*jamie

Originally posted by sassenach4life

The previous night…

I put my mouth on Jamie’s nipple, flicking it lightly with my tongue. He made a small sound deep in his throat and pulled me nearer. “Open your legs,” he whispered. “I mean to be sure you’ll remember me while I’m gone.”

Sometime later, I woke feeling cold. Groping sleepily for the quilt, I couldn’t find it. Suddenly it came up over me of its own accord. Surprised, I raised up on one elbow to look. “I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I didna mean to wake ye, lass.” “What are you doing? Why are you awake?” I squinted over my shoulder at him.

It was still dark, but my eyes were so accustomed that I could see the faintly sheepish expression on his face. He was wide awake, sitting on a stool by the side of the bed, his plaid flung around him for warmth. “It’s only…well, I dreamed you were lost, and I couldna find ye. It woke me, and…I wanted to look at ye, is all. To fix ye in my mind, to remember while I’m gone. I turned back the quilt; I’m sorry you were chilled.”

“It’s all right.”

The night was cold, and very quiet, as though we were the only two souls in the world. “Come into bed. You must be chilled too.” He slid in next to me and curled himself against my back. His hands stroked me from neck to shoulder, waist to hip, tracing the lines of my back, the curves of my body. “Mo duinne,” he said softly. “But now I should say mo airgeadach. My silver one. Your hair is silver-gilt and your skin is white velvet. Calman geal. White dove.”

I pressed my hips back against him, inviting, and settled against him with a sigh as his solid hardness filled me. He held me against his chest and moved with me, slowly, deeply. I gasped a little and he slackened his hold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didna mean to hurt ye. But I do want to be in you, to stay in you, so deep. I want to leave the feel of me deep inside ye with my seed. I want to hold ye so and stay wi’ you ’til dawn, and leave you sleeping and go, with the shapes of you warm in my hands.”

I pressed firmly back against him. “You won’t hurt me.”

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 5

There was a short line of people standing outside Duke’s, waiting for their turn to go in. Claire, arms crossed, went up to the security guard holding a clipboard.

“Are you on the list?” he barked.

“Um, Claire Beauchamp?” 

“Oh.” His gruff demeanor changed instantly. “Says ‘ere you’re VIP.” He pulled a lanyard with blue tags dangling that read DUKE’S. “Go on in. Ask for Duncan at the bar.”

“Thanks.” Claire slipped the pass over her head and walked into the pulsing, smoky darkness.

Everyone inside looked like they’d stepped out of Rolling Stone or something, Claire thought. She was glad for once she’d listened to Geillis’s advice and dressed up a little for the occasion; she was wearing makeup on her normally pale face and wild curls, a short blue dress with heels – and the black biker jacket Mary her co-worker had lent her to match a certain red-haired singer.

She walked up to the bar. The only bartender on duty could only be Duncan. As she approached, he noticed the VIP pass and immediately gave her a glass of champagne, directing her backstage. “To the green room, love!” he shouted over the din.

Claire was still unsure about this. And this, exactly, was whatever she wanted it to be. Wasn’t that what he had said? For now, he was a friend. And friends could see other friends and support each other at events like this. As much as she – and Rupert – would have liked Geillis to be there, a seven hour drive from Edinburgh and a hectic work schedule was not feasible.

Down a darkened hallway hidden behind a black curtain by the bar, Claire reached a door marked for performers. Boisterous laughter could be heard on the other side, and Claire wondered which was Jamie’s. For courage, she downed the champagne all at once, bubbles fizzing in her mouth. Thinking perhaps they wouldn’t hear her knocking, she decided to turn the knob and walk in.

A group of faces turned to stare, but she only had eyes for one. Towering over most, Jamie’s gaze found hers and a blinding smile widened on his face. Pushing through the crowd sitting on chairs and sofas, he met her at the door.

“You’re here!” Jamie leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. Claire was enveloped in the warmth of his scent – spice, citrus, and honey all at once. Resisting the urge to wrap her arms around him, she merely smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

“How are you, Jamie? Nervous?”

“A wee bit.” He grinned. “The day I dinna get the cramp in my wame, I’ll ken ‘tis time to retire.” 

“Makes sense,” Claire laughed.

“Here, let me introduce ye.” Jamie took her hand (with only a minor jolt) and pushed past the throng. Composed of band members and a few random girls, the rest were close friends of Hugh Munro’s, who enjoyed the perks of knowing the owner. 

Claire was greeted cheerfully by Willie, Ian, and Rupert, who pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. She solemnly promised him to bring Geillis next time, regardless of work schedules. All the while introductions were made, Jamie did not let go of her hand. And neither did she.

Lastly, they approached a taciturn man who stood off by himself behind the chairs. He nursed a beer, and only raised an eyebrow as Jamie advanced closer, Claire in tow.  

“Claire, this is Murtagh, my uncle and our manager. Murtagh, this is Claire, whom I told ye all about.” A faint pink tinged his ears and the back of his neck. Again, he rifled his hand through the red tresses, embarrassed.

She stuck out her hand and was surprised by the firm grip, which held hers for a second longer than normal before he took a swig of beer.

“Mmphm. Ye’ll be the Sassenach lassie then. Yon lad hasnae shut up about ye since Edinburgh.” A thick Scots accent permeated his words, mumbled barely audibly. Claire strained to catch the tone of them, but they lacked any sort of discernible emotion.

Sassenach?” Claire peeked at Jamie, who turned even redder.

“It only means English, to a Scot. Uncle?” Jamie nudged Murtagh, who shook his head.

“Aye, no offense, lass. ‘Tis only he’s never dated an Englishwoman before. French fer sure, mebbe a Lowlander here and there.” He winked at Jamie, who covered his face in despair.

“Really? Well now, that’s interesting. Tell me more.” Claire winked back at Murtagh, who seemed on the verge of smiling.

“Nay. That’s enough. Thank ye, Uncle.” Jamie steered Claire away with a broad hand on her shoulder. She turned back to Murtagh one last time. 

“A pleasure, Murtagh!” The man raised his beer briefly in acknowledgement. She could clearly see that he was protective of his nephew, and liked him for it. 

At the back of the room stood a long table, crammed with platters of finger food. Squeezed in were bottles and bottles of whiskey. Claire could glimpse Laphroaig, Glenfiddich, Macallan, Glenlivet, and the odd bottle of Chivas and Johnnie Walker. Jamie insisted on exchanging her empty champagne glass with the whiskey , which she took neat.

Sláinte!” Jamie clinked her glass, and poured the liquor straight down his throat. Claire followed suit, grimacing a bit at the peaty taste and shivering as the heat of the whiskey lit her insides.

They stood side by side, watching the men interact with a group of girls. They didn’t look older than 25, some of them, Claire noted wryly. A few cast furtive glances at the corner where Jamie and Claire were standing, smiling when they looked at him, frowning openly at her. Claire tried not to care; she reminded herself that Jamie was after all famous, and it was only natural that they wanted to capture his attention. Finally, a girl gathered her courage enough to walk over and introduce herself to Jamie.

Hiiiii,” the girl tittered, flipping her long blonde hair and briefly touching Jamie’s arm. “I’m Malva. How are you?” She smirked, and slid sideways casually to block Claire completely from sight.

“Hello, Malva. Nice to meet ye. Who are ye with tonight?” Jamie offered a polite smile, used to fan encounters.

“Oh, I’m here with friends. Can’t wait for your set tonight. Which is your favorite song?” Malva sidled closer, and Claire was forced to take a step back, nearly knocking over some whiskey bottles.

“Och, weel, I like them all, I guess. Bad if I didn’t, eh?” Jamie reached out a hand behind Malva, and pulled Claire gently into his side. “This is a friend of mine, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Hello.” Claire felt the words stick in her throat. The back of her neck felt alternately cold and hot and prickly.

“Hey.” Malva’s stare was anything but friendly. If looks could kill, Claire thought briefly. She felt the momentary urge to nuzzle into Jamie’s neck, maybe plant a kiss or two there, marking him as hers.

Oh wait. Am I… jealous of her?

Claire dismissed the idea and tried to smile at the girl. She was only a fan, after all. Malva did not return her gesture and just flipped her hair again, hoping for Jamie’s attention.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Good luck with the show.” Malva let the tip of her tongue trail over her lips suggestively. Claire fought the impulse to scratch her eyes out and let her instincts take over, wrapping her arm around Jamie. Surprised, he glanced down at her, and smiled briefly at Claire.

“Thank ye. Hope ye enjoy it.”

Malva sauntered off, moving her hips in a really obvious way that made her look mostly ridiculous. Angus seemed willing to deal with her, and Claire breathed easier for the first time in minutes. 

Well. Was it always like this? she wondered.

“It isnae always like this, ye ken,” Jamie said.

Claire, startled, cursed her glass face again. “Like this what?”

“The fans. Some are pushier, or even grabbier, than others. Mainly they are respectful, they only want an autograph or picture. A bit of a chat. A hug sometimes. But that’s it.”

“Jamie, you don’t have to explain to me. I’m not—”

“Och, yer face looked like bloody murder fer a second there. I promise, I’d never dally with a fan like that. ‘Twouldna be right.”

“What about me?” Claire asked with a smile. 

“Ah, weel, ye said so yerself. Ye didna ken who we were to start with.”

 ______________________________________________________________________

The concert was phenomenal. Close to two hundred people crowded near the stage, clapping, and singing along. The surprise performance had gone over spectacularly, the patrons raising the roof when The Clan was announced.

Murtagh had led her to stage left, where Claire had stood mesmerized by the show, and by Jamie in particular. He was great at what he did, playing off the audience and  gauging their mood and seeming to know just when to kick it up a notch. The band had them all riled up since the beginning, playing upbeat songs that had everyone, Claire included, dancing in their spots.

Finally, as the hour grew late, the songs grew mellower. Claire swayed on her feet, head keeping time with the rhythm. Every once in a while, Jamie would turn to look at her and smile. Finally, close to one in the morning, Jamie pulled up a stool and took up his acoustic guitar. The crowd quieted down a bit to listen.

“Now fer a new song, written verra recently. This one goes out to the girl with whiskey eyes.”

Despite the screaming of a few girls who no doubt thought the song was for them, Claire felt her heart quicken and her palms tingle. He had once told her she was “bonny, with eyes like whiskey.” Was this song meant for her?

Jamie strummed his guitar, caressing the mike in a way that was only his.


I know you’re hurting

You know better than anyone

It’s hard to let your heart trust

But this is real

 

I’m here for you

Good times and bad

This isn’t an ending

Only the beginning of something

 

I promise I will wait

As long as it takes

Because your heart is worth it

 

Feelings unknown

But let these words and actions show

To help you see, give me a chance

And so—

I promise I will wait

As long as it takes

Because your heart is worth it


Claire’s cheeks flushed; she held her hands up to her face, trying to contain the heat. She looked around, but she was alone in the dark, staring out at the blue-lit stage where Jamie was calling out to her. Time ceased to matter; what she thought she ought to do or feel was irrelevant. It seemed like everyone would read it on her damned glass face.

As Claire realized herself in that moment, in the space of a ¾ tempo, her heart had decided of its own volition to tumble over the abyss and into those feelings unknown.

J/C Fic - 

Set right at the close of this scene in S02E12

Personal Disclaimer: If you want to follow me after reading this, know that I am a shipper, and proud to be here. The only time I jump ship, is for a quick skinny dip into the warm waters. I mostly write S/C - very smutty - fic, which can be found: 

http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze


To Grieve for that Which Has Yet to be Lost


“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Sassenach.”

I sighed heavily, the weight of our world consuming me, “You be careful.”

He kissed me then, his lips, warm and cracked from the wind, lingered longer than he intended. I felt the pain and anger, the hurt and fear, all melt into Jamie’s palm as he held my face, his smile against my lips, warming my tired and achy body.  I felt my arms float up, to wrap around his neck, my feet, high on their toes, pulled him in close. Jamie made a soft sound, low in his throat. A mix of apprehensive, with so much going on, but a desire to seize the moment. This one glimmer of a second we had to ourselves. To feel like husband and wife. Man, and woman.

Thought gave way to desire, and desire succumbed to need, falling to its knees in submission. Jamie lifted me to the table in the centre of the room. My legs, too heavy and thick from my clothes to circle his thighs, simply dangled above the wooden floor, as he ushered us over. He rested me atop the table, our lips never parting. I struggled to remove his clothes, desperate for his skin on mine. With the weather, all the men around us, and this bloody war, the moments we had, were always stolen. Never given to us freely, but pulled out from under the noses of those in the night, like thieves. When the pressure got too intense to ignore, he would pull me aside, ducking into the forest, or roll over top me in our barely hidden tent. His time inside my body, my body yielding to his, were so rushed and exposed that our minds had little time to catch up to our actions, only acknowledging the passionate kiss, or hard thrust hitting my cervix and stifled cry of pleasure, when it had long since been over.

But now, I didn’t care if the whole damn British army knocked down our door. Whether they stood and watched, or ran us through. My only hope in that case, was that if their sword penetrated Jamie’s back, to pierce his heart, the sword was long enough to strike me through as well. I lived for him, and he for me, and I bloody well planned on taking that trip to heaven or hell, right alongside him.

Our lips divided as I struggled to unknot his neck kerchief. His fingers aided me, our joint efforts fruitful as we flung the small piece of fabric aside. I felt Jamie’s lips touch my neck, sucking and biting, the craving for flesh, instinctive, deep in the marrow of our bones. We shed him of his clothes, the sound of weapons hitting the ground as his kilt fell to the floor.

The moment naked skin exposed itself to the dampness of the room, lips were quick to burn away the chill. My butting body shook the table, the complaints against the wooden floor, drowned in our passionate cries and grunting possession.

I wanted to fall from the table. I wanted to kneel at his feet and worship his manhood, as it stood proud, raised high from his groin, but Jamie stopped me. He pushed me back against the table, my body lying flat, as he shimmied the last of my skirts out from under my bum. He quickly grabbed my arms, hauling me forward, and pulling my shift above my head.

We were free.

Jamie grabbed my behind, his knuckles scraping the wood. I could see his face wince in pain, before he took my lips in his, and pulled me up against him, his cock finding home. Gasps of pleasure parted our lips as we stilled. I cried, out of anger, out of fear and pleasure, and out of a love for the man that belonged nowhere but in my arms and in my body. I rocked forward, urging him deeper, but pulled my head back to watch the emotions play across his face. He felt everything I did. Felt it as deep in his soul as I did mine.

I placed each hand on his cheeks, his eyes opening slowly, fixing on me as he made love to my body.

Jamie wiped my tears, “Please, dinna cry. I canna bear it.”

“I’m not sad, Jamie. Just stay in my arms forever, and I will never be sad.”

He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him. They weakened, and I could see the guards rise up from their restful sleep, holding the tears at bay. “Ah, mo nighean donn, even if you’re no with me, I always feel yer arms around my body.”

He continued his slow movement, sheathing himself with my body.

“If, in my final moment, a man charges toward me, pistol aimed to my breast, he will no bear a red coat and pistol for long. For I will know that is the end, and my eyes will close, and it will be you comin for me, to take me in yer arms. And when they find my body on that soggy moor,” he kissed me softly, his pulse jolting through my lips, before pulling away, “they will find me with the greatest of smiles upon my face.”

I shook my head out of disbelief, then nodded. “I will be there.”

“Good,” he smiled, genuinely. “Now, can I move quicker inside ya, Sassenach, my balls ache somethin fierce.”

I laughed a laugh that carried throughout my whole body, clenching my insides, that saw the most exquisite of looks crease Jamie’s features, before he sped up his movements inside me.

Jamie grunted with each thrust, his eyes, tight in concentration, would flutter open for the briefest of moments, smile at me, then they’d shut again. I grasped at his back, surely adding more scars with my nails to his skin. Jamie bent forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling the flesh of my breast in to join, as much as he could, before he set them free with a pop and moved on to the other. I cried out, holding his face to my body. All thought escaped my mind as he drank from my dried well, but my nipples ached in the most stimulating of ways. A way I thought I had all but forgotten, but the memory flooded my body and I could feel my breast fill with the very thought and hope.

Jamie’s hands rounded my buttocks, pulling me tight against him as he picked me up, carrying me to the wall, pushing my fiery flesh against the cool frame, the burning fireplace next to us, doing little to fill the room. I arched at the shock, wrapping my legs around his waist, but he paid no attention to my gasp.  He pushed fiercely into my centre, his testicles slapping my body, like a palm hitting still water. He pushed up inside me, each time, my body rising higher and higher against the wall, cutting into my skin. Jamie’s position reached the parts of me that only he had the skill of reaching each time, with our lovemaking.

I reached between our bodies, tickling and tugging the wiry bits of hair I could feel above his cock. I jutted a finger out, grazing his pink flesh each time he pulled free of my body. Jamie gasped, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Do tha again, Sassenach,” he sighed urgently.

I could feel his saliva against my shoulder as his pace quickened. I did it again. Scraped my nail along his penis. He groaned, and pushed back in. Then out. I scraped it once more. We sang the song a few times before finally, he pulled out, lingering in the open air, with only the tip keeping my lips open for him. My fingers wrapping around him completely. I held his head close to my shoulder with my free hand, and with a sudden squeeze, I let go of his penis, and he plunged back in me with finality, calling out words in Gaelic I had never heard him say before. He filled my body, his warm semen splashing my insides and coating me in all he had to give. I was right behind him, my orgasm coursing through me angrily as Jamie moved a hand to my breast, pinching a nipple.

Our labored breath was the only proof of life, as we curled into each other against the wall. The dank room emerged around us once more, letting its cool air spear our skin, leaving gooseflesh in its violent wake.  I felt him shiver, and pulled him in closer.

“We should get dressed.” I loathed saying the words. I wanted my vocal chords ripped from my body before they could escape my mouth, but some things cannot be put off.

Jamie pulled back, but stayed protected within my embrace. His forehead fell to mine.

“See, Sassenach. It doesna matter what tomorrow brings. I’ll always be here. In your arms. You’ll always be a part of me, and I, you.”

Jamie kissed my forehead, then pulled free, making for our scattered clothes tossed about the floor. I watched him pick up my garments first. It was always his way. It didn’t matter if chills racked his body, he’d make sure I was safe and warm first. I was always first in his mind.

“Always with me,” I whispered back, as my abandoned arms fell, my hand falling to my stomach,palm pressed hard to my belly, knowing, and weeping inside.

Making up for Missed Birthdays

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from A Fortress of Bedsheets

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

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