#Author: desperationandgin

[desperationandgin]

First Night (Jamie x Claire)

Rating: Explicit

Author: desperationandgin

Also read on: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire’s first night in the Big House.

Author’s Note:

This fic is for them!!!! Also, this went to no betas at all and I wrote it in about a half hour. Go easy on me!

First Night

When she comes, it’s with a strangled gasp of his name, her hands clutching twin fistfuls of bedsheets.

He does this to watch her, to see the way her skin turns pink, starting at her stomach and blooming outward. As his fingers curve inside of her to help Claire chase her pleasure, he studies the furrowed crease of her brow, the concentration as she focuses on pressing down into his hand, to find her second climax.

He imagines her beautiful agony, can feel it in the way she jerks back sharply, then urgently grasps at his shoulders to keep him exactly where he is. Her lips part and his eyes darken at the memory of them wrapped around his cock earlier in the night’s activities. She gasps, makes a sound that attempts to be his name, then jerks as she shatters. In the throes of it, Claire’s hair sticks to the side of her neck, riotous curls finally tamed by lust. The sweet pink of her skin turns a fevered red, and now her hips scramble away from his touch.

Jamie allows it, but only to lithely slide down and plant himself between her spread thighs. Her hips are wider than they were a year ago, and her arse fits perfectly into his palms as he slides her forward to meet his mouth. He indulges with his hands at her backside, caressing and squeezing even as his tongue slides into her, then out again.

Done watching, he listens to her piercing cry, feels her body curve forward so that she’s nearly sitting up, fingers gripping his hair. It hurts, but he can’t imagine any sweeter torture. Now, it’s his turn to taste, doing so as happily as a large cat with cream. Lazily, his tongue makes looping figure eights against nerves so swollen that he takes advantage by sucking lightly. The loud cry that pulls from her goes straight to his cock and he groans, angling a hand under his chin to coax one more climax from her, one last surrender to pleasure.

She’s so slick that his fingers glide easily, though he pauses a moment to raise his head and press kisses to the milky skin of her inner thigh.

It’s the break that allows her time to gather one single thought, gasping it out loud.

“I want you inside of me.” When she says it her eyes open, and with one look, Jamie knows he can deny her absolutely nothing.

He gives her one more sweeping lick of his tongue before raising himself over her body, watching her face, waiting for that nearly imperceptible nod before guiding himself home. Now, he loves her. There’s been no lack of it for all they’ve done this evening, but now he bows his body over hers, very nearly cradling her. As his hips move, his mouth drops to the curve of her neck where he whispers in gasping, stuttering breaths.

“Mo chridhe.”

His nose nuzzles against her pulse.

“Tha gaol agam ort.” He loves her now, two-hundred years from now, always. As her body tenses under his, he surrenders himself to the pleasure pulling at his belly, and when the first breath of a scream leaves her lungs, he groans her name loudly, spilling into her. He’s aware of nothing save for the woman beneath him, the way his heart stutters in his chest to match the slamming of her own.

When the pleasure begins to ebb, he lays beside her, folding his wife into his arms as she shudders. Opening his eyes, Jamie looks down at her face, murmuring quietly.

“Do ye like the house then?”

For a moment there’s no response, but a slow smile spreads on her lips before raising herself up to meet his gaze. Cradling his cheek in one hand, her smile widens to show teeth, eyes wrinkling in the corners.

“You gave me glass windows.”

His smile matches hers, though both disappear as he captures hers for a kiss.

Their first night in their new home.

[walkinginland]

Tag game

ahhhhhhh this is ages late but I just saw it 😬😬 thanks for the tag, @badbitchbeauchamp ilu ❤❤❤

Nicknames: Jules, but that’s just really my family and a few friends who have known me since I was a tot.

Zodiac: Aquarius

Height: 5'4″

Last Googled: people who share my birthday and when i say i was DISAPPOINTED. smdh.

Song Stuck in Head: hmmmmmmm nothing atm I don’t think. I’m listening to the Avett Brothers tho, so “Ain’t No Man” will probably be stuck in my head shortly lol.

Number of Followers: 672 and I *think* those are mostly real people lol. I’m pretty thorough with the blocking of porn bots and kiraguidos.

Amount of Sleep: em. It’s inconsistent. Now that I’m underemployed it’s like 8 ish hours most nights, which is a damn miracle.

Lucky Number: I don’t really have one...

Favorite Song: This changes dailyyyyyyyyy. Hozier’s “In A Week” is a constant. Been listening to a rewrite of a hymn by Audrey Assad (Your Peace Will Make Us One) on repeat here lately.

Favorite Instrument: emmmm to play? handbells. To listen to? guitar, piano, cello maybe?

Dream Job: a librarian. maybe one day when I can pull off grad school.......

Favorite Author: WHEW that’s hard. Jirt? cs lewis? SJM? TOO MANY.

Favorite Animal Noise: mourning doves!

Random: my ears stick out quite a lot, and while I know this is mostly a hereditary thing (my great grandfather’s ears are the sammmme), my mom insists it’s because I was a c-section baby. to quote: “your head didn’t get squeezed through a straw.”

How It Started: ........ i’m not sure what i’m supposed to put for these last two tbh 😬

How's It Going:

I’mma tag @pulveremcomedesligulas and @desperationandgin so hereeeeeee guys have fun!

[magnoliasinbloom]

for the ask me anything meme: 2, 44, 62!

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

I would love to meet Angeles Mastretta, a Mexican author who has really influenced my life and my writing. If you can find an English / any translation of her novel “Mal de Amores” do so immediately. Richard Madden is also high up on that list, because ofc.

44: What was the last film you saw?

I re-watched “About Time” on Netflix with the husband. It made me cry again.

62: What’s your favourite animal?

I am partial to sloths. I may have been a sloth in a previous life.

Thanks for the asks @desperationandgin! 

[metaborderlines]

Miss Manners Told Me to Write This

Newbie at Tumblr, I’m sending the same letter to my top-whatever-number of writers of Outlander fan fics, prompted by a lovely nod from a writer whose books are more available in hardcover, in ye olde conventional bookstores. Outlander blogs and fan fic make the best meals during social starvation time, thrashing through U.S. election angst, pandemic staying-in-place. Bye, Miss Manners, hoping to learn how to do this group-messaging in Tumblr’s way soon

Thanks writers,

Metaborderlines, actual message follows

Yesterday in The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/nov/13/helen-macdonald-am-i-refusing-to-read-bleak-house-out-of-sheer-contrariness-possibly    Helen MacDonald, the author of H Is for Hawk said, “The last writing that made me cry wasn’t technically a book at all, but a work of fan-fiction, a genre that includes some of the most moving works I’ve read over the last few years. It infuriates me how often people sneer at it.” I want to send this affirmation to missclairebell who wrote the breathless banter of “One Summer”; and to CrossingInStyle who wrote the Tarzan story with the inexplicable title “You’ll Be in Mo Chridhe,”[why Crossing, why? nevermind, Jamie-raised-by-gorillas is irresistible]; and to BetweenScenesWriter who came up with the counterintuitive marvel of Peace Corps-volunteers Jamie and Claire, “Jimjeran” in Melanesia; and to PrairieFarmGirl, currently writing an R-Rated “Little House on the Prairie” called “The Proposal”; and to bonnie_wee_swordsman whose “Flood My Mornings” pulled many provocative threads out of the contrast between 1746 and 1945, showing that Jamie is wise enough to know that hot showers are not everything; and to wickedgoodbooks  who gave Willie to Jamie and Claire in ”Downhill” on “the Puffin trip” to the outer isles beyond Inverness, leaving behind the most genuine parent-child scenes ever, without neglecting the parents in their private time. Then there’s the foodie universe with endearingly sassy-yet-vulnerable Jamie and Claire in “Market Price” by desperationandgin, and the Charleston SC socialites who behave as though Scarlett O’Hara may waltz into their yacht-club-party in “Lovers in a Dangerous Time” by SassenachThroughTime. Scratch Scarlett, it would be mewling Melanie Wilkes who’d waltz onto the social scene that ThroughTime nails with a silver hammer in “LIADT.” Melanie would make friends with meddlesome Aunt Jocasta—enough! Also, where have you gone, hardblazesong, with “Noir Nocturne”?

 Outlander, fan fic, love these writers and so does a bestselling author according to The Guardian

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hello! Can you give some fics that have been made about 5x12? I’m sure there’s some really good ones that have been written.. thanks!

Hi Anon,

You are absolutely correct, there are some really good ones that have been written! We’ve listed a few below; fandom, if you know of any others, please leave them in the comments and we’ll update this list.

Life Goes On by @gotham-ruaidh for @imagineclaireandjamie

My Whole Life Depends on You by @desperationandgin

Happy (or maybe sad?) Reading!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hi, maybe my message got lost, but I asked you a little while ago if you could help me find fics that feature Jamie being a dad... preferably modern day AUs. Thank you!!!

Hi there @lemon3ram2xtk!

Your first message seems to have been lost in the tumblr abyss, so thank you for reaching out again! Since the category that you have asked about is a huge one, the Librarians have decided to each recommend a fic to get you started, and then open it up to the fandom for their suggestions. 

Librarian Julia: I’m going to go ahead and recommend a classic: Flood My Mornings by @bonnie-wee-swordsman for @imagineclaireandjamie. If you’re new to the fandom, this is an absolute must-read. Jamie and Claire, living in peace, raising their family together, heavily featuring Jamie in his role as Da? Check!

Librarian Cate: My pick is Idyllwild by @anoutlandishfanfic. We get to see Jamie wear many different hats in this AU as we follow Jamie and Claire through their many years together, but my favorite role he takes in this fic is as Da to his Fraser Half Dozen.  A personal favorite moment in this story is watching Jamie change Faith’s diaper while singing a silly song about hennies and coos - it definitely pulls at the heartstrings! 

Librarian Erica: As much as this story brings me to tears, I am going to pick Deep As The Road is Long by @desperationandgin. Seeing the lengths that Jamie will go for his little girl is so heartwarming and makes me sad that Canon!Jamie missed out!

Librarian Waffles: I am going to go ahead here also point out another classic. Modern Glasgow by @gotham-ruaidh.I love how Gothie takes the two characters we know and love and throws them into a modern AU. We get all the years of before kids, raising the kids, and even Jamie and Claire in their older years with kids. It’s just so magical and always a spirit lifter. 

[thelallybrochlibrary]

I need help please! I'm looking for a fic about Claire and Jamie in world war one. They're together I think and she's still a nurse and he's a general or something. maybe he's giving her a bath? I could be mixing two stories but I'm not sure. I can't remember who wrote it and I forgot my AO3 history is off 😩 any help from anyone would he appreciated!

Hi Anon!

It sounds like you could be looking for The Uncertainty of War by @desperationandgin.

Happy Reading!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Y’all, we are slowly but surely coming back. This week I’ve got a few fics I’ve currently been loving. Some old, some new, but fics nonetheless! I hope you all had a great weekend and enjoy the final days of droughtlander!

Magnificent Strangers: @kalendraashtar​

As most of you all know, anything Kal writes is magic. Magnificent Strangers is no different. There are some of those AUs that give us a twist to Jamie and Claire that is so unique, it’s hard to put into words. This is one of those stories. I could go on and on about Kal, this story, and how beautiful it is, but I don’t want to spoil any of it it. It’s worth the binge.

The Cellist Series: @desperationandgin​

This series is something else. Y’all... It’s just... SO good. There is nothing quite like this in the Outlander fanifc realm, at all. Britt does such a good job encompassing so many different human emotions and giving a new breath of life to Jamie and Claire. This won’t disappoint. 

The Sands of Time: @holdhertightandsayhername​

Again, this one will pull on your heart strings. I fell to the wayside keeping up with this story and reread it all in one sitting. Jen gives her own twist of love, heartache, and times of trouble and it just does not disappoint. An emotional rollercoaster, but so beautifully done. I am sad I waited so long to read this one!

And a shameless self promotion: Time After Time. 

I worked on a part of this because of an ask someone gave me. It reinvigorated my ideas for this story and I hope to crank some of it out. 

Anyways, that’s all Waffs has been reading as of late. I am re-starting the series too, so that will be interesting. Happy Premiere week! May the odds be ever in our favor.

XO, Librarian Waffs

[thelallybrochlibrary]

FEATURE FRIDAY: AUTHOR EDITION 

I want to take a quick moment and apologize for the tardiness in getting these author features back out there. Summer was crazy for me and I have been dealing with a boatload of personal stuff. But, all of that aside, we are back and better than ever! 

This week we are featuring the ever lovely @desperationandgin​! 

Brittany is super patient and kind. She filled out the form about two months ago. (Librarian Waffs is just super tardy in all things!) 

You will find Brittany (or Britt) on the interwebs as desperationandgin. She has been in the Outlander fandom since season 3 and has been writing OL fanfic since February of 2019, though she has been writing fanfiction since about 2010.

Britt’s favorite Outlander character to write is Jamie. She says that “His accent is hard sometimes and knowing when to cut back on ‘ye’ and ‘ken’, but he is so incredibly soft for Claire that sometimes his prose is very, very easy to write.” Though, she does not enjoy writing Laoghaire or Frank.

Her favorite piece of fanfiction that she has written is ‘Tell Them I Remember You.’  She says that once she started she just couldn’t stop until she was done.  

Britt’s favorite Outlander quote is:

“Your face is my heart, Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul.”

She finds inspiration in a variety of places. For ‘Market Price’ she found it while listening to ‘Comin’ Thro’ the Rye’ while walking through the farmer’s market. For DARTIL it came through processing a loss that she was going through. And for ‘Strawberry Wine’ it was inspired by the song with the same name.

Britt says that her writing habits include: “I either write in complete silence or while I am listening to the OL OSTs on repeat. I have plenty of water, I make sure I’m not hungry, and I get to work.”

Her advice to fanfiction writers:

Write an outline!!! For me, I typically see a beginning and resolution very clearly, but it’s the middle that can be a slog if I don’t have a clear idea. Doing an outline helps me organize my thoughts and see if a long fic is even viable; sometimes I realize what I thought would be a long fic could really just be a one-shot. Also, write ahead. My biggest fear is leaving people with a WIP, so I always try to get about 10 chapters written before I begin to post. Even posting twice a week, that’s a good 5-week cushion to keep writing.

Her favorite fanfic trope is the motel room with only one bed. Britt’s favorite Outlander book is Drums of Autumn. 

You can read her work here or over at AO3!

Stay tuned for next week, where we will learn all about another Author on our Catalog!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

LIBRARIAN’S CHOICE: WEEKLY FICS

Happy Monday! I hope you are all having a wonderful start to your week, or if you’re in the US, a great long weekend. Here are some gems to make your day a little brighter.

the stars will sing for us by @fallofrainblog

Claire Beauchamp is just trying to start anew. She finds the fresh start she’s looking for in a small Scottish town, along with a pair of Jamies and all the things she never knew she needed. This one-shot has such an organic, lyrical quality to it, that the reader feels like they’re growing into this new life right alongside Claire. If you’re looking for peaceful and lovely, this is definitely the fic for you!

Market Price by @desperationandgin

Another modern AU, this series starts off with Claire on a rather forced bit of time off, looking for a way to fill her free hours. Well, she finds one rather quickly in the form of a local farmer’s market and a certain farmer therein. What follows is a scavenger hunt, some burnt lamb, a Date Five cut short, and some truly delightful vulnerability. This whirlwind romance is sweet and genuine; make sure to not miss out on the Market Price ficlets as well!

Dr. B, Medicine Woman by @crossinginstyle

This week seems like a good time to highlight Dr. B, as its 100th chapter was recently posted. Yup, you read that right, 100 chapters! At just over 300,000 words, this fic is a big one to dive into, but completely worth it. This is the story of Claire Beauchamp, a Boston lady Doctor who lands into the middle of a small town in the American West in the mid-late 1800s. As the story progresses, she grows more and more entwined with the townspeople; namely with three children who will eventually call her ‘Mama,’ and the mysterious red-headed Mac. While it is inspired by the show Dr Quinn Medicine Woman, it is not at all required to have watched Dr Quinn in order to enjoy this fic. Be warned, this story is the very definition of slowburn! Keep your patience, it will be 100% worth it in the end.

Well, that’s all for this week! I hope you all have a wonderful start of September, and happy reading!

- Librarian Julia

[thelallybrochlibrary]

hello! I was wondering if the fic Strawberry Wine has been updated recently? I can't find it because I don't remember the author, but it was amazing!

Hi there Anon!

Strawberry Wine is written by the fabulous @desperationandgin! And don’t worry, this fic will be back, it’s just on a wee hiatus now that Part 1 is complete; it will be returning in November. Until then, you can re-read on tumblr here, or on AO3 here.

Happy Reading!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hello from Philadelphia! Just looking for a fic in which Jamie is a single father to a little girl with terminal cancer. Claire is her doctor. Thanks!

Hey there @bombechele20! The fic you’re looking for is Deep As The Road Is Long by @desperationandgin. You can find it here on AO3. Enjoy (and maybe grab some tissues)!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

One shots set just after Claire chooses Jamie that first time at the stones?

Sure thing nonnie! We found four fics that seem to fit the bill; all of these stories take place either as Claire chooses Jamie, or immediately after. No fade to black here!

An 18th Century Man by @emmbright

I Love You by @amessoffand0ms

On Your Feet, Soldier by @moghraidhjamie

Take Me Home by @desperationandgin

Happy Reading!

[thelallybrochlibrary]

there was a story about jamie as a farmer and he met Claire at a produce stand. I was reading it and my work computer froze and I lost it. Help?

Hi Nonnie!

There are two stories that sound like what you are describing:

Market Price by @desperationandgin

Tales From a Market by @notevenjokingfic

Happy Reading!

[desperationandgin]

Peaceful Easy Feelin’ (A Market Price One-Shot)

Rating: Explicit (or Mature? IDK.)

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire take their first road trip together.

A/N:  Hello, my friends! After a month of 0 writing, I'm back with an MP one shot. This is, to date, the longest single fic of anything I've written, so I have to deeply thank all of my betas. @filledwithlight, @smashing-teacups, @happytoobserve, @fierceweebadger​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​, thank you so much. I dropped them on this yesterday and felt real bad about it, but they all knocked it OUT. A L S O thank you to @happytoobserve​ for the idea with the game! Annnnnd @fierceweebadger​ even made this GORGEOUS mood board, thank you love! This ficlet takes place after Future Expansions, and I would suggest reading (or re-reading for the tie-in) The Nearness of You afterward!

Peaceful Easy Feelin’

Let it be known, there is nothing sexier than Jamie Fraser pumping petrol while wearing his lumberjack ensemble.

Claire fires off her text to Geillis, subtly watching Jamie’s profile in the side mirror. He’s wearing jeans that make her purposefully linger behind him when they walk; and, to be quite frank, looks as if he stepped straight out of a Barbour ad. When her phone vibrates, she glances down just as he finishes, only having enough time to read part of her friend’s response.

Yer wee fox cub certainly’d like to show ye some wood-

Coughing to hide a laugh, Claire quickly drops her phone down into the bag at her feet as Jamie slides back into the car.

“Ye alright, Sassenach? Want me to go inside, get ye a drink?”

Shaking her head, she smiles and settles into her seat. “No. I’m fine, just eager to go. My expert navigation skills have us at the bed and breakfast by supper.”

The trip from home to the quaint town they’ve read about along the coast is nearly a three-hour road trip on its own. After spending most of the day on Friday making sure things will run smoothly for Jenny and Ian at the farmer’s market, their stop for petrol has them on the lengthiest part of the drive just after three in the afternoon. The temperature is a comfortable 13 Celsius, nice enough to crack the windows and breathe crisp autumn air once they hit the open road. They chat about various things each of them have been meaning to get to (Claire reminds him about the never-ending search for the perfect bedding; Jamie floats the idea of an all-family vacation to one of the cabins near the loch for winter holiday) and weigh the pros and cons of eventually adopting a cat versus a dog.

“I can run wi’ a dog,” Jamie patiently explains, as if that alone should be the winning argument.

“Well, while you run, I can laze around with a cat reading a book and drinking tea,” she responds just as matter-of-factly. “Besides, you don’t run more than once a day, but the dog definitely needs to go out more often than that. How eager are you to put on clothes at eleven p.m.?”

“Ye do tend to have me thoroughly undressed by ten,” Jamie muses, smiling at her soft thwap against his shoulder. “Dogs alert ye to intruders, they like to play, and they can obey.”

“Oh,” Claire scoffs. “Is that what you’re looking for? Something to obey you?”

“I’m no’ generally the commanding type,” Jamie retorts. Anyone trying to command Claire Beauchamp was never going to get very far, in any case. “I only meant they can learn tae do things.”

“Well, so can cats! And they don’t need to be held by the paw to go to the bathroom. I’m right about this.”

“I dinna have anythin’ against havin’ a cheetie, ye ken,” Jamie points out. “My mam had one when I was a wee lad, I liked it fine.”

Claire turns to face him, head tilting to the side. “What was its name?”

Jamie smiles in reflection, sparing a glance at her while he drives. “Adso. He was a fierce hunter, chased away all the mice and ate what dared to linger. She loved that cat until—” He trails off, quiet for a beat before finishing. “No’ long after she died, Adso disappeared. No one remembers seeing him after that, at least.”

Out of habit, Claire rests a hand on his thigh, but as he reaches down for her she meets him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Adso was truly your mother’s. That’s beautiful, Jamie.”

For a few minutes the memory lingers, the image of his mother curled up with the kitten suddenly swimming to the surface. He can remember the sound of her calling out sweetly for her cat, and the rediscovered memory sways his decision.

“When we’re finally settled after the honeymoon, we’ll see about a cheetie of our own,” Jamie promises, wrapping up the debate for good.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn’t mean to drift, and she’s alarmed to find herself alone in a still car when her eyes open. Before she can wonder too long, Jamie appears, exiting a quaint-looking home that she realizes must be Eskview Farm in St. Cyrus: the true starting point of the road trip. They’re staying for two evenings, planning a day at the beach (in jeans and jumpers) before heading out on the 30th toward Aberdeen. From there, it’s onward to Slains Castle just in time for Samhein, the questionably haunted portion of their road trip beginning and ending with a tour of Bram Stoker’s inspiration.

Getting out of the car, Claire stretches and Jamie detours, moving to her side instead of grabbing a bag from the boot.

“You were snorin’,” he teases, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

“If I was, it was only because I found myself quite content,” she explains, granting him another kiss as she leans back against the car. “Our first road trip.”

“First road trip. How’s it feel, Sassenach?”

She smiles as she presses her lips to his cheek, then grazes his stubble with the tip of her nose. “How it always feels to be with you.”

Jamie’s lips find the crook of her neck, one hand wandering under her shirt, caressing her back slowly. “And how does that feel?” he whispers in inquiry, dropping a kiss to her pulse.

Claire feels as though she’s standing on a swaying ship, closing her eyes as warmth blooms in her belly. “It feels like an adventure with you, Jamie. Every day.” Sinking into him, her arms loop around his waist as her face nuzzles against his shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is muffled, but she doesn’t move. “And you cannot feel me up in the parking lot of our bed and breakfast.”

“And why no’?” Jamie asks, lips trailing to her collarbone now.

Her eyes drift to the porch and the pleasant-looking elderly woman eyeing them. “Because I think the proprietor is on the porch,” she laughs softly, stifling it against his shoulder. “I’m ready for a shower, though. With company.”

Distraction accomplished (and faster than she expected), they’re shown to a room exploding with lace and doilies, a teddy bear draped in a strand of pearls sitting on the dresser. Once they’re alone, Claire stops trying to hide her laughter and raises an eyebrow. “Someone not take a glance at the photo gallery before booking?”

Jamie, having opened the closet door, stands frozen to the spot. “Sassenach, I cannae think of words tae properly describe what I’m seein’, so just come look.”

Curious, Claire goes to his side, peeking in, and lets out another bark of a laugh as a row of wooden puppets stares down at them from the top shelf. “Well, this is supposed to be a spooky road trip.”

“Spooky and creepy are verra different things,” Jamie feels the need to point out as he firmly closes the door again, tugging off his shirt.

“How so?” she asks, heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

He follows her, shedding shoes and jeans in his wake. “Creepy is more on the weird side, ye ken? Like perhaps a person who has that many wooden puppets has other things in her cupboards. But spooky is just aesthetic, Sassenach.”

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder and appreciating the fact that he’s made quick work of his clothing. “I must say, I feel properly educated on the subject now. Thank you.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pecks his lips lightly before pressing closer. “I see I’m suddenly overdressed.”

“And the shower was your idea, even. I see what yer up to, distracting me from gropin’ ye in the parkin’ lot.”

Claire laughs, delighted at him — at them — and lets him undress her, if only to feel his fingers against her skin as he exposes it. “You can grope me just as well in the shower, you know.” The last word is a soft exhale as his fingers graze up her sides, pushing her shirt up as he goes and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Aye, I plan to. Dinna fash about that,” he breathes out against her clavicle, hands reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, gently pushing the straps down her shoulders. As he pulls the garment away, Jamie steps back to admire her — topless, in jeans, still wearing her practical walking shoes.

Tugging at her hand, he pulls her to the mirror, grinning at her reflection. “Ye look ridiculous right now.” She’s laughing too hard to respond, shoulders shaking with it. “I mean, it is a look, Sassenach.”

“Would you shut up and get me naked, please?” Claire finally sputters, heaving out a breath as she tries to stop herself from another round of hysterics.

Laughing with her, he unbuttons her jeans, turning her around to kiss her laughing mouth as he pushes them down her body. “I could distract ye wi’ bawdy things.”

Her laughter catches and she clears her throat. “Do go on. What sort of bawdy things will you do to me while the puppets listen?”

It’s his turn to laugh and he does, loudly against her ear. “Nevermind, ye ruined it."

“We’ve wasted enough hot water,” she decides, kicking off her shoes and shimmying the rest of the way out of her jeans, even as he pushes her knickers (with wee hearts on them; a joke gift on her birthday before the real gift of the skimpiest things he’d ever bought) down her legs.

Once all offending pieces are discarded, they step into the bath-shower-combination together, realizing the tight squeeze almost immediately.

“You know,” Claire begins. “Every movie and television show I’ve ever watched would have me believe sex in the shower is effortless. Easy, even.”

There’s hardly room to turn around, let alone do any groping, and Jamie graciously steps back to let Claire have the water. “This is why we never tried it before,” he points out. “I’m no’ prepared to break a hip on vacation.”

With a smirk, Claire wets her hair while facing him. “I’m glad you’re more practical than horny. My own hips thank you.”

When she turns her back to him, Jamie wordlessly reaches for one of the decorative (but unlabeled) bottles, sniffs it, and determines based on color and smell it must be the shampoo. Lathering it into her hair, he massages her scalp in the tamest of ways, but his cock is doing very little to help with his restraint.

“If either of us breaks anything then we cannae have one another for Christ knows how long, so I’m no’ willin’ to risk it,” he supplies practically, working on her hair until she has a well-shaped soap afro and letting her go to rinse—his favorite part.

Closing her eyes, Claire reaches up, working the water through her hair. “Then I suppose we’ll be boring and wait for bed,” she teases, scrunching her nose as soap drips down her face.

Jamie reaches up to wipes the offending suds away, then looks at the high edges of the tub. “I do have an idea. No’ quite what they write in bodice rippers, but somethin’.” As she finishes rinsing her hair, Jamie pushes the shower curtain behind his body before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hips are at the perfect height, and he grins while dragging a finger over her skin.

Turning to rinse any lingering soap from her face, Claire finally finishes and eyes him warily. “What are you going to do?”

Carefully ensuring she doesn’t slip, Jamie pulls her closer and coaxes her left foot up onto the edge of the tub. When his gaze shifts to the view directly in front of his eyes, any half-hardness of his cock goes to full attention. It’s enough to make him groan, lips pressing to her stomach.

“Christ, ye have no idea how mind-blowin’ ye are.”

After his words, his tongue traces the crease where hip joins torso, feeling her shiver despite the warmth of the shower.

“I have—” her words falter, breath hitching as his fingers part her. “—you doing this. I know how to take a hint.” One of her hands pushes through his hair, and gripping a handful of said curls, she presses her hips forward against his mouth.

“Impatient,” he scolds, but the words are muffled as he’s helpless to fulfill her request. He can’t imagine what would need to be wrong with him to deny her, and he hopes to never discover it. His tongue teases around the enticing warmth of her, but his focus shifts to nerves already taut with anticipation. He waits for half a heartbeat before slowly circling his tongue around it, feeling her hand tighten in his hair, her curls brushing the top of his head as her own bows.

With one hand wrapped around her calf to keep her steady, the other moves to her opposite hip while his mouth devours her, doing all of the work. He grunts at the feel of her thigh against the side of his head, absorbing each tremble until her body pitches forward a bit. That’s when he begins listening: to the sweetest sounds that exist just for him, his own private performance.

When she’s close, when pleasure causes her hips to writhe of their own accord, she makes a keening sound; head falling back as her lips part, cheeks flushed the sweetest hue of pink, curls skimming the pearlescent expanse of her shoulders. A high-pitched cry comes next as she tenses, the skin right between her eyebrows furrowing as she chases her climax. Two letters, a gasped out “Ja—” is all the warning he has before a loud, unchecked moan fills the room, not at all drowned out by the sound of the shower. One hand is buried in his hair, while the other clutches his shoulder, leaving red half-moon marks in the wake of her pleasure.

Lapping at the fruits of his labor, Jamie hums in contentment, tongue lazily gliding along warm, slick flesh before nosing at soft curls and finally kissing her hip. As everything in her eases and relaxes, he gently lowers her leg, his arm sliding around her waist as he stands. He gathers her close, standing sideways with her in the shower as his lips find hers for a series of soft, tender kisses. Without prompting, he reaches for the soap and washes her, slowly bringing her down from her high with more touch, this time soothing instead of lust-filled.

When she can finally move again, Claire reaches out to cradle his face in her hands, smiling in blissed-out contentment. “I think I might have to marry you.”

Having previously deemed the shower too dangerous for more strenuous activities, they finish washing and step out, lazily drying in favor of kissing and touching again.

“I cannae be near ye and not want ye,” Jamie confesses against the hollow of her throat as she leans back against the vanity. After a brief pause to plant a kiss over her heart, his mouth envelops a nipple, the warm curve of her breast still damp from the shower.

With one hand braced behind her on the bathroom counter, her other reaches out to drag up and down his back. Claire’s eyes close, head tilting back as she encourages him. “I don’t have it in me to mind.” Her final word is said on a sharp gasp as the tip of his cock presses insistently against her. His mouth hasn’t stopped, moving to the opposite breast to shower it with the same affection as his hands begin lifting. She expects to be moved to the counter, but instead, he coaxes her legs around his waist once he comes up for air.

“Tell me I can have ye now,” he pants across her cheek, beginning to make his way out of the bathroom toward the bed.

“You can have me, Jamie. You can always have me.” Her lips fuse to his, and in a display of exactly how weak he is, she finds herself pressed against the wall, feet from the bed. Before she can tease him, he’s inside of her, and whatever thoughts she once had are replaced by a series of white bursts of light behind closed eyelids. Her hands grasp at his shoulders, frantically trying to find solid purchase on the scarred terrain of his back as he anchors her between his body and the wall.

Forgetting that they aren’t, in fact, in their own home, an unrestrained moan tumbles from her lips, so loud that it makes his own ears ring. Jamie slams forward, doing nothing to help keep her quiet as he sinks deeply into her. His loud groan is swallowed by her mouth, though there’s no resemblance to a kiss thanks to both of them gasping for lungfuls of air. He can tell that she’s focused again by the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and digs her heels into his lower back. She’s close, but not close enough, which has him sneaking a hand between them, only just able to reach her clit with his thumb. It’s plenty; she jerks as though touched by a live wire, and as her body contracts around him, he holds a thrust while burying his face against her neck. Letting her carry him with her, both of them breathlessly whimper the other’s name as waves of pleasure begin to recede.

It’s firm knocking on the door that brings first Jamie, then Claire, out of their post-sex stupor, still slumped against the wall. He lowers her gently to the ground, and when her legs are no longer as wobbly as a new foal’s, he steps back, tossing on jeans and answering the door sans shirt. While he does, Claire revisits the bathroom, cleaning herself up a bit until she hears the door close and lock.

“What was that about?” she asks curiously, making her way to the bed and crawling in naked.

“We’re deviants,” Jamie replies casually, laying on the bed and shifting so that she can drape over him. “It was the person next room over. Apparently, ye sound like a dying coo, Sassenach.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didna say it! The woman next door did. I politely disagreed, and she told me that to answer the door in such a state of undress was a mark on my puir soul.”

“Was she about eighty years of age?” Claire mutters, blushing a little.

Laughing, Jamie pulls her closer, kissing her forehead. “Closer to eighty-five, I think. I promised her we’d be leavin’ after breakfast in the morning and until then, no more rude noises.”

“You think they’re rude?”

“I happen to find them verra adorable. Sexy too, if it helps,” he playfully taunts.

She huffs, pretending to be greatly put out. “And what if I wanted to try and get you to make rude noises before 5 a.m?”

With a smirk, Jamie curves a hand around her hip. “If ye’re awake before 5 a.m. on our vacation, Sassenach, I’ll make all the wee noises ye’d like.”

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Morning comes (but not either of them, thanks to Claire sleeping straight through the alarm), and after a few impolite stares from other breakfast goers, Jamie and Claire wander along the beach, properly freezing before driving into town to shop (Jamie buys a ridiculously priced book of Scottish poems printed in the 18th century, Claire sneakily buys cufflinks to give Jamie before their wedding), have lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon at a whiskey distillery in Aberdeen. Research, he says, and she agrees to a point—until they walk out more than a few pounds lighter. Still, there isn’t much to worry about as the day begins to fade and they make their way back to the bed and breakfast.

As politely as they can, they rush through supper before escaping to their room; both of them miss the look of contempt shot at them from their neighbor in the corner.

Once their road trip resumes, Claire takes over the driving, opting for an Eagles playlist as the low background music. A half-hour in, Jamie reaches behind Claire to retrieve a bag from the backseat, rummaging while he explains himself.

“I told Jen we were goin’ on this trip and she suggested we borrow a game she bought a while back.”

“A game?” Claire asks with suspicious wariness, glancing at him as he settles back in his seat with a plastic bag full of small square cards.

“Aye, she bought it for a dinner party, when we started havin’ vendors to the farm for get-togethers. To break the ice, ye pick a card and ask the room whatever the question is and everyone answers.”

“It sounds like something you do when you work in a business office and go to company retreats,” she says dryly, looking behind her to change lanes. “And I’m driving, I can’t stop to read.”

“Come on, Sassenach, it’ll be fun. I’ll read them all, but every other card, I’ll answer first. Deal?”

“What could you possibly not know about me by now?”

Jamie takes that as his cue to draw a card and read it off. “‘Have ye ever bought anythin’ from a TV infomercial?’” He looks at her expectantly. “Weel?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, and I’m not ashamed of it like that question implies I should be.” There’s a slight huff at the end, but when he looks over, he sees the corner of her upper lip twitch as she tries to suppress a smile in favor of mock annoyance.

“What was it then? Can I guess?”

Now it’s impossible to hide her smile. “You can try. But it was years before I met you and I don’t own it anymore.”

“Oh, so it worked sae well ye got rid of it?”

“No. I lost track of it during a move and never bothered to replace it. Tell me what you’re thinking it could be,” Claire retorts, deciding maybe the game is alright after all.

“A kitchen gadget?” he attempts on his first try, then goes through various electronic gadgets, home remedy devices, and articles of clothing before giving up.

“A towel,” Claire tells him succinctly.

“A towel? One single towel ye ordered off of television?”

“Specifically for drying my hair. It had a tab in the back to secure it like a turban until these curls were as dry as they could get without assistance,” she explains. “What have you bought from an infomercial?”

“Nothin’ at all, I can honestly say. Do they even have them anymore?”

“Towels?”

“No, ye wee brat. Infomercials.”

Laughing, she shrugs in genuine ignorance. “If they do, I haven’t seen one in a while. What’s the next question?”

Glad to see her seemingly into the idea of the game, he pulls another card. “Alright. I’ll answer first. The question is ‘do ye possess any of the qualities of yer astrological sign?’ Claire, I couldna tell ye at all. I ken I’m a Taurus, but after that, ‘tis a mystery.”

“Geillis is really into horoscopes, you know. She told me that apparently you’re supposed to be devoted and responsible, so lucky me. Stubbornness happens to be a trait of your sign, and the more we talk, the more I think there might be something to that. You know what else a Taurus likes?”

“No, but I’m interested to hear,” Jamie declares, wondering when this conversation with her neighbor happened.

“Apparently, and I wouldn’t know anything about this, you’re supposed to be good with your hands.” When she glances at him, her grin is so toothy that they both laugh, spending a few seconds recovering from it.

“I’m ashamed to admit I’m no’ even sure what your sign is. What are you supposed to be like, accordin’ to October twentieth?”

“I’m a Libra. You’ll have to tell me if I’m gracious, diplomatic, and indecisive, with a love of the outdoors.”

Leaning back as if to appraise her, Jamie ponders it. “I’ve never kent ye to be indecisive. Careful to choose, perhaps, but no’ unable to make up yer mind. And either ye love the outdoors or the acting ye do at the farm is award-worthy.”

Claire smiles, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm for a second. “I love it. All of it, everything that comes with you and Lallybroch.” Her life before him of simply waking up and going to work was status quo for so long that the moment James Fraser stepped into her life, it was as if an entire world had opened up to her. Family and togetherness, love and warmth. Every single bit of her happiness comes from that farm.

“Next question?”

Pulling a card, his face softens. “What’s the most beautiful drive ye’ve ever taken, Sassenach?” She smiles at him sweetly; it’s a quick glance that feels as though it lasts forever, a moment neither of them wants to forget, and so it seems to stretch on. In unison, they answer.

“This one.”

“‘Which American landmark would ye most like to see?’ The Grand Canyon I think, aye? We’ve both talked about that one,” Jamie answers first.

Humming her agreement, Claire adds on to the wishlist. “I want to see the older parts of the country. The original Colonies, where it’s all the most historic.”

“Perhaps in ten years or so, we could take a trip, visit museums and the like,” he offers.

In confusion, she balks. “A decade? Why are we waiting a decade to visit America?”

His shrug is easy as he draws another card. “Our first bairn would be school age, able to appreciate it more, aye?”

As Claire stops at an intersection, she takes the time to look at him, eyes moving over his face and expressing a dozen things she doesn’t say aloud. Instead, as she begins to drive again, she agrees with him. “According to your rigorous baby-making schedule? Yes, we’ll have a nice school-aged child and probably two others by then.”

Jamie’s laughing as he looks at the next card, then makes a noise in the back of his throat as he really reads what he’s pulled.

“What’s the hardest thing ye’ve ever done, Sassenach?”

The air in the car shifts as she thinks, straightening up in the seat. It’s with that question she realizes maybe he doesn’t know some things. The things she doesn’t talk about, the things she’s pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind in favor of not sinking into pieces of her past.

“I can draw another,” he offers after her silence stretches for a full minute.

Shaking her head, Claire wets her lips. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, really. I mean, I haven’t thought about it—” She pauses again and looks at him from her peripheral vision before focusing on the road. “The first time I told someone their loved one didn’t make it. It was only my fifth surgery, a young man. He was twenty-three; he’d been biking with his friends and swerved to avoid a pothole, but his rear tire caught it.”

It really wasn’t her fault he died on the table. She knows that now; but then, younger and hearing the single monotone beep after her hands had been trying to save a life, it felt as though she’d killed him herself.

“He crashed into a metal fence, the kind with the sharp point at the tip? One went right through him, and I did the surgery. Everything went fine, I thought. I had no idea there was a nicked artery and he was bleeding elsewhere. When he died...telling his parents, his beautiful young wife…that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Jamie watches Claire as she speaks, watches her face, her hands on the steering wheel. He checks to see if she’s white-knuckling it at any point, and listens as she checks herself for wobbles in her voice. He knows her, knows her heart, and realizes that must have taken a toll. “But ye got through it?” he asks quietly, reaching over to rest his hand on her leg while she drives in a show of quiet support.

“It took a long time,” she admits, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Those don’t get easier, ever, but the first one is always the most difficult. And the hardest part was convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault.” She’ll never forget any of the wails she’s heard, will never forget the people waiting at the hospital alone who had no one to comfort them but her.

Exhaling again, she drops her hand to squeeze his. “Your turn.”

Even when she replaces her hand on the steering wheel, Jamie keeps his own on her leg as he answers. “Watching my da slowly lose it after my mam died.” His eyes move to the window, unable to look at Claire as he speaks. “I’ll always think he died of a broken heart, dinna care how cliche it sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds cliche. I think he lost the most important person in his life,” she soothes. Once she’s on a long stretch of straight road, her hand drops again to cover his.

“He truly didna want to go on wi’ out her. Her death, Willie’s, they broke him, and he was never going to be the same. When he died, it was almost a relief, Sassenach,” Jamie confesses quietly. “To ken he’d be wi’ her again, that he was no longer here in a state of perpetual grief. He tried to be brave. You would have liked him, I think. I ken for sure he would have loved ye, Claire.”

“I wish I could have met him. Your father sounds like he was a wonderful man, Jamie.” A wonderful man who raised an incredible son. Claire isn’t sure what she believes — if her parents and uncle will be waiting to greet her when she dies — but she does know one thing for sure. “If I ever lost you, I don’t know if I would be any different.”

His hand squeezes around hers before raising it to his lips in a soft kiss against her inner wrist. “I’ll try to never go where ye cannae come wi’ me, Sassenach.”

She doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Then I promise the same.”

They can’t — not really — but the words are sweet, the sentiment real.

Time melts away and she loses track of how many questions they’ve answered before she warns him they’re ten minutes away from the castle.

“Last one then,” he concludes. “If ye could do something dangerous just once, with no risk, what would ye do?”

Claire has to think about it, then hedges her answer. “Where are we on the danger scale?”

“I would jump out of a plane. Or perhaps let NASA launch me into space.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she retorts with a scoff. “You’re never jumping out of a plane or anything close to it. Especially not with your plan for ten children.”

Jamie snickers as he puts the cards away, spying a road sign to Slains Castle. “I do have a different answer if ye’re interested. No’ really dangerous physically, but it could be a financial disaster if it doesna go right.”

She knows this has to be about the farm, and she looks at him curiously after making the final turn of the trip. “What is it?”

He hesitates, and she’s pulling up to the dilapidated ruins before he answers. Once the car is in park, he turns to look at her fully. “I want to expand into America. Once we finish wi’ the distillery, I want to market to restaurateurs and chefs in the States.”

She can tell he’s nervous about broaching it; she knows it will take a lot of late nights and frequent travel on his part. She studies his face for a moment before unbuckling her seatbelt in order to reach over and cradle his face in her hands. It’s an awkward position thanks to the center console, but she’s determined to make it work.

“You should do it. Do it because you’re afraid. Do it because I’ll be here to help along the way.” She pauses to kiss him softly. “Do it because I know you won’t go through with anything you don’t believe in, Jamie.”

A swell of emotion makes his eyes narrow a bit, the underlying surprise turning into a small, pleased smile. “Ye dinna think it’s too risky?”

Claire kisses him again before she pulls back to turn off the car, opening the door as she answers. “It’s going to be the riskiest thing you’ll ever do with our money,” she corrects, but after walking around to the passenger side of the car and opening the door, she waits until he’s out to finish her thought. “I’m not going to say ‘no risk, no reward.’”

“Oh, thank Christ. It’s uninspired.” His hands come to rest on her hips as his eyes study her face intently. “You’re serious, though? About looking into expanding, what it would take?”

Looking around at the currently unoccupied grounds, she walks with him toward the unattractive, not at all well-kept castle—a rarity for historical buildings in Scotland, as far as she’s observed. “I’m serious, Jamie. You’d never be happy knowing you could be doing more. You should look into it, find out what Ian thinks, and see about getting in touch with your cousin Jared? It’s different than wine, but he might have some useful contacts in the liquor business.”

Jamie has to stop solely to reach for her, ignoring the scenery around them and focusing on this woman he’ll be calling his wife in six months. With his hands at her sides, his forehead presses to hers. “You have no idea how incredible ye are. Everything I’ve done and all that I want to do, I’m no’ ever worried it’s too much to put ye through.”

“Silly man,” she says with a soft smile, nuzzling the side of his nose with her own. “Nothing about you could ever be too much.” Kissing him with a quiet, content sigh against his lips, she reaches for his hand after stepping away. “Now. Explore a castle before sunset with me?”

Following her lead and seeing a grand total of three other tourists while exploring, he listens while she tells him everything she knows about the castle, including that it was once difficult to determine which areas had been outdoor spaces and which were actually interior rooms. It was a confusing space, and as they cross the property to look out at the cliffs, she stands close enough to Jamie that an arm winds around her without thinking much about it.

“Are ye pleased wi’ yer Samhein road trip, Sassenach? Is this terrifyin’ enough for ye?”

“It isn’t what I thought it would be after reading the book,” she notes idly. “I had no expectations, and the view is beautiful. The drive was worth it. This just feels...I don’t know. Cold.”

“Could be that it’s currently freezin’ out,” Jamie notes, getting an elbow to the side for his wit. “Could ye imagine livin’ in a castle? Having meals in great rooms, wandering the stone halls wi’ a torch.”

“Is that how you imagine us? Living in a castle with a staff to wait on us hand and foot?” They walk to the interior of the castle now, stopping in a room with a fireplace. “This could have been a bedroom, for all we know. Imagine a large bed with four posts. A crackling fireplace.”

She’s stepped away from him to look into various nooks and crannies, and it gives him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. “I’m certainly imagining a few specific things,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Of course you are,” she says with a smile so large he can feel the way her body relaxes with it.

“I’m thinking of making love to ye on the floor wi’ a bear skin rug beneath us. A fire going in the hearth.”

Closing her eyes, she tries to picture it, the way the room would have looked and felt; dark, probably, with the hearth doubling as warmth and light. “Would you mind it much? Not having electricity or modern conveniences?”

“If you were wi’ me? Nah,” he murmurs as he turns her to face him, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Dinna think I would mind much at all, so long as we were together.”

Pressing closer to escape the chill, her arms wrap fully around him as he reciprocates and both of them sink into one another.

“Are you happy?” Claire suddenly inquires, whispering the question as they stand together in the ruins.

“I dinnae ken if how happy I am can be measured properly. I’m happy to be here wi’ ye right now. Happy to do all of this driving, happy to be marrying ye, Claire.” Moving his fingers under her chin, he tilts her head up in order to deepen their kiss.

She gives in easily, lips parting as his tongue does a very thorough exploration of her mouth. As he does, her hands wander, dragging to the button of his jeans. “We may not have the furs or the fire, but I could certainly see about making you a little happier,” she offers with a coy grin, then pauses. “Unless there are qualms.” Her raised eyebrows suggest she knows there will be exactly zero qualms.

“If I tell ye to stop, it’ll only be on account of unexpected company. But at some point, my brain willna work and ye’ll be on yer own.”

“Well,” she begins, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down as her hands cup equal handfuls of a heavenly sculpted backside. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” When she kisses him, she can feel his laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You. How long have ye been thinkin’ about this?”

“Honestly?” she asks, backing him up a couple of feet until he can brace against what she hopes is a sturdy wall.

“Aye, of course.” His eyes follow her movements as she sinks to her knees in front of him, but she delays answering to softly kiss along the line of his pelvis. It’s enough to convince his cock as one hand reaches for her hair.

“On the cliffs.” She licks her palm, wraps her hand around him, and begins a slow stroke. “You were taking a picture of the view.”

“Really got ye goin’?”

Instead of saying anything in return, Claire presses her lips to the tip of him before using both mouth and hand to show him exactly how inspirational she found his body in profile. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, she hums in response to his long, low groan as one hand holds onto his thigh.

“Christ, Sassenach, do that again,” Jamie requests, panting, eyes so dark they nearly look black as he watches her intently.

She does as he asks, letting her tongue travel the length of him, slower this time. The way he shudders makes her own arousal ache pleasantly, so she indulges in the action once more. After repeating the action a fourth time, her mouth moves away in order to kiss along his inner thighs softly, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Each shaky inhale is a point of pride, and when he least suspects, Claire’s mouth moves around him again, this time finding a rhythm and not moving away.

With one hand pressing flat against the wall behind him, the other tangles in her hair. He doesn’t move her, but rather uses her curls to anchor himself. He focuses on the feel of them, the way they stretch but spring back to life instantly. He thinks of anything to keep from coming too soon, though she certainly is hell-bent.

“I’m no’—” he curses in Gaelic, wondering if this is how she feels when he’s greedy for her. “Mas e do thoil e, Sassenach,” he pleads, and the hand against the old castle wall attempts to clutch the stone as his body begins to tense.

It’s impossible to resist when he says please, and so she moves intently, closing her eyes as she focuses not on what she’s doing necessarily, but on him. The way the pads of his fingers grip her shoulders instead of his nails (she offers no such courtesy), and the way he’s careful not to actually pull her hair. His breathing, where before he took controlled but shaky breaths, is now panting gasps, each sound beginning to hitch. When she knows he’s going to come, one hand drags its way up his inner thigh to feel the way his muscles tighten, and the loud groan of her name is enough that she can feel the vibration from his body to her palm.

He loses it completely after that, head dropping back as his vision darkens and he’s sure he’s left his body. When pleasure begins to ebb and his heart seems content not to pound out of his chest, Jamie still can’t open his eyes. Her hands are warm on his body, but eventually she tucks him back into his boxers and jeans before standing. It’s then that he finally looks at her, a lopsided and lazy grin greeting her.

“Are you happy, Sassenach?”

As his arms envelop her, Claire rests her head so that she can listen to the now-normal beat of his heart.

“Aye, Jamie,” she replies, kissing his chest tenderly before raising her head to look at him. “I am.”

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Chapter 11, Part 1)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Claire’s existence, as celebrated by Jamie.

Author’s Note: This is the last chapter before the finale of part 1!

Chapter 11: The Biggest Fear Was September

I didn’t recall my legs moving, but I found myself suddenly in Jamie’s arms, my own tightly around his neck as I hugged him fiercely.

“Are ye surprised?” he asked with a broad smile, pulling back to see my face.

“Yes, you foolish Scot, I am! How – you must have left yesterday, what about your classes?” I inquired, not wanting him to miss anything and risk his grades on my behalf.

“Aye, I left as soon as I finished. Today I only had a test, so I asked to take it early. Tomorrow is a class Ian and I have together, and I return Sunday evening. He’ll mind the notetaking for me this once.”

I listened, but had gone long enough without kissing him. Bridging the infinitesimal gap between us, I pressed my lips to his, cradling his face in my hands. It was chaste, considering where we were, and I pulled back to let my nose graze the side of his. “I’ve missed you so much,” I murmured, eyes closed as I pressed my face against his neck and breathed deeply.

“Aye, I’ve missed ye fiercely, mo nighean donn. There’s a restaurant in my hotel. Would ye care to join me for supper?”

“Just let me change clothes, and I’ll be right back down,” I promised, kissing him one more time before leaving to go upstairs. I was midway through zipping up a navy colored dress when Gillian came through the door.

“That is yer man downstairs sitting there like a Roman sculpture, is it no’?”

I laughed, turning and pointing to my zipper so she could end my struggle. “He does cut a striking figure, doesn’t he?” Without missing a beat, she zipped me up, then began unpinning my hair. “What are you doing?” I asked, reaching back to try and salvage my hairstyle.

“Let the curls down, Claire, ye look more like yerself. Ye’re about to leave here and dinna tell me there’s no’ a plan in sight to have yer way wi’ him. If you come back to this room tonight, so help me God, I’ll knock yer heid straight in.”

I barked out another laugh and looked at her in the mirror with my nose scrunched. “Ever the supportive friend. Won’t I be in trouble if I’m not back by ten?”

“I’m a professional, ye ken. I can cover for ye here and Mistress Helldegarde will no’ ever be the wiser. So, ye spend the night wi’ yer lad,” she said with a casual shrug. “Take a change of clothes wi’ ye, and in the morning, I’ll take your books with me to class, meet ye there.”

I turned and pulled my friend in, kissing her cheek in gratitude. “Have I ever told you what an incredible roommate you are?”

“Och, save it for yer boyfriend, Claire,” she chided, but I caught the hint of a smile before turning back to my hair.

By the time I made it back downstairs, Jamie was surrounded by women, and I had to hide a smirk at how desperate he looked to be anywhere else. As soon as he saw me, his relieved smile caused the other girls to turn and look at who’d walked in. It made me blush – prettily, I hoped – as I made my way to him, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

It didn’t matter that one of the other girls (Geneva Dunsany, who walked around with a stick of superiority shoved right up her arse) was quite literally hanging on to Jamie’s arm.

Reaching out, Jamie took my hand, eyes on me as his thumb grazed the bottom of my wrist.

“Aye, my own. Je suis prest.”

I spared a glance at Geneva, who wasn’t bothering to hide the fact that she was offended by my mere existence. As I slid my hand into Jamie’s and our fingers laced together, I smiled sweetly at her before turning to lead Jamie out to the street.

We walked together, hands swinging as I excitedly filled him in on all the things I hadn’t quite been able to get across in a letter. For once, I didn’t mind being the one to go on, happy to answer his questions as they arose all the way to the hotel. I only stopped when he pulled out a chair for me at the dinner table. Sitting, I laid my napkin out over my lap and finally took a breath, taking a moment to simply look at him.

“I missed you,” I breathed out, not for the first time, feeling my eyes begin to shine against my will.

Reaching across the table, Jamie took my hand in his, thumb again grazing the delicate skin of my wrist – a new favorite spot, it seemed. “I missed ye, a nighean. I could listen to ye speak for miles more; I’ve never been sae disappointed to reach a destination.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand, and we took our time over dinner, savoring the food as much as one another. In the back of my mind, I wondered how much money he had to spare on such a lavish meal (complete with a bottle of wine and a rich creme brulee for dessert), but it was my birthday, and this gift of simply being with him and sharing a good meal more than made sense.

As I reached for my glass of water, Jamie’s hand snagged mine, and as soon as our eyes locked, the ambient noise in the room faded until all I could hear was the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears and Jamie’s voice.

“Will ye... come up to bed wi’ me, Sassenach?”

Keeping my gaze steady on his, a slow smile spread across my lips as my fingers curled around his hand.

“To bed? Or to sleep?”

Our shared (but silent) exchange rendered the question unnecessary to answer aloud.

After settling the bill, Jamie helped me stand, the two of us walking leisurely toward the elevator and then slowly down the long hallway toward his room. It was as if neither one of us were aching and eager to be behind that closed door; this walk was our foreplay, and each step was accompanied by a spark in my belly. His hand wasn’t quite holding mine; instead, his pinky grazed the side of my palm, my own small finger hooking in his. When I glanced up at Jamie, he happened to look down at me, his eyes already a midnight blue, dark and wanting.

Once we reached room 501, I found myself pressed to the back of a closed door almost as soon as it was locked. I was standing in a dark room with Jamie’s mouth desperately on mine, tongue eagerly seeking permission to kiss me harder. Granting it, I lifted one foot, then the other as he hoisted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as we kissed. We were navigating blindly in the dark, Jamie walking backward as my tongue became reacquainted with his. As he stumbled into a table and sent a box of tissue tumbling to the ground, I dropped my hips against the obvious bulge in his trousers, causing him to groan.

“Christ, I cannae even see straight, let alone walk,” he decided when we’d gone far enough.

We happened to be directly in front of the dresser with its attached mirror. When he sat me on top of it, our eyes met and I could have ignited on the spot at how predatory he looked. It made my fingers curl around the edge of the wooden surface, leaning my body forward as his fingers dipped beneath my hair to find the zipper of my dress. The hitching sound of the material parting matched my breathing, the anticipation causing even the smallest hairs on my arms to rise.

“I need to watch ye, Claire. I need to see ye.” His words were part request, part demand, but either way, my legs acquiesced as they parted, cradling the hardness of him between my thighs.

“Get this dress off of me, please,” I whined, my hands pushing at his jacket before trying to shove his shirt up and over his head.

“Patience,” he whispered directly into my ear before biting at my earlobe.

What I intended to be a soft whimper turned into a louder moan as his hand cupped my sex, making a home between my thighs.

“Are ye already wet, I wonder?” he asked, questing fingers finding their answer as they slid, slick and easy to dip into me before he withdrew and glided higher, making my hips jerk and my body lurch forward.

“I want to feel you.” My voice sounded ragged and desperate and I didn’t care – I needed him, unashamed for him to know how much.

“Oh, I plan to make ye feel as much as ye can stand,” Jamie promised in a way that made my heart thud with anticipation. When he withdrew his hand I whimpered, but it became clear very quickly that he was making an attempt to get my dress off. Instead of letting it slip down my legs, he bunched the material up, shimmying it over my torso and chest as I raised my arms obediently. Once my head was free, I was left with riotous curls deciding to go rogue, springing forth every which way they pleased.

Stepping back to simply gaze at me, he sighed the sound of the most contented man in all of London.

“Christ, ye’re sae bonny, Claire. Everything about ye is perfect.” As he spoke, one hand dragged heavily up my belly until he could cup a breast in his hand. He squeezed firmly, making me press into his touch before reaching around to unhook my brassiere, letting it fall down my arms. “Will ye let me have my way wi’ ye?”

One hand pushed through his curls as I decided not to fight the urge to guide him toward a breast. “Anything,” I gasped, as soon as he latched onto a nipple and began to suck. He let my response hang, having his fill of both breasts before finally raising his head. “Anything you want,” I repeated, looking right at him.

Without responding, he pushed cotton material down my legs until I could kick it off. Then, his hand found me again and all I could do was sink into the bliss and pleasure Jamie was coaxing out of me, stroke by stroke. By the time I shattered and cried out his name, I was positive my heart now resided somewhere low in my belly, my need nowhere near satiated.

Bringing me down slowly, Jamie kissed my neck and down along the curve of my shoulder before stepping back.

“Turn around, a nighean,” he commanded quietly.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing in front of me, trousers and underwear discarded, hand around his cock and slowly stroking. I was captivated and couldn’t stop watching, feeling my breath hitch as I watched his palm graze the tip, able to see his body shudder.

“Turn around?” I’d lost the ability to understand, rationally, what he wanted.

So, he showed me.

Gently, he slid me down to the ground, then turned my body so that I was facing the mirror. That’s when it clicked, and my gaze met his reflection’s.

“Is this alright?” Jamie asked as his lips pressed to my shoulder, and I could feel him, hard and pressing against my hip.

“Yes.” My voice sounded froggy this time, hoarse with the anticipation of watching Jamie watch me.

My one-syllable permission was all he needed to tantalize us both, his cock teasing the main event as he kept his dark, lust-filled expression on mine.

“Do it now,” I whispered, licking my lips. “Do it now, and don’t be gentle.” My own words surprised me, but the weeks of missing him combined with the thrill of watching his body meet mine over and over again made me feel wanton.

The sound he made was enough to catapult me right back to the precipice of no return, and when he thrust into me I cried out, loudly and unrestrained, head bowed in concentration. I focused on every muscle, sinking forward against the dresser so that he could slide deeper.

“Look at us,” Jamie rasped, one of his hands gliding up my back and into my hair. He tugged – only enough to get my attention – and I raised my head, opening bleary eyes.

The dresser was short enough that I could see his hand at my hip, could see the way his thighs rippled each time he thrust into me. When I looked higher, the sight of us (me, bent over the wooden furniture, Jamie standing tall behind me and biting his bottom lip in an effort not to spill too quickly) was enough to make my body feel as if it’d gone into a free-fall. I felt my belly tighten and then, as quickly as my next breath, the pleasure was too much. I cried out again, head bowing as my hands grasped feebly at the wood beneath me. I felt Jamie thrust desperately out of rhythm three, four more times before withdrawing, warmth spilling onto my hip.

I couldn’t remember how long I laid splayed across the furniture, unable to move, but as Jamie reached down for the tissue box on the floor, I inhaled deeply and finally raised my head. Curls masked my view of Jamie delicately wiping my skin clean, and by the time I’d situated myself, he’d finished, tossing the tissue away and pulling me back against his chest.

“That was worth the wait, aye?” he asked, voice full of mischief as our eyes met once more in the mirror.

“You did promise to never make me wait long,” I practically purred, pulling away in order to make my way to the bed. I stretched out on my side, a hand reaching out to him. “And I would wait for you. Always.”

Taking my offered hand, Jamie moved closer and kissed my wrist before laying down beside me, propped on his side and facing me.

“When we’re together again, we want to travel, see the world, still?” he pondered as his fingers teased stubborn ringlets.

“That’s the plan, as far as I know. Why, have you changed your mind?” I was idly tracing random figure-eight patterns along his side as we spoke.

“No. No, Sassenach, I havena changed my mind. Well, no’ about that, exactly.” He paused, in a way I knew meant he was serious about what he wanted to say.

“It’s alright,” I prompted gently. “What did you change your mind about?”

Jamie sat up now, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Going home over the holidays, to Lallybroch.”

His words lingered as I tried to process what he was saying. “... At all, you mean?”

He nodded, looking at me. “Aye. Perhaps coming to see ye here, but–” he paused, and I tried not to panic.

“My cousin Jared is traveling to Singapore and wants me to mind his business while he’s away. Me! He said I have a good way wi’ numbers and he trusts me. It would mean I couldna be gone an entire month, but I could still come for a weekend.”

I tried to mask my disappointment at the idea of not spending Christmas at Lallybroch, and at the larger fact that instead of three and a half glorious weeks together before the second semester, our time had been reduced to a handful of days. As usual, my face betrayed me.

“I ken ye’re disappointed, Claire.” One large palm cradled my face, his thumb slowly gliding across the apple of my cheek. “But to make more money for us – ‘tis too good of an opportunity to turn down.”

Jamie sounded excited, proud, and I knew it meant a great deal to him, to be trusted this way by Jared. Something clicked then, and I thought back to our expensive dinner. “You started working for him early, didn’t you?”

Of course, he had; he never made it a secret that he wanted to work hard to build a life for us. Reaching out for his hand, I twined our fingers together. “Does that mean between now and Christmas, we won’t see one another for extended visits?” I hated the idea of only seeing him snatches at a time, but stopped short of saying so.

“Would ye be angry wi’ me?” he questioned tentatively, thumb grazing the mound of my palm.

I gave the question considerable thought. How could I hate him for already investing in our future together?

“Will you write more often then? And call?”

He relaxed beside me, slipping back down on the bed to pull me into his arms. “I’ll mind the rules and call ye before curfew begins every Sunday evenin’,” he promised. “And write twice a week.”

“I suppose that’s enough,” I teased, reaching out to drag my fingers along his jaw. “You told me we have hundreds of thousands of days left. And I will still see you.” Just not for as long as I’d have liked. “Perhaps I’ll visit Lamb the rest of the time, wherever he happens to be in the world for the break.” Currently, it was Morocco, though I decided to ask Gillian what she was doing for the break as well.

“Are ye sure ye’re no’ upset at the change of plans?” he asked, almost sounding nervous.

Carefully, I pushed him onto his back, straddling him before taking both his hands in mine. I threaded our fingers together so that we were palm to palm and begin a slow, unhurried rock against him. The intent was there, and it would take time, I knew, but not long for him.

“I can’t wait to spend every day with you just like this,” I breathed, guiding one of his hands to a breast. “But I can handle postponing it. You’re doing something for us, Jamie. How could I ever be upset over that?”

Reaching out, he tugged me down into a kiss, and this time our lovemaking was slow when we tangled together. Jamie had hopes and dreams for us, and he whispered them against my ear as our bodies moved effortlessly into one another. Endless days of holding one another, a home filled with our laughter – the pretty picture he painted made possible because he refused to turn down the chance to prove himself a hard worker.

This time, after we fell apart together, we dozed until I awoke desperately thirsty. Quietly and carefully, I moved out of bed, walking naked to the other side of the room and helping myself to a glass of water. From his window, the view to the street below showed people walking in a light drizzle, hurrying home as the hour grew later and the weather less pleasant. I was so lost in my thoughts (wondering if it would be too hectic to try and visit Jamie next month) that I didn’t hear him until he was right behind me.

Before I could turn to look at him, his arms moved and he was draping a pearl necklace over my head. They fell just below my breasts, and I raised the end of the strand to examine them, suddenly unable to catch my breath.

“Jamie, these–”

“Are Scotch pearls,” he gently interrupted, and I turned to look at him quickly, bewildered to be given such a sentimental item. I was too stunned to speak, prompting Jamie to continue. “They belonged to my mother. Now, they belong to the woman I intend to marry.” He paused, tilting my chin up with one finger.

I finally found my voice, though it was hushed, as if we were speaking of a holy object. “Why would you give something so valuable to me?” My voice broke just a little at the end, and he kissed my forehead, lips lingering for a few heartbeats.

“They’re one of the few things I have left of her, and verra precious to me. As are you, Claire.”

The way he said my name, as if the word itself were the answer to a prayer, was enough to draw me out of any lingering stupor. Stepping closer, I pressed my lips to his shoulder before nuzzling his skin. “They’re beautiful, Jamie.”

His head ducked so that his nose could glide along my temple. “Have I done well for your first birthday wi’ me?”

I laughed, the sound more watery than I anticipated, so I nodded. “Better than well.” I raised up on my tiptoes so that my mouth could graze his, fingers resting at the side of his neck.

“Let me thank you properly.”

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