wasn’t sure he would be able to restrain himself in close proximity to her.
Claire had spent two weeks so far at the prison, seeing prisoners infrequently and for only minor needs such as tooth ache or mildly infected cuts. On the last day of her second week, James Fraser ducked his head under the door frame as he stepped into her small surgery, one hand clutching the other arm, blood seeping through his sleeve and a grimace of pain on his face. He avoided her eye, looking down and muttering a grunt in greeting.
“Hello," Claire said brightly, "you must be James Fraser. Governor Grey phoned ahead to say you were coming on rather an emergency. I’m Dr Claire Beauchamp. Call me Claire.” “You can call me Jamie”, he replied, rather gruffly. Still not looking up at her, he didn’t dare for fear that his body would betray what his mind was already thinking. He gritted his teeth and attempted to hold his breath to try to keep his emotions in check.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with here” she said, putting her small, firm hands on his arm and standing so close he could smell her hair, fresh and floral, wafting below his face as he kept his head down and his back hunched over. She must have mistaken his obvious discomfort for pain as she said, “It’s ok, I can treat you now you’re here, I’ll try to get you out of pain as soon as I can.” He would have suffered pain far worse and for longer than this if it meant he could stay near her, breathing her in and watching her fingers as they moved over his arm and shoulder, pressing and probing into his skin. Just the touch of her was sending signals to his cock he would rather not reveal to her.
“I think your shoulder is dislocated and I need to see where the bleeding is coming from – I’m going to cut your shirt off you.”, she said as she reached for surgical scissors on her tray nearby. As sharp as a dagger, he was amazed the prison allowed her to have them within reach of the prisoners who came in to be treated by her. His wame instantly clenched as he imagined all manner of situations in which she could be put at risk with some of the other prisoners at Ardsmuir, those who did not have so much honour as he did, those who served violence and anger deep in their soul.
He flinched as she began cutting his shirt up the sleeve, hoping she stopped there and didn’t remove the cloth from his back, knowing what she would see if she did. She removed his hand from where it was clutching his injured arm and he could feel the cool, smooth skin of her palms. As she lifted his arm and began to manipulate it from the shoulder joint, he grunted and scrunched his eyes shut, still unwilling to say much.
“Oh I’m sorry!” she said, wincing in sympathy for him, “Let me give you something for the pain” and she reached for a needle prepped on her tray. As she moved to inject him with it, his eyes flashed open and he grabbed her wrist, “No, no opiates.” As he looked up into her face, he felt the whole world falling away before him. Her eyes were like pools of whisky, amber and golden, swimming before him, making him feel like he was drowning and happy to do so. But as he saw her fear in them, he realised his mistake and instantly regretted it. He dropped her wrist and his head at the same time, trying to explain. “I’m sorry lass, I didna mean to make you jump. I had a bad reaction to opiates in the past, you ken – I canna go back to my cell with my mind befuddled by them. I’ll suffer the pain. I have before.”
Claire was almost breathless, her heart thumping madly in her chest and she wasn’t at all sure it was just because he had made her jump by grabbing her wrist. Just standing so close to him was like being near a furnace, the heat radiating from his skin. As she had cut up his sleeve, her fingers grazing him, she could see the russet hairs on his golden skin standing up into gooseflesh but still his skin burned. Just shy of a fever, she could only imagine what it would feel like to lie next to his heat. But as he had looked up at her, his eyes flashing in fear, she knew she was done for. She looked deep into them, his eyes every shade of blue she had ever seen in the ocean, from the cool grey of the British Isles to the bright turquoise of the Caribbean seas, and felt like she was looking into his soul. There was no anger in them, she felt no fear, just a spark of recognition for a connection between their two souls.
She knew she had to get control of herself and tend to her patient. She shook her head slightly to get her mind back to being professional. “Ok, I can manipulate it back into the joint but it will hurt. Try not to resist me as I do it, it can cause further damage.” And with that she was climbing up onto the table, kneeling next to him, leaning herself over his body as she took up the weight of his huge arm.
Now that she was so close to him, Jamie really could hardly control himself. He wanted to grab her hips, sit her astride his lap, feel her arse against his thighs. As she began to wrench his arm around to relocate his shoulder, the sharp pain caused a welcome distraction to the building throbbing in his balls and with a loud “pop”, his shoulder was back in its joint. He let out a breath he had not realised he was holding and her curls fluttered around his face, tickling his cheeks. He opened his eyes from where he had been squinting them shut and could see the round curve of the top of her breasts peeking out of her shirt, so close he could have simply dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her ivory skin.
Claire climbed down from the table and looked up at him, “Now let’s have a look at that gash. I don’t suppose you want to tell me how all this happened, do you?” One look at her face told him that his usual Scottish reply of “Hrmph” was not going to satisfy her. “It must have been a pretty big fall”, she prompted. “Weel I’m a big man”, he replied. “That you are”, he heard her mutter under her breath. He couldn’t help a smile begin to twitch the corners of his mouth and he wondered if she felt anything close to what he was starting to feel. He could feel the tips of his ears redden as saw her eyes travel down his body and settle on his crotch. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand on his uninjured arm and sent up a silent prayer that his cock would behave itself, just this once.
She swiftly turned to her tray and got some antiseptic wipes and an already threaded needle. “Will you at least let me give you some local anaesthetic before I stitch you up? It’s only topical, it shouldn’t affect you the same as an opiate to your bloodstream would.” “Aye, I s’pose”, he replied. A few pricks with a syringe later and she was stitching his cut, gently pinching his skin with one hand while the other deftly wove small stitches.
As her focus narrowed to her task at hand, Claire could control her breath and lower her racing pulse. She was sure he had caught her looking down at his crotch and almost blushed again at the thought. With hands as huge as his, he really must be a big man. As absurd an idea as this was, it had been two years since she had broken up with Frank Randall and she had been on no more than a few dull dinner dates since. Nothing that ended in carnal knowledge. The proximity of this beautiful redhead was causing things to awaken in her that had not stirred in some time.
She had just tied off the stitches and cut the thread when an ear-piercing alarm and crashing footsteps could be heard outside. Claire involuntarily jumped and at such close range to her patient, she crashed into Jamie's chest as he grasped her by the shoulders. A prison guard stuck his head in the open door and gave a cursory look around before shouting, “Stay put”, and slamming the door closed behind him. Jamie’s hands were still holding the tops of her shoulders and she was tucked into his chest, standing between his legs as they hung over the table, so long that his feet remained on the ground. She knew she should step back but her heart was still thumping, whether from the alarm still ringing in the room or the electricity seeming to pulse through Jamie’s fingers down her arms and into her very core, she could not be sure.
“It’s no’ likely to be anything serious. Probably just a minor disturbance on one of the wings. It’ll all be sorted soon. Dinna fash, lass.” Claire looked up into his impossibly blue eyes and could not recall feeling so safe in all her life. It was the most disconcerting feeling, of both spiralling downward like she was falling and being completely grounded to the earth, both at the same time. Her eyes dropped to his lips, full and parting as his tongue darted out to wet them. A tiny whimper escaped her throat and her fingers trembled against his chest. His hands gave a slight stroke to her arms and she seemed to be moving towards him, as he was to her. She could feel his thighs begin to tighten on either side of her waist and her breath caught in her throat.
Then, almost as if he had heard it before she had herself, Jamie’s hands dropped and he gave her a slight push away as the door crashed open and a guard stepped in. “All prisoners to be returned to their cells for a sweep of the prison. Are you done, Doctor?” Claire struggled to regain her composure but quickly replied, “Give me one minute to put a bandage on please, then I’ll be done with Mr Fraser.” “Very well”, replied the guard, and stepped outside, leaving her alone with Jamie for a few more moments. She didn’t say anything but applied a bandage as gently as she could. “You’ll need to come back and see me in two days to check how it’s healing.” She thought she saw his eyes lighten at her instruction and a small smile twitch the corners of his mouth again. “Aye”, he replied, and stood up off the table, wincing only slightly at the pain of his shoulder. As he walked towards the door, he turned back and said, very quietly, “You need not be scairt lass, no’ while you’re with me.” As he looked up at her through long, thick eyelashes, she knew this to be true and wondered how she would get through the next two days until she could see him again.
As Jamie returned to his cell and the inspections took place, he didn’t say a word. All he could think of was the electricity that had passed between him and Claire, almost burning his fingertips as he held her arms. She had looked into his eyes with a longing hunger that he had all but forgotten during his incarceration. It would be a long two days until he could see her again.
There is no privacy in a prison other than the cover of darkness. Jamie had long since got used to hearing the quiet grunts and soft moans of his fellow inmates after the lights had gone out, usually pleasuring only themselves, a few sometimes taking pleasure from another. Jamie had infrequently done it himself but tonight he was desperate with need, his desire barely waiting for the lights to be turned out and the soft snores of his cell mate to begin. His cock was hard, demanding to be sated. He grabbed it in his hand and began furiously stroking it, picturing Claire’s dark brown curls spilling over his bare chest. He closed his eyes and saw her whisky eyes, pupils blown wide with passion, as his stroking became an erratic yanking. His breath quickened and he turned on his side, trying to stifle his building moans in his pillow. He bit the cloth as he finished, quickly and hotly spurting over his sheets, wishing he could be filling Claire instead. As his breathing recovered, he knew sleep would evade him tonight even as he hoped he would dream of her.