Flood my Mornings: And tell me that you love me
Anon said: For the next FMM I would love some J and C alone time ;)
Notes from Mod Bonnie:
- This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
- See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List
- Previous installment: Hogmanay (Frasers spend the holiday with Jamie’s Scottish friend)
(NSFW, this one—Nary a plot to be found)
He was on a beach. Aye, he was, daft as that seemed.
And laying on his back.
Nor did he need to open his eyes to ken that fact. The wind was whipping across him, icy and sharp in itself, and peppering his skin with a spray of sand, forbye.
He couldn’t move arms or legs, some force weighting him to the freezing sand—and the tide was coming in, fast.
He braced himself for the shock, for the frozen wall of—
But the onrush of water over his feet and legs was warm, and he groaned with the relief and pleasure of it. Nor was it just warm compared to the frigid air: each swell was as as hot and comforting as bathwater, and seemed to seep right into his bones.
The waves came in faster and higher, crashing over him…
… then pulling back and out….
..and over him…and back…
… each sinking him deeper, deeper into the sand…
…a rhythm of heat and cold, and blissful heat again, all over his body, over,
…and Jamie came slowly to the surface to find that the frozen beach was his bed….
….and the steaming waves of heat were Claire’s mouth between his legs.
Her hand slid upward to tease the sensitive skin around his nipples and he moaned for her, spreading his legs wide in a question that she answered at once, taking him deep, deep into her mouth.
His head was limp on the pillow but he watched her, the dark shapes of her hair spangled with moonlight, lapping forward like the sea foam, slow and regular and sure. He said her name, his tongue feeling slow and feckless compared to what she was doing with hers.
Her hand suddenly slid back downward to do something that had him fisting both hands hard in her hair, arching his back and making her moan around him as he pushed deeper. The light sparked behind his eyes as he moved in tandem with her, her scalp hot, its rhythm urgent under his demanding hands. A Dhia, she could have had him right then— but he wasn’t ready to relent just yet. “Come here,” he growled, pulling her upward.
She moved to obey. He could see the gleam of her smooth, strong thighs as she moved toward him and poised herself over—
“No,” he rasped, “come *here*”
“I—What?—" She laid a hand flat on his belly to steady herself. “Where do you want—”
He slid down and pulled her higher so she was practically on his chest.
The sweet surprise in that faint, hoarse ‘…oh.’
“Oh, aye,” he whispered back.
“You’ve never done it from that position before.” She sounded dazed.
“I suspect,” he murmured, threading his arms around her legs to tug her toward his mouth, “I shall soon be apologizing…for the grievous oversight….”
A thrill of something dark and hungry in the way she looked down at him at him when she knelt on either side of his head. He gave her that dark gleam right back when he sat up as far as he could, kissing the sweet curve of her belly, slowly…hearing the little sounds of need from her throat….slowly… the urgency making her moan in earnest as he trailed his lips down….down….Her sharp hiss as he casually laid his head back on the pillow, grinning up at her. One of her thighs was against his cheek—and he could feel it trembling. He kissed his way slowly up it, just able to see her face above the curve of her belly; and as his tongue met the warm flesh of her, and the sound she made—
He skimmed his hands up and down her thighs, her arse, as he worked, feasting on every sigh, every tightening of her legs, the way she cupped his head, the rise and fall of her as she responded to his touch.
Christ, it must be good for her, this new way, for not a minute gone and—
“Ja—oh god—” she moaned, her breathing deep and ragged as her legs went taut and she bolted up high onto her knees as though to get away. New position or not, he knew the ways of her body, and knew that as as soon as he pulled her back down onto him—
The storm of her release crashed all around him, and it was as though her pleasure entered his body, driving him with her need and satisfaction so that he felt those things—NEEDED them—as deeply as he knew his own name. His arms wrapped tight around her hips, riding the rise and swell of her as she sighed and shuddered, he felt as though he’d happily die there on that frozen beach, if this sea spirit was to be condemned there with him, too.
“Aye,” he murmured a time later, when in a far less fanciful frame of mind, as she slumped against the headboard above him and he caressed her belly, “I do humbly beg your pardon for never thinking of that before.“
“You are— completely—forgiven.” An aftershock ran through her and she gasped, laughing a little. “Jesusbloodyfuckingchrist….”
“Mmmm, if I’ve got ye blaspheming, it must be good,” he purred, teasing with his fingers. “Shall we try that again?”
“Oh that is *definitely* getting added to the rotation.” She sighed hugely with released exertion, and made to clamber off him, then YELPED as he held her hips firm and dove back in. “Jamie!—didn’t mean NOW—” she half-laughed, half-whimpered, wriggling madly which only intensified the pressure of his efforts between her legs. She felt it, and the whimper became a groan. He felt her brace her hand behind her on his belly, her back arching in an inexorable swell of sensation. “Jamie—JamienonoJamienot again—I'm—”
He pulled back to look her in the eye. “D’ye really wish me t’stop?”
She looked down at him…then released a deep, shuddering breath that ended in a wicked grin. She snaked her hands down to hold his head in place, and moved forward, braced on her knees to–
Didna think so