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
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
“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
“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
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
Your hair is silver-gilt and your skin is white velvet. Calman geal.
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
I pressed firmly back against him.
“You won’t hurt me.”
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 RollingStone 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
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
“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
“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
Well. Was it always like this? she
“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
“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
But let these words and actions show
To help you see, give me a chance
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
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.
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:
me not to get on your bad side, Sassenach.”
sighed heavily, the weight of our world consuming me, “You be careful.”
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
placed each hand on his cheeks, his eyes opening slowly, fixing on me as he
made love to my body.
wiped my tears, “Please, dinna cry. I canna bear it.”
not sad, Jamie. Just stay in my arms forever, and I will never be sad.”
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.”
continued his slow movement, sheathing himself with my body.
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.”
shook my head out of disbelief, then nodded. “I will be there.”
he smiled, genuinely. “Now, can I move quicker inside ya, Sassenach, my balls
ache somethin fierce.”
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.
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
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
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.
tha again, Sassenach,” he sighed urgently.
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
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.
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.
pulled back, but stayed protected within my embrace. His forehead fell to mine.
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.”
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.
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.
Jasmine and Jafar talking about tigers, suitors, and…fish-fuckers?
Ja'far returns to the Palace to welcome a very important visiting Prince from the land of Pik-zahr, but wait! Isn’t the Princess known to sick tigers on visiting Princes?! I really hope you haven’t goofed this one up, Ja'far!