blazing chamber

BELATED (sorry) Rebel Outtake. Valentine’s Special.

SRSLY. ILY guys. I’m *so* sorry. I did mean to post this yesterday, I promise. I will do a Port outtake for those who wanted it too, but I had my first masters essay results back and I helped with a school show so I was snowed under and it was too late once I realised that I hadn’t queued anything. I will post the Noir chapter tomorrow, this I promise you. ANYWAY. Enjoy this you beautiful people. Hold on tight, we’ve got to keep this up until SEPTEMBER…MWAH.

She woke to the sounds of torrential rain battering off the window, it was still dark outside but she lay peacefully in Jamie’s arms. It had been one of the first nights she’d slept so long without bad dreams, their first night together as man and wife, but the noise had pulled her from slumber.

Unable to coax herself back to sleep she rose and padded quietly out of their rooms. The sheets of rain covered the entrance to the tap house. Reaching her hand out, she watched as droplets soaked her exposed skin. Almost without thinking she stepped fully outside, walking unconsciously towards the trees –her face tipped up at the sky. Within seconds she was drenched, her shift clinging to every inch of her as she smiled and twirled around, getting lost in the moment. Darkness shielding her, she felt finally free. 

Every so often the wind would change direction and the rain would lash her from another side, it was freezing but soothing in a way she’d never imagined. Smiling lightly, she squeezed her eyes shut, letting the downpour coat her face, tiny rivulets of water running along her partially opened lips.

Jamie awoke to find their bed empty. He was up in a moment, his eyes darting around their bedchamber in the hopes of finding her curled up somewhere. In a momentary panic he grabbed his tartan and rushed for the door. Where could she be? He hadn’t felt her stir which he found odd, surely she hadn’t been having a nightmare, he was sure he’d have known. 

Taking the steps down to the tavern two at a time, he barely stopped to notice that a few late stragglers had congregated around the small window, looking out onto the front porch. He reached the door and peered out into the deluge. His eyes were wide as saucers as he watched her dance in the rain. She looked truly magnificent, but she was also incredibly under-dressed. Claire stood with her back to him, a fortunate coincidence considering the drunken patrons were also peeking out at her. Finally, noticing her audience, he quickly rushed out into the downpour.

“Are ye mad lass!” He hollered into the thick moist mist. “Ye’ve naught but yer shift on!” He thrust himself in front of her, pulling her against his now soaked night shirt as if to shield her from the stares of the drunks hiding in the inn.

Turning her head up, she caught his gaze and smiled, licking the water from her lips. Shaking her head, her eyes twinkled in the dim evening light, her lashes covered in tiny droplets making her look even more angelic than usual.

He was captivated.

“Mad? No. There’s nobody about here to worry me.” She reached up to run her hands through his sodden locks as she tugged his face down. “I just couldn’t…stop.”

He bent his head further down, closer to her lips before avoiding them completely. “Och, aye. There is. Yon Welsh drunkards are having a wee keek at ye, and I dinna think they’re too fond of me having ruined their view, ken?”  

“Oh? And what view did they have before you so ungraciously stood in their way?” She was teasing him, her voice low and raspy.

“Ye ken fair well what, Claire.” He answered, keeping his tone light –even though he wasn’t disposed to sharing his new wife with half of this tiny village. “Yer gown isna leaving much to the imagination, and they’re having a good wee gossip about you and I.”

“Why would they wonder about us?” She’d cocked her head to the side now, allowing Jamie to run his nose along the underside of her chin as she danced her fingers over the back of his neck.

His tongue lapped at the water droplets which had gathered along her neck as he made his way up to her earlobe. He nipped at her before whispering so softly, “They want to ken what ye look like –when I take ye.” She gasped and pulled him harder against her. “But that’s for me only, my Claire.”

“W-what do they think, tell me.”

“They think I’d be rough wi’ ye. That I look like a brute. When we came here they thought I’d stolen ye away, that ye were my prisoner. They dinna think that now, o’ course, but they’re still a wee bit afeared of me.”

Claire scoffed. “How little they know you, Jamie.” She sighed softly, taking his hand and placing it gently over her breast, her back arched so his palm wrapped fully around her. “If only they could see how loving you are, how careful.”

“Aye. But I dinna wish to. Let them think it. Only I wish to see ye like that, a ghràdh.”

“Then take me somewhere private, Jamie. Please.” The rain clung to her lashes, dripping steadily down her face as she looked up at him coquettishly. His hand ran circles over her soaked breast as he nodded and took her hand, leading her off deeper into the forest.

They quickly came across an outcrop of rock buried deep in the trees to the left of the tavern, not too far from the rough path from which they’d come. The rain had slicked the surface so it sparkled in the late evening light. Claire walked backwards until her back hit and then bid Jamie forward, her fingers curling in a come hither motion. His eyes were wide as he approached, the water shining in her thick curls, the material of her shift pulled right across her chest. He could see every glorious inch of her.

“I want you, Jamie Fraser. Here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, stepping forward he had her in his arms before she could blink, the rain on their faces mingling as he kissed her thoroughly.

“My wife, my Claire. I’ll take ye, dinna fret.” He groaned, pushing himself flush against her, feeling her damp thighs encircle him. “I dinna wish to hurt yer back, ye have t’ tell me if I do, aye?” He whispered, making sure she’d safely leaned against the firm rock face before shifting his kilt aside.

“You won’t, Jamie. I know it. Just don’t stop, please.” She begged, her feet resting solidly against the jagged grit that had been softened by the storm. She didn’t care about her surroundings, wanting only to feel Jamie inside her.

No sooner had she thought it, than she got her wish. He tugged and tore her shift and thrust his hips upwards.

“Oh, God!”

“Ah, Dhia!”

They cried out, together, as he sunk deep inside her, completely forgetting about the pouring rain gushing around them.

Jamie buried his face against Claire’s neck as he held her close and moved gently against her, eager not to scratch her scars open, but determined to fulfill her wishes. The raindrops tickled his nose as he ran his lips along the length of her chin and up, capturing her mouth against his and quieting her moans.

It was of no matter, though. Every sound was swallowed by the intense weather.

Although she knew she should be cold, every inch of her was filled with an incredible warmth. Claire couldn’t get enough, needing Jamie closer; faster; harder. Shakily, she locked her right hand in his hair whilst pulling the top of her shift aside with the left. She needed to be free of her clothing; needed to feel him –skin on skin.

Sensing her desire, Jamie levered himself far enough away so that she could remove his shirt. She watched in awe as the fowl weather soaked his skin in moments, her hooded lids tracing the length of his torso as the droplets coated him.

He was truly magnificent. Broad shouldered and strong, the tops of his arms muscular from wielding his sword. But his strength was deceptive. He worshiped her reverently, making sure he kept his full weight from her, touching her with the utmost care. She basked in it, using what power she had to draw him to her.

She bewitched him, and he didn’t mind admitting it.

Thunder rolled overhead as they came together once more, lightning flashing through the skies. The canopy of trees that surrounded them sparked and dimmed, the rumbles rocketing through the floor and through the both of them as they held each other steady.

He could feel himself drawing near, the familiar sensation of overwrought lust pulsing through every inch of his stimulated body as he took her.

Claire was in a similar state, the almost constant echo of thunder caused her to shake as she undulated her hips, her bottom lifting from the rock face as she did so. Her thighs trembled, the force of holding her up in such abysmal conditions finally started to tire her aching muscles.

“Let go, Claire. Come to me, please.’ Jamie moaned, his tongue sweeping across her soaked lips as she snuck hers out to meet him.

She couldn’t hold back, and as he bucked more forcefully against her, she shattered. Calling out his name as she clawed at his exposed back, flopping soundlessly against him as he cried out and joined her.

Cocooned as she was, against his chest, she had barely noticed him tense and still. But as the storm calmed, and the rain eased, the drenched lovers began to surface once more.

“Yer shivering, mo nighean. We need to get ye back inside, where I can warm ye properly.” Jamie whispered, gathering her up in his arms, his hands thrust underneath her legs as he turned for the tavern. In his haste, he forgot his shirt, and he trudged, half nude, back towards shelter.

Kissing him softly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and dozily ran her lips along the expanse of his neck, closing her eyes to the few onlookers who were still milling about by the taproom. Jamie turned his back on them as soon as he was able, shielding her, once more, from view as he carried her to their rooms.

Blessedly the fire was still blazing, keeping the chamber at a wonderful temperature. As soon as he’d placed her down, Claire fully removed her shift before entwining her fingers in the loops of Jamie’s belt.

“I think ye need to sleep now, Claire, aye?”

“No.” She returned, her jaw stubbornly set, “I’ve had enough rest, Jamie. I just want you. Come, you can warm me just fine.”

Chuckling, he allowed her to disrobe him and followed with no more argument as she pulled the sheets aside and tugged him down over her.

He wasn’t capable of laying with her, just yet. But as the wind began to rise once more, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him toward her, anchoring him. There, hovering above her, he opened his eyes. The heat from the fire had evaporated the remaining water from her skin, leaving her with a wee red glow. Her hair was still damp, but her glorious curls had spread, loosely, over the pillow and had fanned out in a beautiful layer around her head.

She looked so amazing, her eyes half closed, her mouth parted as she waited for him to come back to her.

“Oh how I love ye, Claire Fraser. So verra much.”

Leaning down, he took her nipple in his mouth and began to suck, tenderly, against her newly dried skin. Her legs slipped along the sheets and lay, fully open against the mattress as she writhed beneath him, arching her shoulders upwards and holding him as close as she was able.

“I l-love…” she sighed, stopping as he dragged his teeth against her, “Christ, Jamie, I love you.”

“Aye.” He murmured, licking a path from one breast to another, “now, dinna fash anymore, Claire. Just let me make ye feel good.”

Her body rolled, her hips jaggedly rising to generate any friction she could as he covered her in nips, drawing patterns against her flushed flesh. Blackness invaded her vision as he brought her to the brink, over and over again. The only sounds, now, the lashing of the rain against the thin glass panes of the windows as Claire fell, silently, into oblivion.

Jamie panted, his ribs aching from it, his arms flexing as the muscles protested. He’d held himself over her for as long as he could, making sure she’d fallen into a deep enough sleep. When he was sure she had, he pushed himself up and pulled the clean plaid blanket back over her, crawling over to the other side and wrapping himself around her.

“Rest well, mo bhean bhòidheach, for tomorrow will be a long day.” He whispered, sweeping the stray curls from her forehead as she shimmied around and curled herself towards him, seeking him out even in slumber.

They lay nose to nose as Jamie eventually closed his eyes, joining her. Their hands joined as their dreams surrounded them, their fingers twitching against one another as the storm ebbed and the clouds began to part.

Outside, on the window ledge, a lone robin began to chirp. His wee red breast aglow in the dim dawn light. Shaking himself off, the tiny drops splattered against the glass, the pitter patter of the moisture the only sound in the quiet of the new day. He fluttered his now dry wings, flashed his minute black eyes in the direction of the sleeping lovers and flew off into the forest, leaving the world still in his wake.

anonymous asked:

Yay! Thank you!! Perhaps these may trigger some ideas: Dimples Queen (Reunion or Bandit Outlaw verse or Missing Year) / Regina falling ill or getting hurt / Robin's protective streak

The countless hours spent at Roland’s sickbed see his boy fast improving—only for his royal caretaker to be stricken down by the malady instead.

It’s just a cold, the Queen scoffs at princess Snow’s concerned query, the perpetual coat of sarcasm doing nothing whatsoever to cover the unusual nasality of her voice. She hides her sniffing behind vocal displeasure, masks the rough soreness burning in her throat by addressing every topic in a low, threatening tone. The symptoms she’s entirely unwilling to take seriously, however, get the best of her in the end.

She’s not in the dining hall at breakfast, nor does she show up for the customary council meeting. But it’s when she misses her playdate with Roland that worry truly worms itself into Robin’s heart, and that’s when he decides he’ll gladly risk bringing her wrath down upon himself if it means knowing she’s safe and unharmed.

Only she’s not.

Robin discovers her crumpled on the cold marble floor of her chambers in a heap of velvet and brocade—and a corset so tight it’s a bloody miracle that, combined with her blocked nose and throat, she hasn’t yet suffocated to death. Stubborn, impractical woman. He works to unfasten the laces of the offending garment, her rattling breath a blessed sound at least amid skin hot and flushed with the fever burning her up. She doesn’t stir when he gathers her in his arms and deposits her on the bed with utmost care, hellbent on nursing her back to health no matter how many death glares he’ll have to endure as payment.


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