Y/N snapped, glaring at Jungkook. Her
face red with anger.
Why would he answer her calls? Why would
he say that about her boyfriend?
Jungkook was talking nonsense.
Her boyfriend promised that he wouldn’t
talk to that girl again. He promised her that he would only love her. He gave
her that ring as a proof. Her eyes fell over the ring in her hand. Jungkook
must be mistaken.
She didn’t want to believe what she
feared the most. She couldn’t accept it, whatever everybody said.
“I know it’s not my business, but that
guy is cheating on you.”
“No, he isn’t.” Y/N said, still want to
believe in her boyfriend. In the promise he made to her. “He said he broke up
“What? You knew he is cheating?”
Jungkook’s eyes widened.
In a simpler world,
you would be all snuggled up to your husband, slowly falling asleep in each
other’s warmth, living the life of a perfect marriage. Instead, you’re
impatiently waiting for your ass of a boss to come back home at 1:43 in the
Y/N - Your name, Y/L/N - Your Last Name, Y/B/Y - Your Birth Year
Anonymous Request: Idk if you’re taking in request but i have one of you could possibly do a reader X Bucky ? She has cosmic powers and can show a universe in her hands and one day he was testing her limits and she went back in time to the 40s ?
Bucky looked at the weird item in his hands. It had a bright screen and on
the screen was a picture of Y/N and him. But he looked so different.
“I don’t understand. What is this?” He pushed it back across the table as
if he was scared of it. Y/N sighed, picked it up and then pulled her chair so
she was sitting next to him. She held it up again for him to see and she swiped
through the various pictures she had of the two of them together. She stopped
at one where her head is thrown back laughing and he was sticking his tongue
“It’s you and me Buck. Not now but…… God I know this is going to sound
completely insane, but it is you and me together in the future.”
Once they’d finally managed to get
the last of the paint mopped up and Paris
restored to normal, Ladybug and Chat Noir were more than ready for a little
relaxation. After several hours spent cleaning the area around the akuma battle
while also fielding questions from reporters, Ladybug was in the mood for a
She glanced over at Chat Noir who
looked about as messy as she felt. “Think we can use your bathroom again,
He brightened. “Sounds
purrfect to me.”
“Great. I need to grab a
change of clothes. I’ll meet you there.”
He saluted her and leapt off,
headed for home.
She flew home, slipping in and carefully
avoiding any paint drips on her floor. She gathered her clothes in a small bag
and grabbed one of the bath bombs she’d picked up on impulse the other day.
What better time to use it than after a paint-wielding akuma? She smiled and
flew off to Adrien’s home. He’d left the window open for her, and she landed on
the towel he’d laid out for her to keep his floor clean.
She set the bag down and
detransformed. “Sorry for the mess, Tikki.”
Tikki smiled. “That’s okay,
Marinette. It’s only paint.”
“True.” She chuckled.
“At least it’s not caramel again.” She walked over to the bathroom
and set her bag down. The tub was half-full, and Adrien was leaning over to
check the temperature.
“I’m too tired for a
shower,” he said, glancing back at her. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that sounds great.”
She pulled out the bath bomb and smiled. “In fact, I was hoping you’d
suggest a bath.”
Lena’s heartbeat was racing. She was terrified. Another try on her life and then a flight up to her office with a Super she didn’t even trust.
Supergirl couldn’t blame her, not for her nearly throwing herself from Kara’s arms. Not for wrapping her arms around herself. Not for turning away.
But it broke Kara none the less. Lena tried so hard. To repress everything, her emotions, her reactions… Kara understood it and didn’t at the same time.
She remembered Lena freely offering her touches to Kara Danvers (after a time), how Lena seemed to relax in her arms. How her pulse felt on Kara’s skin.
She was moving before she could think, before she could stop herself. Supergirl wrapped her arms around Lena, turning her so Lena’s arms were pressed into her abdomen.
Lena tensed immediately and pulled against Kara’s hold. Kara held her a little tighter.
“Please, Lena, please. I can hear your heartbeat, you’re terrified. Please, just let me hold you.” Kara whispered into Lena’s hair.
She shouldn’t hold people against their will but Lena was breaking inside. Supergirl swore to protect her body, but Kara was Lena’s friend and she couldn’t be here, in Lena’s office in the middle of the night, as Kara Danvers.
So Supergirl was the only option. Kara couldn’t watch Lena go through this alone.
“Ka-Kara.” Lena’s voice was half an octave lower than usual, tinged with unshed tears. It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration.
To Kara, it sounded a whole hell of a lot like hope.
She stiffened. Kara tried to pull away, tried to distance herself, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t pull away from Lena, not now.
“Lena, I-I.” Kara clenched her jaw. She’d just joined all the people who’d ever lied to Lena. But she couldn’t keep it up here, in the dimly lit office with Lena’s heartbeat still racing against her skin.
Lena’s arms shifted and slipped down to wrap back up to grip the back of Kara’s shoulders. She pressed herself against Kara and a choked noise preluded the sobs that Kara knew were coming.
When was the last time Lena Luthor had cried?
Kara tightened her hold again and rocked gently back and forth. For some reason an old lullaby from her mother came to mind and Kara began to hum.
Lena cried for quite some time and no time at all before she was pulling back from Kara to wipe at her eyes. She smiled a little half-smile and moved her hands to Kara’s elbows.
“So,” Lena cleared her throat and Kara smiled, a little worried, “You source yourself.”
It was an absurd comment and Kara couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Her right hand came to cover her lips because Lena Luthor knew who Supergirl was and this situation shouldn’t be this funny, but it was.
Lena smiled, really smiled this time, and she was accepting Kara. Accepting this odd mixture of Kara Danvers and Supergirl that was Kara Zor-El. Kara couldn’t help it, she wanted to kiss Lena.
But this she would ask permission for, “Lena, can I kiss you?” Lena’d hinted that she would be interested in a date, but there were too many ‘what if’s for Kara to say yes.
What if Lena found out? What if Lena didn’t actually like her, Kara Danvers, and was just putting on a show? What if Lena couldn’t understand the need for secrecy? What if Lena really did hate all Supers?
Lena’s fingers slid up Kara’s arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake, a reaction Kara didn’t even think she could have. Kara’s hand fell from her lips and Lena leaned forward. Kara bent down and they met half way.
There wasn’t a spark, but when Lena closed her eyes and leaned bodily into Kara, it felt like coming home.
Kara slipped her arms back around Lena and squeezed lightly. There was no teeth, no tongue, in this kiss, just the hint of a promise.
Neither wanted to let go, to lean away from this.
Not until a knock came at Lena’s door and Jess walked in.
Walked in to see a Super pulling back from a Luthor with lipstick smeared across her lips. Jess was surprised that Supergirl blushed like a human.
Supergirl turned brought a hand to her lips to try and wipe off some of Lena’s lipstick. Lena turned toward Jess and rubbed her hands down her skirt.
“I just wanted to check on you Ms. Luthor, but I see you’re in good hands.” And maybe Jess would get fired or murdered exceptionally quietly and her body would never be found, but she couldn’t help making the comment anyway.
Because Lena Luthor could blush too.
Lena nodded, “Thank you, Jess.” It sounded pretty strained, even to Lena, so Jess turned without another word and they were alone together, again.
Lena took a breath and Kara turned back around, “So.” Kara blushed harder.
“Is this,” Lena motioned to Kara’s cape and suit, “why you turned down my advances before?”
Kara nodded and shuffled. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with a part-time Super.”
Lena nodded at her words and took a step forward. Kara could see the questions in her eyes, but Lena when Lena opened her mouth, she just it again. With a shake of her head, Lena smiled that half-smile Kara was beginning to love.
“Would you like to go out some time? With me?”
Kara beamed and stepped back over to place another kiss on Lena’s lips. She’d probably never get the lipstick off of herself, “I’d love to.”
I really just needed someone to hug Lena, holy shit.
headcanon- Symmetra likes to take moderately long baths. Junkrat doesn't get the appeal. Or maybe he's wary of water. Symmetra convinces him to join and she washes his hair. He is super touched and enjoys the sensation. He bathes more often now
I headcanon Junkrat as a low-key hydrophobe due to his inability to swim thanks to lost limbs and heavy scrap metal prosthetics. He doesn’t necessarily hate water, but full baths and all of that give him the jitters. Showers are much preferred.
I love the image of them bathing together, though. Symmetra would rinse off the initial soot and grime under the showerhead, and then she’d fill the tub to a moderate level and help him get in. She’d be against the wall with him leaning back against her, his good leg bent and propped against the other end. She would slather his head in shampoo and and comb her hands through through his hair, massaging his scalp in gentle motions and scrubbing behind his ears. Sometimes she slides down and rubs at his neckline, too.
This is far more comforting than he’d imagined. Someone giving him attention like this is so intimate and personal, and he finds himself almost falling asleep as she traces lazy circles through his hair and kneads at the muscles down his neck.
I think massages in general would be pretty great, in all honesty. I could see her rubbing him down after a warm and relaxing bath, working the muscles on his freckled shoulders and slowly moving down the length of his back. After being so wound up and on edge after a tense and stressful mission, decompression is in order.
Junkrat would return the favor, of course. He’d be wary of using his prosthetic, as it’s rough and metal and prone to pinching, so he makes due with his left hand. He has long fingers and an ample palm and she’s smaller in comparison, so it’s not quite as difficult as he anticipates. He does love her contented noises, though. They’re so very soft and quiet, murmured against the sheets, and it occurs to him that he’s never been at a point in his life where this has been normal.
Aelin leaned against the kitchen counter, picking up the fried pieces of chicken directly from the pan and putting it in her mouth. She munched on it, swallowing before taking another. It was intended for Rowan but she had other plans. Better plans for dinner. So once she finished cooking, she quickly started eating it herself before Rowan could see that she had actually cooked something.
Aelin popped in the last piece of fried chicken into her mouth just as Rowan walked in. He raised an eyebrow at her, leaning against the open threshold of the kitchen.
“I thought you said you made dinner. And you wanted me here, and I quote, ‘at this exact moment.’” he motioned with his two fingers from each hand.
She rolled her eyes, “Since when did you start actually believing me?”
Rowan let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.
“You need to stop doing this, Aelin. I dropped everything to get here and eat with you because you asked me to show up at this moment. Couldn’t you at least think about it whether I was in something important or not.”
She raised an eyebrow, “And what would be so important to neglect the Queen of Terrasen?”
Aelin knew she sounded arrogant right now. More so than usual. But she wanted to rile him up for what she was going to say later. Just to see what he might do to her.
“Oh, c’mon, Aelin. You know I love you but I also have a lot of work to do being your consort.”
She gave him a glare, “King. Being my king. Not consort. King.”
Rowan rolled his eyes as he made his way to the dining table. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat on it before resting a cheek against his upturned hand. Even to this day Rowan still had not accepted the fact that he was giving. Saying that he didn’t deserve it since he left Maeve take her before he found him. Aelin thought it was stupid. So so stupid. He deserved every bit of that title and more.
Idiot fae bastard. Always thinking they don’t deserve anything.
Rowan’s voice brought Aelin back from her thoughts as he lazily drawled out, “Now what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t just walk back into the meeting saying that my wife decided that she demanded me here for no reason and since I have nothing to do I had to go back.”
Aelin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with it, “So you’re saying that you have nothing to do while I’m here?”
Rowan let out a frustrated groan, the exhaustion from the day finally hitting him in full force.
“You know what I mean, Fireheart.”
“I don’t, frankly. What do you mean?”
Rowan sighed, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands, “I just stood and left that meeting, Aelin, because you shouted down the bond that I had to be here. Because you wanted to eat with me. Then I show up and there’s nothing here. And what seems to be you eating the entirety of our food.”
“I can’t help but be hungry.”
Rowan growled at her lazy counter attacks. She didn’t even bother to hide the fact that she ate the food right before he showed up.
“Aelin,” his voice reverberated across the room, “I dropped my responsibilities for you to spend any possible time with you. And, instead, I get this. I love you and you know I’m willing to drop anything for you but there is an extent. There were over twenty officials in that meeting that I dropped to meet you here and all you do is spite me and leave me starving.”
She walked closer to him, resting her hands on his shoulders before kissing his neck softly from behind.
“Are you really that hungry?”
He loosened up a bit and nodded. She knew that part of him left that meeting not only to eat but to meet her too.
“Does eating me count?”
She felt her husband stiffen underneath her hold as her lips pressed itself against his neck once more. She trailed down kisses to wherever she could reach before back up. She heard a faint growl leave his lips, one of desire instead of frustration now.
“I’m not kidding, Rowan.”
Before she could react, Rowan had picked her up and laid her on the table as he stood between her legs. His lips leaned down and pressed against hers as he grinded against her. Aelin panted as he moved his lips down the column of her throat to the top of her breasts. He pulled one side of it down as he circled his lips around her peaked nipple and sucked softly. He grazed his canines against the delicate nub as he sucked, his hands sliding down her waist, to her hips then slowly pulling the band of her pants down.
“Rowan,” she breathed out as one of her hands gripped the edge of the table and the other digging into his back.
“Please,” she begged as his lips left her nipple and kissed down her stomach after he had pushed up the material of her silk top.
Rowan always loved teasing her, especially now since she played a trick on him earlier.
“And what if I don’t want to eat you, Aelin?”
She groaned, shutting her eyes and resting her head back against the wooden dining table.
“Then I sort of deserve it, I guess.”
She actually thinks I won’t do this. Then she doesn’t know me at all.
Before she could utter out another word, Rowan had fell to his knees. He tugged her pants off her body in one swift movement before parting her legs with his large, calloused hands. His arms wrapped around from underneath her thigh so that his hand rested on her inner thigh. He kissed down from her knee all the way to her heat, or almost her heat, before kissing back up.
Aelin whimpered above him, her toes curled as she struggled to contain the pleasure she was feeling just from his lips. His lips haven’t even touched her centre and she was a writhing mess.
He kissed the side of her knee.
His lips lowered.
They pressed against her inner thighs that were covered in goosebumps from his touch.
He was almost there, almost.
He flicked her clit with his tongue. She gasped from the contact.
“A chance like this?” he said just as he buried his tongue deep into her soaking slit.
Aelin panted from the contact as her toes curled in further. Her hand dug harder into the wood of the table as her other gripped onto his hair like it was her lifeline.
Rowan buried his tongue deeper into her opening, flicking it up and down as if he was eating an ice cream. With all the work and the new builds in Terrasen, Rowan hadn’t had the chance to do this in a long while.
“Rowan, Rowan,” Aelin moaned out from above him, her voice sounding like a prayer to his ears.
He groaned in response as he slipped in two of his fingers into her opening. He watched as she arched her back, willing him to go deeper. Rowan knew immediately that she wasn’t far off. At any moment she would break apart before him and he would love every single moment of it.
Rowan moved his fingers in and out of her as he pressed his lips against her clit. He heard a sharp gasp leave her lips as her hands tugged harder onto his hair.
He didn’t let her finish as he curled his finger inside her. It hit exactly the right spot as Aelin writhed above him as she came all over his fingers.
Rowan pulled his fingers out of her as he stood up. Aelin was panting on the table as she stared up at the creme ceiling of their kitchen.
“I think I rather liked that meal, Fireheart.”
Her cheeks, if possible, turned redder than it possibly was in the first place. Rowan laughed as he leaned down and kissed her lips softly. He moved one of his muscled arms around her back to help her sit up.
He felt her lips trail down his jaw and to his neck as she bit him softly. He groaned in response, tightening his arms around her.
“Want to continue?” Aelin asked.
“With pleasure,” he growled as he picked her up and took her away to their bedroom.
(( Thanks for your patience everyone!! It’s finally time for political vendettas and lunch with a Goat Mom! There aren’t many warnings this chapter besides Sans getting squeezed in a tight space and nausea / brief mention of bile.
Somebody’s gonna get dunked on.
You can find the compilation of Sans’ Sin Quest chapters linked in the
sidebar of this blog under “Masterpost”! Also, our ko-fi donation widget
is there too, just in case you want to feed an irl skele with your love
& money. ♥
Other’s work mention- Cinnamon Cafe and the owner, Cinnabunny, is by @here-comes-the-sinmobile , Lalka is an OC of @Undxrtummies, and Maybelle, who was mentioned, is an OC of @sanscutetum ! Montana is actually the author’s OC. ))
Sorry this took so long to answer, Anon. I haven’t been home much so I had to stop working on this for a while. Hopefully you see it though! (p.s. beware of typos and shit. I barely edited this.)
Rating: M for Much Needed Sexy Time
Word Count: 2,474
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Mako pouted, bottom lip jutting out as Korra tightened his red scarf around his neck.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed, “Because we’re engaged now. I think my parents have the right to want to enjoy a celebratory dinner with us.” She tugged on the scarf once more, nearly choking her financé with the aggressive adjustment.
Gagging slightly, he resigned his argument with a final huff. “Fine. But if you dad challenges me to ‘wrestle’ again, I’m leaving. I don’t care if we were playing ‘water tribe rules’, using ice to freeze your opponent to the ground after he loses is not a fair punishment.”
“Mako he was just-”
“And neither is tying him to the belly of a polar bear dog and telling the thing to ‘roll over’.” Mako folded his arms over his chest, a vague look of displeasure on his face.
Michael rubbed his eyes in tiredness, looking to see Eliza stood next to his bed, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She was reaching her arms up to him as a gesture for him to pick her up, needing her Daddy’s cuddles.
“What happened, sweet girl?” He murmured, sleep evident in his voice. He scooped her up into his arms and against his bare chest, sitting up to rest against the headboard so he could hold her properly. “Daddy’s got you.”
Her tears only continued as Michael rocked her, a warm hand rubbing up and down her back in a soothing motion. Michael was getting increasingly worried as she continued sobbing into him with no sign of stopping.
“Baby girl, I got you, everything’s okay.” He reassured her, pressing kisses to her soft hair, laying down further so he could pull the duvet over the two of them. “Daddy doesn’t like seeing you upset darling.”
“Scary Daddy, the monsters are under my bed.” She sniffled, cuddling even closer to him as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.
“I promise you there’s nothing there, okay? Me and Mummy will always be here to protect you, I promise sweetheart.” He whispered, stroking her soft tufts of brown hair.
“Stay here and sleep Daddy?” She questioned, resting her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familar scent.
“Of course El.” He laid down so he was fully in bed, moving Eliza to the centre of his bare chest, resting one hand on her back and letting the other run through her hair. “Sleep tight sweet girl.”
A collaboration between my good self and the ever wonderful @mybeautifuldecay ( who rocks) .
So I happened to mention a couple of weeks ago that there was a certain anniversary coming up which deserved to be celebrated with some new wedding night fiction, because what about all those missing hours…ahem…and I felt sure that MBD would be up for the challenge, as she is Queen of Smut and I suggested that maybe I could then recreate some scenes from the said fiction, if she thought that might be a good idea….😉😬
So I am delighted to be able to present this little slice of Jamie and Claire wedding night heaven for you all to savour!
The wind rattled through the bedchamber, the windowpane shifting in the breeze. She’d been watching him for some time now, running her fingers along his bare chest. The ghost of her touch caused him to curl towards her. It made her smile, though she didn’t wish to admit her ever growing feelings –just yet. Memories of their evening came flooding back to her, deepening the ache between her thighs
*She missed him*, she realised.
He’d only been asleep for an hour or so, but his grace and easy company were hard to find, even in her own time, she concluded.
“What has ye thinking so hard, sassenach?” Jamie mumbled, opening his eyes, only a little, to find her deep in thought beside him.
“Nothing,” she lied.
He grinned, seeing straight through her, but he decided to let it lie. If it was what he suspected, he was confident she’d catch on shortly.
“Aye, nothing then.” He grinned as he replied.
Outside the birds stirred, their wings humming against the air as they shuffled and began to wake. Dawn was coming.
“Did we really stay up most of the night?” Claire mused, aloud.
“Aye, I think we did. Dinna fash, at least we can both hold onto each other atop our mount tomorrow.” He propped himself up, looking her over as he continued. “Ye will ride with me, will ye no’, Claire?”
The air was so still in their rooms that he could hear her swallow. “Of course.” She replied.
He flopped back against the bed, memorising the pink flush that’d risen in her cheeks.
“Yer worrit about something?”
Jamie didn’t need to look at her now, he kent her well enough to hear the tremor in her voice as she spoke. He felt her tense as she shifted her weight from one side to the other, her hands pulling at the furs beneath them.
“N-not worried, not as such…” she paused, allowing his fingers to link with hers. Her muscles slackened, and she braced herself, “…just a little sore, riding tomorrow might be --less than pleasant.”
Jamie smiled wider, enjoying her candor. She never hid any aspect of herself, it certainly made their coupling easier. “How about I help ye bathe, Claire? Might that ease yer aches?”
“Maybe later; thank you, Jamie.”
“Later? Then how shall I occupy ye now, mo nighean?” She could hear the humour in his voice, the naughty lilt that made her thighs clench no matter how sore she was.
“Yes, later,” she reproached, placing his hand over her breast as she continued, “surely you aren’t thinking…” her voice, breathy as he massaged her, contrasted greatly from her actions.
*You shouldn’t be leading him on,* the small voice at the back of her mind whispered *you can’t take him like this, and then run from him as soon as you’reable.*
Still, she did not stop.
Heart won out, over head.
His touch was intoxicating, she realised, shifting (both consciously and unconsciously) towards him as he explored her. His hand was so warm, even just spread as it was over her breast. Heat radiated from him, flowing from her chest all the way down to her toes.
Pushing himself up, Jamie rolled himself closer to her. He wanted to kiss her, but she’d let her head fall backwards somewhat, making it more difficult to reach. Instead, he opted for the closest patch of exposed flesh. Licking his lips, he allowed his tongue to slide along the underside of her breast as he tasted her, the soft tinge of sweat --and something floral-- emanating from her.
His lips skirted along her flushed skin, the small puffs of air from his mouth causing her flesh to prickle. It left a trail of gooseflesh in his wake as he, steadily, moved upwards.
So caught in the moment was he, it wasn’t until he felt her tug on his hair that he realised they were now horizontal, him hovering over her as she spread her legs to allow him a place to rest his hips. Jamie dipped his arse, letting himself lie fully against her as he arched his back and took her nipple in his mouth, one hand still massaging the other breast.
“How does that feel?” He mumbled around her, licking her, flattening his tongue against her taut flesh.”Ye bit me earlier. I wouldn’t ha’ thought that nice until ye did it. Is this much the same?”
He wanted her, desperately –again– but that could wait. Now he had her at *his* mercy, he could finally ask her some pressing questions. At the back of his mind, an unpleasant thought occurred: this might be the only time he had her this way, this might be the only time to ask her these things.
He was fully prepared to take advantage of the situation.
“Yes…” she whispered, breathlessly, the sound of her ragged voice piercing his maudlin thoughts, “it –tickles– a little, but it’s good, very good…”
“Describe it to me, please, sassenach.” He slowed his ministrations, teasing her a little, but also allowing her a reprieve. Eager to learn, Jamie wanted to know everything he could about her. He wanted to pleasure her the way she’d pleasured him.
“I…I don’t know…how to…” she gasped, lust shooting through her at his touch.
Claire felt as if she were floating under water, just beneath the surface, the thin coating of the tide sweeping her away. His tongue lapped at her sensitive breasts, running sensual patterns against her delicate flesh. How could she answer whilst he had his mouth on her like this?
“It’s like nothing else, Jamie. Hard or soft, whether it be your hands,” she tightened her grip on his hair as she tugged his head closer and arched her back. He grazed his teeth over her, suckling her harder now at her insistence, “or you mouth…”
*’or yourcock’* (she thought but did not say)
He noticed the subtle shift of her hips, the way she rocked against him as she spoke. He didn’t interrupt her flow, though, enjoying how she lost herself in the description.
He was breaking down her walls, brick by brick.
“…it feels like fire, in my veins. Like I might burn as you…” she paused, letting out a brief moan as he angled himself lower, dragging himself down along her supine form. “…oh –God– Jamie!”
He buried his nose in the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, drinking in the raw scent of her. It was like nothing he’d ever imagined. Musky, mingled with want and sweat –and Claire–, it overpowered him as he looked up over the plains of her body. From this angle he could see the feminine shape of her. From the slight incline of her belly, to the dip just at the centre of her ribs. He could see the spread of her hips where they lay flat against the sheets. He saw the wee trail of spittle he’d left as he’d journeyed southwards.
Her chest heaved as she breathed in a rather large breath of air, the candlelight catching on the damp patches he’d left over her breasts. It almost glittered in the pre-dawn glow, calling to him.
Running his hands over the exposed flesh of her inner thighs, he brought his attention back to the very centre of her, marvelling at the delicacy of her skin. Mostly hairless on the inside of her legs, he could see every vein, every pulse of blood beneath as it flowed through her.
Poetry in motion, he thought.
She was something else, something –otherworldly-.
“Touch me, Jamie. Please.” She begged, need lacing her tone as she spread her legs further apart for him.
“Ah Dhia, Claire. So…red…” Exposed to him as she was, he could see every inch of her. He saw where the blood gathered, pounding below her thin skin.
“Y-yes, there’s a reason…” she tried to explain, with some difficulty. “It’s because,” she allowed for a brief pause as she ran her fingers over the length of herself, right before Jamie’s eyes, “…I want you.” She punctuated each word clearly, rubbing her hand up and down as she spoke.
The bed gave out a dim creak as he twisted onto his side, allowing him to twin his fingers with hers.
Learning from her.
“Christ, Claire. A woman can?”
“Yes, e-everything you can do, I can do…” she refrained from saying ‘better’, but smiled to herself as he watched their combined efforts. He was in awe, he’d never thought…
Her cries pulled him from his revelry, his eyes snapped up to watch her, worry colouring his expression. Had he hurt her? He’d started out soft and gentle, but as she’d increased her pace, so he’d increased his pressure.
She pulled him firmly against her, her hands gripping his as her thighs held him prisoner.
He didn’t object.
She tensed and writhed, the muscles of her legs clenching and tightening around his shoulders and back as she pushed her arse from the bed.
A sudden urge took him, and he leant forward. Sweeping his tongue across their joined fingers, he tasted the moisture that had gathered along and underneath their fingertips.
His breath caught as she bucked and cried out, her hands digging (almost painfully) into his as she held him still now.
Her breathing was uneven and she shook as he watched, and waited.
Colour faded from her groin and thighs now, as she dropped his fingers and flopped back against the thin mattress, the material depressing ever so slightly with her weight.
He placed one tiny kiss at the crease of her thigh before, slowly, pushing himself upwards and gathering her against his chest. Dawn was in full bloom now, the ethereal red hue settling on the room as he whispered Gaelic prayers into her ear, certain she’d fallen into a light slumber.
“Happy wedding day, my bride.” He sighed, *“My Sassenach.”*
She stirred, her legs sliding up and along his hip, resting there as if he’d once been a part of her.
“My Claire.” – Somewhere –floating deep in the vast oceans that seemed to surrounded her– she felt him.
He called to her, the deep burr of his Scots accent burrowing itself into the very essence of her as she sank. Her body, heavy from her vigorous activities, plummeted softly through the inky depths of slumber.
“My Jamie…” she called back, allowing the black to consume her once more.