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.

4

Mo duinne?” I asked […]

“It means ‘my brown one.’ ” He raised a lock of hair to his lips and smiled, with a look in his eyes that started all the drops of my own blood chasing each other through my veins. “Mo duinne,” he repeated, softly. “I have been longing to say that to you.”

“Rather a dull color, brown, I’ve always thought,” I said practically, trying to delay things a bit. I kept having the feeling of being whirled along much faster than I intended. 

Jamie shook his head, still smiling

“No, I’d not say that, Sassenach. Not dull at all.” He lifted the mass of my hair with both hands and fanned it out. “It’s like the water in a burn, where it ruffles over the stones. Dark in the wavy spots, with bits of silver on the surface where the sun catches it.”

Nervous and a little breathless, I pulled away in order to pick up the comb I had dropped on the floor. I came up to find Jamie eyeing me steadily.

1.07 The Wedding

6

25 Days of Outlander - Day 4 / Favourite Line Directly from the Book 
‘I will find you,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I promise. If I must endure two hundred years of purgatory, two hundred years without you – then that is my punishment, which I have earned for my crimes. For I have lied, and killed, and stolen; betrayed and broken trust. But there is the one thing that shall lie in the balance. When I shall stand before God, I shall have one thing to say, to weigh against the rest.’
      His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper, and his arms tightened around me.
      ‘Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.’
(Timor Mortis Conturbat Me, Dragonfly in Amber)

2

“I know there are things ye’d not wish to tell me, Claire. Perhaps things that ye can’t tell me.” 

You don’t know just how right you are, I thought. 

“I’ll not press you, ever, or insist on knowin’ things that are your own concern,” he said seriously. He looked down at his hands, now pressed together, palm to palm.

“There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I’ll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye— when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I’ll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save— respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?” He spread his hands out, palms up, inviting me. I could see the dark line of the blood vow across his wrist. I placed my own hands lightly on his palms. 

“Yes, I agree. I’ll give you honesty.” His fingers closed lightly about mine.

“And I shall give ye the same. Now,” he drew a deep breath, “you asked why I wed ye.”

“I am just the slightest bit curious,” I said. 

He smiled, the wide mouth taking up the humor that lurked in his eyes. “Well, I canna say I blame ye. I had several reasons. And in fact, there’s one— maybe two— that I canna tell ye yet, though I will in time. The main reason, though, is the same reason you wed me, I imagine; to keep ye safe from the hands of Jack Randall.” 

I shuddered a bit, at the memory of the Captain, and Jamie’s hands tightened on mine. 

“You are safe,” he said firmly. “You have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well. The man willna lay hands on ye again, while I live.” 

“Thank you,” I said. Looking at that strong, young, determined face, with its broad cheekbones and solid jaw, I felt for the first time that this preposterous scheme of Dougal’s might actually have been a reasonable suggestion. 

The protection of my body. The phrase struck with particular impact, looking at him— the resolute set of the wide shoulders and the memory of his graceful ferocity, “showing off” at swordplay in the moonlight. He meant it; and young as he was, he knew what he meant, and bore the scars to prove it. He was no older than many of the pilots and the infantrymen I had nursed, and he knew as well as they the price of commitment. It was no romantic pledge he had made me, but the blunt promise to guard my safety at the cost of his own. I hoped only that I could offer him something in return.

1.07 The Wedding