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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 12
Chapter 11
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Jamie pulled away from his lover’s lips to look at her. Her lips were coated in his blood, like lipstick, and she was laughing breathily, erotically, bosom heaving, breasts bouncing as he thrusted into her. Her cries were muffled, as if they were underwater. Jamie braced his hands on the headboard for a better angle, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He bent down again, eyes still closed, and pleasure surged through him from head to toe as fangs plunged in again, drinking deeply, lover’s moan vibrating against his throat.
He pulled back, opening his eyes to kiss those coated lips, and the moans morphed again.
He opened his eyes to see John, writhing in pleasure, blood coating his coral lips.
And Jamie kept thrusting, braced his hands on the man’s chest, and thrust, and thrust, and thrust—
——
Jamie woke with a start, coated head to toe in sweat, cock in his fist.
He sat up, panting.
What the bloody hell was happening to him…?
It had been nearly three weeks since he and John had shared Claire together, and they’d done it a fair amount of times since, sharing the bed after.
And more and more, he was having dreams like this.
He didn’t even know how it made sense. The man didn’t have a quim; he’d seen the opposite parts in full view, multiple times. And yet, all the same, Jamie was dreaming of…well, fucking him.
It scared the living daylights out of him.
Thankfully, blessedly, he was alone in his chamber, formerly a guest chamber. It was John’s night to have her to himself. He threw the sheets aside and fully undressed, desperate to feel coolness on his skin.
All this did nothing to calm his cockstand.
It made no sense. He was in love with Claire. And her body, her womanhood.
And yet…how many times did Jamie dream of fangs in his neck that belonged to a man? How many times did he see that man’s cock in his dreams, swaying and bobbing before it plunged into Claire? How many times did he dream of making the man scream the way he could to Claire?
“Jesus bloody Christ!”
Jamie was in torment. He stroked himself to completion to thoughts of all of the above, and then he sat with his face in his hands afterward, hopelessly lost.
Something entered his mind that lifted his soul, just the slightest bit:
“People do not have to be in love to fuck, Monsieur Fraser.”
Of course. He and John had been naked before one another enough times to need two hands to count. Jamie was a young man. Such thoughts were bound to happen. And it did not mean that his heart was straying from Claire. Not at all.
His body was just…confused.
He cleaned himself up and lay back down, still naked, leaving the sheet discarded.
His life had changed, so very much, so very quickly. He still didn’t know his way around his own home, for Christ’s sake.
There was only so much a man could take.
He drifted back to a fitful sleep, and the subsequent dreams were no help at all.
——
The following night, Claire was out in her garden. She hadn’t wanted to be bothered with sun protection, so she just waited until the sun went down.
“It’s about time you two play another chess game, anyway,” she’d announced on her way through the halls to the greenhouse, tying her apron. The men had shrugged and rolled their eyes. What else was there to do but obey her?
And so they did, sharing stories and jokes and whisky all the while.
“Aye, and she boxed my ears fer it,” Jamie said. “Then she ran and told her father…and he boxed my ears even better. Then he told his wife…and she boxed my ears the hardest of all.”
John laughed out loud, tossing his head back, slapping the table. “All that for a kiss on the cheek!”
“Aye! And me, a lad of eight!” Jamie shook his head, laughing right along. “I should ha’ known she was trouble. But I’m defenseless, foolish mortal sinner that I am.”
John sighed. “I’ve no such stories from my childhood, unfortunately.” He shrugged. “It never occurred to me, with either sex.”
Jamie took pause, biting his tongue from asking something that had been on his mind for a good while.
“I’m an open book, Jamie,” John said, as though reading his mind. “Ask me.”
“Well, that is…ye knew that young?” Jamie set his whisky down. “About your…predilections?”
“Indeed I did,” John answered, setting his own glass down. “I knew as early as I can recall that I was not like the other boys. It’s…a rather difficult thing to ignore.”
“I understand why ye didna kiss any lads as a wean,” Jamie said. “But lasses?”
“Truthfully, I didn’t think I wanted to kiss lasses until I met Claire.”
“Really?”
“Yes…I had never had the slightest interest in any other. My marriage to Isobel was arranged, and would have been purely of convenience, unfortunately for her. I…knew what to do. To have children, even to make her enjoy it. But it wasn’t as if I looked forward to it.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Canna imagine no’ knowing.”
John laughed, almost to himself, and Jamie could not decipher it.
“Well…that’s the truth of it,” John said with finality.
Jamie let a long silence pass, turning his attention to the board as if to make a move, but the pieces and board were blurred; he was staring at nothing, his mind racing.
“How…”
“Yes?”
Jamie hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
He cleared his throat. “How d’ye…know if ye…like a man?”
Jamie did not look up from the board, apparently very invested in his next move.
“Well…how do you know you like a woman?”
“Well, I…I kent I liked wee Flora because she was kind to me. She had the prettiest wee smile, and verra pretty hair.”
John hummed thoughtfully, and Jamie could hear the smile in it. “I knew I liked one of the serf boys at around that age for just about the same reasons,” he said fondly. “He had a…crooked little smile. And he was kind to me. Probably just because he worked for my family. But I found myself wanting to return that kindness.”
Jamie hummed. “Aye…I wanted to return her kindness. And Claire…the first thing she did was offer to help me, to heal me. I…wanted to spend the rest of my life repaying that kindness.”
“The first time I made love to a man, I was fifteen. I knew I wanted him almost right away. It’s…a bit tricky for men like us; you have to give the right signals, because if they’re misread, it’s death. But he was…dashing. Such a flirt. Used his tongue when he sipped his wine, looked me right in the eye when he did it.”
“Did ye…know back then…? How to make love?”
Jamie was still staring at the board, and it was clear that John was quite aware that he didn’t give a damn about the game.
“To women, yes. I’d been told. I had a married brother at that point. It was common knowledge for lads my age. But men…I’d no idea what to expect. It…hurt the first time.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Hurt…?”
All the times he’d been stroked, sucked, or inside Claire…there’d never been an opportunity for it to hurt.
“Do you…know how men make love, Jamie?”
Jamie finally looked up from the board, bright red from head to toe, burning with shame. “That…was my next question.”
“Oh. Oh.”
John leaned back in his seat, blinking several times. “Well, it…do you know the term rogering? Buggery?”
Jamie gulped, his throat dry. “I’ve…heard it in passing.”
“Well, it’s…that.”
Jamie wet his lips, except his tongue, too, was bone dry.
“The, ehm…the arse.”
Jamie’s jaw dropped. Oh.
“Christ.”
“Indeed.”
He quite understood how that could hurt.
“I was…woefully unprepared for it the first time,” John went on, sensing that Jamie had absolutely no words. “But once one is used to it, gradually…it’s exquisite.”
Christ.
Lord help him if he wasn’t getting hard.
Jamie cleared his throat. “I see.”
John leaned forward again, his sapphire eyes swimming, unreadable. “Is there…a reason you’re asking all this?”
The images from his dreams flashed through Jamie’s mind, and he swallowed thickly, trying to will his cock into compliance. Unsuccessfully.
“Ehm…no. Just…curious.”
“Right.”
The ticking of the clock was loud as thunder in the several minutes that passed.
“Your move.”
Jamie jumped at the breaking of the silence. He made eye contact with John, and he felt flames lick him from head to toe. The man was unblinking, electric blue raging in his irises.
“Aye.”
Jamie picked up his hand to make any damned move, he didn’t bloody care what happened.
“You’re trembling.”
Jamie forcefully grabbed a rook and moved it.
“That was not a legal move, Jamie.”
Shocking even himself, Jamie swept the chessboard off the table in fury, breathing heavily. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the wall past John.
And feeling his eyes burning into him all the while.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me.”
John scoffed. “Where on Earth would you like me to look? Especially considering you’ve just thrown our entire game all over my study.”
Jamie shoved himself away from the table, standing up, pacing.
“Is there something you want to say?”
“No.”
“Alright.”
“Stop it!”
“Stop what, Jamie?” Now John sounded irritated, standing up as well.
“Being so bloody calm!”
“Shall I throw something as well? Perhaps I’ll upend the table.”
“You…are infuriating.”
“Am I calm? Or infuriating?”
“You…” Jamie was trembling head to toe, pointing a vicious, accusatory finger at him. “Ye ken exactly what ye’re doing.”
“Oh! I do! Would you care to tell me what that is?”
“You…” Words left him again, and he growled in frustration, resuming his pacing.
“You are clearly very tormented about something,” John said. “If you would like my help, I’m here. But if not, I can leave.”
“Don’t you bloody go anywhere,” he snapped.
“Then what do you want from me, Jamie?” John threw his hands up, scoffing incredulously. “You’re behaving like—”
And then Jamie was unable to stop himself from showing him exactly what he wanted from him.
Before John could finish his sentence, Jamie crossed the room, seized John’s face with both hands, and, with a growl, kissed him.
John froze beneath him, and Jamie just stood there, squeezing his face, lips on his. Three, perhaps four or five seconds went by, and then he pulled away, utterly breathless, hands still cupping either side of John’s face.
They stared at each other, bug eyed and gobsmacked.
And then before Jamie could blink, he was thrown across the room, into a bookshelf, and half a dozen books toppled from the shelf. John’s mouth was on his, devouring his lips like a man starved. He was moaning into every kiss, plunging his tongue between Jamie’s lips.
Yes! God, bloody damned hell! Yes!
There was no sense, no logic. Just more, he needed more…
Jamie kissed him back with fervor, trying to push back on his bruising grip, but was unable.
What a fool he’d been to order this man about in the bedroom with Claire…he had no power over him. Not really.
John had always, always held the power.
That was abundantly clear now, as Jamie remained pinned against the shelf, touching John everywhere he could reach, raking his fingers up and down his back, running them through his hair, gripping his neck…his neck…John began kissing his neck, and Jamie’s head fell back into the books, groaning.
His pelvis was pinned in place too, by John’s pelvis.
Their rock hard cocks were right there, inches from one another.
Claire enjoyed rocking against him while they kissed, before they’d gotten a chance to disrobe. He’d even let her finish like this on occasion, grinding down on his thigh. She got great pleasure from it.
Experimentally, he rocked his hips against John’s, and the man yelped.
“Jamie…” he purred, kissing him on the mouth again, responding in kind by rolling his own hips.
“Christ…” Jamie hissed. They continued clumsily until they found a rhythm, and Jamie felt shocks and jolts of pleasure shoot to his core every second.
“Jamie, oh God…” John disappeared into his neck again, mewling as he always did when he fucked Claire in front of Jamie, except now, Jamie was the one to pull those sounds from him.
John held the power…but not in every sense.
“Let me taste you…” John suddenly murmured, kissing, licking, suckling at Jamie’s neck, giving a particularly languid roll of his hips, causing Jamie’s eyes to roll to the back of his head. “There is no smell more heavenly than you. Please…”
Jamie tugged on his hair, forcing their eyes to meet, stilling his hips. “What’ll happen…? My bond wi’ Claire…”
“I…I don’t know…”
Jamie panted, staring into John’s electric, wild eyes. His heart felt like it would explode from his chest; he felt like blood would simply burst from his pulse points on his neck. He hadn’t felt this mad since just before he’d let Claire taste him, just before her hands were on his cock, just before she’d helped him find oblivion.
And he wanted John to do the same?
It made no sense! He swore he could never love another but Claire! He swore he could never love a man. It wasn’t natural. No matter how much he respected John…Jamie was not like him. Could not be.
Bloody hell…what was natural about any of this? He’d been letting a woman feed off his blood for months, a woman who’d been alive for over two hundred years! Who the hell was he to abstain from something for its unnaturalness?
If Jamie really thought about it, truly and deeply…there was nothing more natural in the world than this man in his arms and the way his heart pushed outward, seeking his.
He thought of his dream, of plunging his cock into someone, eyes closed with ecstasy, and then opening his eyes to see John, writhing in pleasure, blood coating his coral lips.
Damn it to Hell.
“Bite me, John.”
John loosed a delicious moan, the likes of which Claire always had just before she took her first bite, and the sharp, familiar sting of fangs pierced Jamie, and he groaned in ecstasy, pushing John’s head in further, arching his hips to grind his cock into his hip.
“Oh God…oh God…”
It took Jamie a moment to realize it was not his own voice, but John’s.
John pulled away from his neck, only to kiss Jamie deeply, madly, and Jamie tasted his blood on John’s tongue.
“Oh God…” John said again, holding Jamie’s face in his hands. “It’s you.”
Jamie panted, his vision bleary. “What…?”
“I knew it,” John whispered, sculpting his hands over Jamie’s face, pupils blown wide, all the blue nearly gone. “It’s been you this whole time.”
“What d’ye mean…?”
John exclaimed loudly, throwing his arms around Jamie and continuing to feed, snaking a hand down to unbutton Jamie’s trousers, freeing his throbbing cock, and Jamie forgot all else.
——
“Yes, that’s very good.”
Mary smiled shyly up at Claire before continuing her task, using a mortar and pestle to crush up some thyme leaves.
“You’ve been adjusting very well, Mary,” Claire said. “We never even had to tie you up. Your will is quite strong.”
Her eyes flashed in fear for a moment at the words tie you up, but she smiled. “Th-thank you.”
“It’s admirable. You could teach a thing or two to the rest of our kind.”
“I j-just don’t desire to h-h-hurt anyone,” she shrugged. “I n-never did b-before.”
“I understand. Don’t crush it too fine, or else—”
She felt it.
“Or else what?”
She saw red, her vision narrowed.
“Or else what, Claire?”
She felt bitter acid fill her mouth and go down her throat, like a sick perversion of his blood, knowing that that sweet nectar was going down someone else’s throat.
“Claire…?”
“Stay.”
The poor little thing jumped, but she obeyed as Claire stormed out of the greenhouse in the blink of an eye.
I will rip her fucking head off. I warned her. I warned them both.
She relished at the thought of holding Geneva’s severed head in her hands, or Geillis. Whoever the fuck it was, they would be dead before they could blink.
She didn’t even register that the scent was leading her to John’s study until she threw the doors open, breaking them from their hinges.
“Christ!”
“Claire! Let me explain!”
She froze, her eyes scanning the room for skirts and lace, and seeing none.
What she did see was Jamie pinned against a bookshelf, blood dripping from his neck, his hands woven through short brown hair.
John’s hair.
Her eyes roamed down to find that Jamie’s cock was in John’s hand.
“Dinna hurt him,” Jamie stammered. “I…I wanted him to…”
“Let me explain, my love…” John tried again, slowly removing his hand from Jamie’s cock.
Claire’s mouth was wide open; she was sure her jaw would hit the floor.
She never thought this day would come.
“Shut up,” she snapped, her voice high and thin. “Keep going.”
“What…?” they croaked in unison, stupidly.
“You fucking heard me.”
She was instantly upon them, on her knees, unbuttoning John’s trousers. He moaned in heavenly relief, returning his mouth to Jamie’s neck. Claire kissed and licked both of their cocks before yanking Jamie’s trousers down further so she could bite his thigh. His yelp turned into a moan as she suckled, mewling against the skin.
“My darlings…” she whimpered, pumping both of their cocks as she licked up trails of blood from his thigh. “My beautiful, perfect loves…”
She sucked them both intermittently, coating each of them with Jamie’s blood, driving them both mad, until John growled, taking her by the hair and throwing her roughly onto her back. She squeaked in shock, but then stretched out languidly, opening her legs.
“I want you to fuck her,” John said gruffly to Jamie. “I want you to make her scream, and in turn, I shall make you scream.”
Jamie gulped. “Aye.”
“Do you trust me?”
Jamie nodded without hesitation.
“Then go.”
Jamie got onto the floor and crawled over Claire, and she keened pathetically, arching her hips to him desperately. She cried out in exquisite relief when he finally thrust home, and she opened her mouth to catch drips of his blood from the wounds John had left behind. John let him get a few thrusts in before he got on the floor himself, and Claire knew what he was going to do.
“Do it, Jamie. Make her scream.”
Jamie thrust deeper and harder, and Claire yelped with every thrust, threading her arm around his neck, tucking his face into her. Jamie then mercilessly rubbed her clitoris, until she was screaming, coming around him.
“Don’t you dare finish too,” John commanded huskily. “Not just yet.”
Jamie stilled his hips, sweating like mad, and Claire knew it was taking everything in him not to spill his seed, especially with her still pulsing around him.
“He’s going to worship you,” Claire panted, stroking Jamie’s damp hair.
He trembled violently in her hands, and she kissed him gently to soothe him.
“Will you tell me what you feel?” Claire crooned, running her fingers over his lips. He nodded, and she smiled, puncturing his lip for her own pleasure.
“He’s…holding my arse…squeezing, as I do to you.”
“Do you like it…?”
“I…I do…” He hummed with pleasure, beginning to move his hips again, causing Claire to squirm.
“It’s beautiful,” John whispered reverently, and Jamie trembled again, groaning.
“He’s…he’s kissing me.”
“How does it feel?”
“Like…” Before he could answer, he gasped, and the sound melted into a delicious moan that he smothered by kissing Claire sloppily.
“He’s bitten you,” Claire whispered against his lips.
“Aye,” Jamie croaked. “It’s…oh, Christ…”
“You’re delicious, Jamie…Good God…”
Jamie moved his hips all the more, thrusting backward into John’s touch.
“He’s…splitting me like a ripe peach…” Jamie panted, tensing again.
“You have to relax, love. I swear to you, I won’t hurt you.”
“He won’t,” Claire assured him, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “You’ll feel like a God.”
Claire kissed him, stroked his back, sucked languidly on his blood, until he was putty once more, and then he choked a guttural cry against her mouth.
“He’s…oh, Christ…”
Claire knew exactly what John was doing.
“His tongue…”
“Yes…I know. Just like you do to my cunt, hm?”
Jamie could not answer; he was too busy crying out to the Lord, moaning and groaning and grunting like a rutting beast. His hips moved rapidly, unable to stop himself. Claire wrapped her legs around his waist, feet just barely missing John’s head where he disappeared in Jamie’s arse. John hummed and moaned as he feasted, and Jamie sounded like he might cry.
And then, all too quickly, Jamie yelped louder than ever, freezing above her, and Claire felt his seed shoot within her, and she giggled erotically, watching his beautiful face contort and sweat with uninhibited pleasure.
“Good lad,” John whispered, and Claire shivered, toes curling. She’d only come once, and that was certainly not enough. She heard John plant kisses to the perfectly round halves of Jamie’s beautiful arse, until the sweet boy’s breathing finally returned to normal.
“Did you like that, my darling?” Claire crooned.
Jamie laughed, his voice cracking, breath tickling Claire’s breast where he’d collapsed. “Bloody hell…what do you think?”
Claire giggled, and John chuckled, crawling up their left side.
“Don’t you dare!” Claire pushed Jamie’s face into her breast and turned her head. “You clean that filthy mouth this instant.”
“Oh…come, now…you love tasting yourself on my tongue.”
“That’s entirely different, and you know it! Lady parts are self-cleaning.”
John chuckled, shaking his head. He stood up, and Claire smirked to see his cock firm at attention, swinging as he approached the table with the whisky. He maintained eye contact as he took a swig, swished it around, and spat into an empty glass. He poured the glass into the fire.
“Again,” Claire commanded. “For good measure.”
John’s eyes narrowed, looking very much like he wanted to punish her. But he obeyed, swishing, spitting, and dumping once more.
“Good lad,” she said, echoing what he’d said to Jamie just moments ago. Claire sat up, pushing a delirious and caught-off-guard Jamie to his knees. John dropped to his knees beside them and kissed Claire hungrily, moaning into her mouth. He pulled away to do the same to Jamie, mussing his damp curls. He licked Jamie’s bottom lip, still bleeding from Claire’s small puncture, and Claire watched his cock twitch.
“Would you like to learn how to suck a prick, darling boy?” John twirled a thick, red curl between his fingers, and the words and the sight alone were nearly enough to make Claire come again.
“Would that please ye, My Lord?”
God, they must be driving her mad on purpose.
“Yes, Jamie. It would. So very much.”
Jamie kissed him again, and Claire watched their tongues dance in and out of one another’s mouths, trailing her fingers up and down the backs of their necks. John leaned back against a bookshelf, and Jamie followed, their mouths connected as if by a thread, but John put a hand on his chest, keeping their faces a foot apart.
“Go on,” he whispered. “Touch it.”
Jamie gulped as he looked down at John’s cock, standing straight up.
“Like you do to yourself.”
Jamie nodded, reaching a trembling hand out to it, and John hissed when he finally made contact.
“Oh, God…”
Claire kissed John’s neck, his jaw, stroking his hair.
Jamie closed his fist around John’s cock, and the noise John made resembled a sob. Jamie looked up into his face again, mesmerized. He gave an experimental stroke, and John bucked his hips up. Jamie smiled darkly, continuing.
He’d always been such a fast learner.
After a few moments, Jamie released John, and John whimpered at the loss. And then Jamie scooted over on the floor and lowered his head.
“Dear, sweet Jamie…” John whimpered. “Please…”
Jamie stuck his long, beautiful tongue out, and licked John from base to tip.
“Christ…” John hissed, and Claire could stand no more. She leaned against the same bookshelf, rucking her skirts up and touching herself. She sighed with relief, leaning her head on John’s shoulder, and he rested his head atop hers. He threaded one of his arms around her, grabbing a fistful of her hair. They both gasped and moaned when Jamie opened his mouth and took John’s cock all the way in.
“Jamie…”
Claire sped her fingers on her clitoris, mewling quietly, hardly daring to blink lest she miss a single moment of this.
“Hollow out your cheeks…yes…yes, love…oh…”
John was in heaven, and it brought Claire right there with him. Jamie got a good rhythm, and Claire’s heart melted to see the boy reach for John’s hand, and they laced their fingers together, squeezing. After a few moments, John brought their joined hands to his mouth and punctured one of Jamie’s knuckles, keeping their fingers laced, and suckled the blood as Jamie sped up, his head bobbing up and down.
He was a natural.
Claire was ready, was so close, but she waited.
She waited until John was choking with every inhale, crying out with every exhale, until he was thrusting his hips to meet Jamie’s lips, until Jamie was making choking, gagging sounds with every thrust.
John cried out louder than ever, and then Claire sped her fingers, finally unable to hold back her release when she saw Jamie’s Adam’s apple bob: he had swallowed John down without a second thought. John stroked her hair and kissed her head through her orgasm, until she stopped crying out and was only mewling quietly.
Jamie looked up at them both in disbelief, eyes absolutely shining.
“Did that…please ye?”
John laughed, slamming his head back against the books, throat arching. “Dear God!” He picked his head back up and dragged Jamie’s face to his. He kissed him, and Claire watched, heart melting as Jamie straddled John’s lap on his knees as if it were the most natural thing in the world, limp cocks nestling together like spent little animals.
“I am more pleased than I’ve been in a hundred years.”
Jamie’s smile broadened, running his hands through John’s hair.
“And you, Claire? Ye dinna mind?”
“Mind? For God’s sake…” She laughed too, shaking her head. “I’ve been praying this would happen for months.”
They all laughed then, breathy and spent.
“What…did ye mean…? Before?” Jamie’s voice was small, timid, unsure.
“Oh, Jamie…” John stroked his cheeks, pushed damp hair off of his forehead. “I had a feeling, ever since I laid eyes on you…but when I tasted you, I knew for certain. I’d known that taste before.”
Claire’s dead heart swelled, her chest tight.
“In the East…all those years ago, we were taught about reincarnation,” John explained. “You’re familiar?”
“Aye, vaguely…but I don’t…”
“Well, I wasn’t sure how much of it I believed. But to live as long as I have…one is bound to witness multiple incarnations. If one believes in that sort of thing.”
Claire couldn’t stop herself; she reached out and stroked Jamie’s hair as well, overcome with affection.
“Your blood, Jamie…I’m so drawn to you because you…you’re him.”
“Him…?”
John kissed him gently, and Claire knew he’d shed tears were it possible. He was glowing. “You share Hector’s soul.”
Jamie’s jaw dropped, eyes bugging.
“We were meant to be together. Death could not keep us apart.”
Jamie remained still as stone.
“And you were made to be Claire’s mate so I would find you again. So you could be my mate again, too.”
Claire half-laughed, half-sobbed, leaning in to kiss Jamie’s cheek.
“Do you see, darling?” she said.
“I…I think…”
“Do you remember that piano piece? The one I played just before Claire bit you for the first time?”
“Aye…”
“I hadn’t played that piece in a hundred years,” John said, voice catching. “That was Hector’s song, Jamie. And I never wanted to hear it again, not until I could lay eyes on him again. Which of course I didn’t think possible. But I knew…even then…it had to be you.”
“You…you haven’t played that…not since…”
John cut her off with a nod, his own eyes red rimmed and painfully sad.
“I do, too.”
I love him too, she’d meant, because she knew then, too, that John loved him.
Claire watched as the memory played in Jamie’s mind, too, and his eyes lit with understanding.
“I couldn’t control my own fingers,” John went on. “They just…played it. Because my soul knew that his soul was in there.”
John splayed his hand over Jamie’s sternum, over his heart. Claire nuzzled Jamie’s shoulder, kissing it.
“I was just…waiting for you to come around,” he finished. “Hector never cared for women. So it was easy for him. I had to wait for you to realize.”
“Christ…” Jamie breathed, barely audible.
“I know it’s a lot,” John said quickly. “I’m sorry to frighten you…”
Jamie shook his head. “It’s…everything in my life…it all makes sense now.”
John cracked into a wide smile, eyes shining.
God, Claire could break down and cry.
John had not been utterly miserable the entire hundred years, but he hadn’t shone like that since Hector left this earth.
He was beautiful like this.
“I…Christ, John…” Jamie’s voice cracked, tears spilling over his flushed cheeks. “I love you. I think I have all along, but I see it now. I do. I love you.”
John kissed him with relief, and Claire laugh-sobbed again, stroking the backs of their necks again.
My perfect, beautiful boys.
“Ye’ll join us,” Jamie said suddenly, cupping John’s cheeks. “Claire and I. When we handfast.”
John gulped, pupils blowing ever wider. “Are you…asking me to marry you, James Fraser?”
Jamie’s smile became crooked, one of his eyes squinting just slightly. “Aye. I suppose I am.”
“Yes.” John kissed him again, soundly. “Of course. Of course I will.”
Claire squealed with joy, kissing both of their cheeks over and over, until they kissed her mouth in turn, then each other’s, then hers, over and over until who was who became impossible and unimportant to decipher.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
Text
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 11
Chapter 10
Read on AO3
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John, Jamie, Claire, and Louise were sitting in the parlor playing whist and drinking whisky and wine. Jamie’s head and heart were light, partly from the good whisky, and partly from the company. They were so easy to just be around. And so easy to laugh with. Jamie hadn’t laughed this hard since he was a bairn, dumping buckets of water on his sister and then running for his life.
Claire and Louise sat on the couch across from Jamie and John, teamed up for the game. They laid their cards on the coffee table, but the game was really happening in the background of their conversation.
“He was pathetic,” Louise sputtered, describing a decades-old encounter with a human man who’d let her drink from him during their love-making. “And married as he was, he should have known what he was doing.”
Jamie shook his head; leave it to Louise to not give a damn about the marital status of her lovers. He had never in his life imagined having such lewd conversation over a game of cards, least of all with two women present— especially when one of the women was leading said conversation.
“I even said to him, right there, naked as the day I was born, his head between my legs, that he’d never live up to my female lover’s tongue, so he should just stop trying.”
“Dear God in Heaven…” John wheezed, laying down a card. “You’re bloody shameless.”
“It’s true! All the best attention I’ve gotten between my legs has been from a woman. I’ve wanted to give up on men so many times…”
“And you just keep going back,” Claire chuckled.
Louise sighed dramatically, laying her head on Claire’s shoulder. “Once I can see his cock through his trousers, I cannot help it.”
Claire tittered, patting the side of Louise’s head. “There, there, ma cher. You are not the first, and you shall not be the last.” She winked over at Jamie, and he felt his own cock twitch. Claire had expressed to him on many more than one occasion how appreciative she was for the size of that particular appendage.
And of course he was more than happy to use it to please her.
“Perhaps I need to try myself what you do,” Louise picked up her head, looking at Claire. “A cock feels all the better with a cunt in your face, doesn’t it, Claire?”
“For God’s sake, Louise!” Claire grabbed her wrist, eyes wide, flecks of copper dancing in and out. Her knuckles went even whiter than Jamie thought possible, and even her face seemed to lose color, which seemed impossible, given how deathly pale she already was. John seemed to tense beside Jamie as well, and he looked at him briefly, seeing panic on his face.
Louise tittered relentlessly, shaking her head. “A joke, ma chere! You know you love it when–”
Claire dropped her cards to put her other hand over Louise’s mouth, and she squeaked, still giggling under Claire’s hand. Claire hissed something inaudible into Louise’s ear, and she laughed ever harder.
“I apologize! I did not realize!”
Claire released Louise, shifting over a bit, clearing her throat. Jamie’s eyes snapped back and forth between them, eyebrows furrowed.
“Women,” John nudged him, forcing a laugh.
“Aye…” Jamie said, his brows still furrowed skeptically.
Claire was eyeing him nervously, unable to hide it if she tried.
Did Louise mean…she couldn’t possibly mean…
“It’s your move, Claire,” Louise closed the gap between them again, shoving her with her shoulder.
——
Jamie tried to forget what he’d heard, but was unable.
He was in the library with the wee French lad, reading aloud to him, and he knew John and Claire were otherwise occupied in their chambers. His mind kept wandering as he read, and before long, it seemed beyond inappropriate that he continue reading to the boy. Images of Claire’s face between Louise’s legs, pleasuring her as he did to Claire, all with John’s cock inside of Claire…it was too much. He needed to know.
“Excuse me, lad. I’ve just remembered something urgent I must ask Madame de La Tour.”
“Do not worry, Milord. I will hold the page until you return.”
“Good lad. Wait here.”
He ruffled the boy’s hair before striding through the library and into the hall. He barged into various rooms on the first floor, and was just about to give up, until two women appeared down the hall.
“Mister Fraser! What on Earth is all this fuss?” Geneva’s grating voice filled his ears.
“Louise,” Jamie called, relieved beyond reason that he was not alone with Geneva. “I must speak wi�� ye.”
“Whatever about?” Geneva blinked prettily.
“About something that doesna concern you, My Lady.”
Her eyes flashed indignantly, and she turned her nose up at him. “Very well.”
She stormed away, but Jamie was not satisfied. He shoved Louise into the nearest room, another office, likely Hal’s, and shut the door. She squeaked at the invasion, and huffed indignantly.
“What on Earth are you doing? Claire will not be pleased if—”
“I dinna want you, and ye willna bite me if ye ken what’s good for ye,” he added quickly, then lowered his voice, knowing how otherworldly his housemates’ senses of hearing were. He lit a lamp, and then turned back to her in the dim light. “No, I…I wanted to ask about what ye said before. During whist.”
“Oh,” she giggled. “What about it?”
“Ye…ye implied that…”
“Yes, I know what I implied.”
Jamie cleared his throat. “Then I’ll ask. How…how is it that ye…” He cleared his throat again. “What do ye all do together?”
Louise burst out into the most absurd laughter Jamie had ever heard, nearly doubling over.
“Will ye quiet down?” he hissed, more annoyed at her amusement than worried about somebody hearing them.
“Oh, you dear, dear boy…” She shook her head, still laughing. “Oh, my…well…we make love, Claire and I, and John watches.”
Jamie felt his mouth go dry, his eyes pop open. “Claire and…you?”
“Indeed,” she said mischievously, waggling her eyebrows. “Or they make love, and I watch. My favorite is getting to kiss her all over while he fucks her. She loves it.”
Jamie felt all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, and he shifted his stance uncomfortably. “Aye. Well…”
“I did not know she had not told you. Or I would not have joked in front of you.” She only seemed the slightest bit apologetic. “It was bound to come out eventually,” she shrugged.
“Eternity is a long time to only drink from one cup, Monsieur. If that is what concerns you.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Jamie said gruffly, remembering John’s careful metaphor over chess. No, it was not hard to believe that Claire enjoyed Louise that way, not if men could enjoy each other as such.
“She doesn’t…love you, does she?”
Louise snorted again, then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to keep laughing at you. You’re just so sweet.” She put her hand on her heart. “No, we are not in love. She is my dearest friend, and I am hers. And we bring each other much needed pleasure, and quite often. But I do not inspire the same fire that John does, that you do. And she does not inspire such in me.”
“I see.”
“People do not have to be in love to fuck, Monsieur Fraser.”
He cleared his throat, feeling his trousers strain. “Aye. I, ehm…see that now.”
She stifled another giggle.
“Do you and John…?”
She snorted. “God, no. I believe that Claire is the only woman he can…perform for.”
“I see.”
She grinned at him, squinting her eyes deviously. Why do you ask, Monsieur Fraser…?”
“Nothing. I…nothing.”
She giggled again, opening the study door, whispering, “Yes…I’m sure,” before slinking away.
Jamie grumbled, adjusting himself in his trousers before dousing the lamp and leaving the room.
Christ.
——
John was conducting business in his office while Jamie ate supper in the dining room, Claire right beside him, watching him eat. They’d gotten better at coexisting, but they’d also gotten better at finding times to let the other be alone with Claire. Supper was one of those times, given that John certainly didn’t need to eat, and Claire seemed to enjoy watching him, spending that time alone with him.
“What’s it like today?” she asked, prompting him to describe his meal as she always did.
“Oh, it’s verra tender,” he said, marveling. “A delightful roast beef. Cuts like butter. See that?”
Claire smiled. “And the potatoes? Are they sweet?”
“Oh, aye. Sweet and verra creamy.” He put a forkful in his mouth, and she beamed, watching him enjoy it. It took him a bit to get used to this, to someone watching his every move while he ate. It wasn’t only that she hadn’t eaten food in centuries, but that she knew he’d once been starving, and rejoiced in seeing him eat like a king.
Her taking joy in his comfort warmed him to his very core.
“Let me taste,” she purred, and he smirked, giving her his finger, which she poked a small puncture wound in, suckling gently.
“I swear I can taste butter,” she said, and he laughed out loud.
“Funny lass.” He shook his head, and then his stomach flipped again. The question had played itself over and over in his mind for every course of this meal, and yet it remained unsaid. He had no idea why he was so terrified. Was it her reaction? Her disgust and rejection of the idea?
Or was it the possibility that she’d say yes, wholeheartedly and excitedly?
“What?” Claire said, putting her thumb over the puncture wound to stop the bleeding, eyeing him with concern.
“Nothin’.”
He put another forkful of meat in his mouth, smiling, and she smiled back, though smaller, almost sadder.
Christ, one look, and he was undone.
“Would ye…” He cleared his throat. “Would it make ye happy if John…watched us?”
Claire made a horrifying choking noise, as if she’d been the one to just put food in her mouth. “Beg pardon?”
“The way that he watches you and Louise,” he went on, feeling himself turn bright red from head to toe. “That makes ye happy, no?”
She blinked several times, her jaw working. “Where on earth is this coming from…? Did Louise put you up to this? I swear to God…”
“Nobody put me up to anything, Claire.” He held her hand more tightly to keep her in her seat, and it worked, despite the fact that he had no physical power over her. “I just…I ken ye’re worried about John and I. Rightly so. And just…hearing Louise today got me thinking. I just…I want ye to be happy. I want ye to feel like we’re working together to make ye happy. I dinna want to be the reason that ye dinna get anything ye wish for.”
“Jamie…” She sighed, shaking her head, covering his hand with both of hers now. “I am happy. You make me happy. And John does too, which you know. And you…seem to be getting on better. Aren’t you?”
“Aye. We are.”
“Good.” She kissed his hand. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing, just because some of us…do it.”
“It wouldna be impossible to bear. No’ if it made ye happy.”
She bit her lip, her pupils dilating. “We don’t need to. It’s alright.”
Jamie could always, always see right through her. “But ye want to.”
She shook her head. “We don’t have to.”
“That’s no’ what I said. I said ye want to.”
She wet her lips with her tongue, pupils dilating even farther.
“I’ll let your husband watch me take ye, Claire. I’ll let him watch me bury my face in yer cunt, I’ll let him watch ye take my cock in those sweet lips. And ye’ll like it, won’t you?”
Her eyes glowed, and he could swear she’d start drooling any second. “I would. I would like that very much.”
He chuckled darkly, leaning forward and kissing her languidly, but sparingly. Teasing her.
“Then it is done.”
——
Jamie was hard before John even got there.
“There’s still time to change your mind,” Claire said, gently touching his hand.
He shook his head. “No. I want to give ye this.”
And that was the only reason he was doing it.
She squeezed his fingers, and then the door opened.
“Good evening,” John said, slipping in and shutting the door again.
“Hello,” Claire said, sounding breathless, though he knew she was not in need of breath.
Jamie and Claire sat on the bed, and John hovered near the door, staring at them as they stared back. Jamie felt dizzy.
John cleared his throat. “Where do you want me?”
Claire opened her mouth to reply, but apparently found herself at a lack of words. She turned to Jamie, bosom heaving. “Jamie?”
This was your bloody idea, she said with her eyes.
“You could…move one of the armchairs,” Jamie said. “There.” 
He gestured to the left of the enormous bed.
“Ye’re no’ to move,” Jamie said, voice husky. “She is mine tonight, and you are permitted to watch.”
“Of course.”
John sounded smooth as silk, entirely unfazed.
Jamie wanted to pummel him for it.
He sat gracefully in the armchair.
“Might I…pleasure myself? If I feel the urge.”
He felt Claire shudder beside him.
“Would that please ye, mo nighean donn? If your husband abused himself while I took ye?”
“Yes,” she choked out immediately, as if unable to stop herself.
Jamie closed his eyes, momentarily overcome.
“Then you are permitted,” Jamie relayed, and John nodded gracefully.
Jamie noticed, a bit belatedly, that John was already hard as well.
It shouldn’t have surprised Jamie. John apparently did this often, watched his wife make love to a woman.
But said woman was not in love with his wife. They were not eternally linked to one another. This should have been entirely different.
Perhaps Jamie should be less relaxed, as well.
He was about to let the man see him naked. His arse, his cock, every one of his muscles…and he knew the man enjoyed the sexual company of men as well as women.
That should have unnerved him, made him not want to do this.
Should have.
Rather than ponder that any further, Jamie tipped Claire’s face up to his and kissed her softly, gently. She was the one who deepened the kiss, mewling greedily into his mouth. She pulled his shirt off unceremoniously and began peppering his neck and chest with kisses, puncturing his left pectoral with her fang, and then taking the nipple into her mouth, going back and forth between drinking and teasing the nipple.
Christ, she knew he loved that.
He yanked her up by her hair to kiss her mouth again, fueled, as always, by the taste of his blood on her lips.
It was his turn to undress her, and he unlaced her bodice as he kissed the tops of her breasts, and Claire, impatient little vixen that she was, pulled her own breasts free the second the laces were loose enough to do so. And who was he to not oblige her? He gratuitously devoured both her nipples, savoring every glorious sound she made.
She began rucking up her skirts and spreading her legs, laying back, tugging on his hips.
“No, mo nighean donn,” Jamie growled, tightly gripping her wrists. “I intend to have ye naked.”
She whimpered in defiance, jerking her hips up to meet his, and he hissed as she grazed his cock through the layers of fabric between them.
“Ye’re a greedy, impatient wee beast.” He gathered her wrists into one hand and pinned them over her head, into the pillows, despite knowing she could throw him across the room if she wished. Jamie laid there, between her spread legs, holding her arms over her head, and turned his own head to look directly into John’s eyes.
“Is she this impatient, this desperate for you, John?”
John bit his lip, closing his eyes, brow furrowed, white-knuckling the arms of the chair.
He didn’t answer. Good. He knew it was meant to be rhetorical, that he was not to speak.
“Here.” Jamie obliged her just slightly, his hand disappearing up her skirts. She gasped the second his hand came in contact with the slippery folds. “Christ, Claire…d’ye get this wet for yer husband?”
She just moaned as he made slow, deliberate circles over that tiny wee spot that he knew drove her mad. He would not go the pace he knew she needed him to. Not yet. He dipped a single finger in, and she gave a jerky, throaty moan, but he pulled it out just as fast.
“See?” He held the finger up, glistening with her, looking into John’s eyes again. “See what I’ve done to your wife?”
“Dear God…” Claire moaned.
John remained frozen, though his cock was straining his trousers.
Jamie rolled Claire over so he could untie her skirts, and he discarded them all to the floor until only her chemise and drawers remained. She rolled back around to shimmy the drawers off, and then she sat up to allow Jamie to pull the chemise over her head.
Claire smiled triumphantly, knowing she was one step closer to what she really wanted.
But Jamie was not done.
They kissed, madly and deeply, and then Jamie was pushing her back into the pillows, and she whined, spreading her legs for him again. Instead of freeing his cock and obliging her, he kissed his way down her neck, chest, stomach, pelvis.
He didn’t know what overcame him; really, he didn’t.
He abruptly shifted her, and she squeaked. Her head now hung over the side of the bed, looking at John upside down, and Jamie kneeled on the other side. He tugged her again until she was right up against his face, and he looked right into John’s eyes as he ran his tongue over her cunt from bottom to top.
John finally made a noise; he groaned, deep and low, and his hand finally left the arm, palming himself over his trousers.
Good.
He maintained this eye contact as he feasted on her, as he tweaked her nipples, as she squealed and mewled and screamed until she finished.
And John did not break it either, moving his hand up and down over his hidden cock all the while.
Finally, finally satisfied, Jamie stood up. Claire smiled under her hooded eyes as Jamie removed his trousers. She sat up and took his hands, meaning to tug him back to the bed.
Jamie could not help it; he looked over at John again.
His eyes were that electric blue again.
And his cock— dear God, he’d freed it from his trousers, stroking it.
Jamie let Claire pull him back to the bed, and he was sweating and trembling. Claire pushed him into the pillows and positioned herself that she could look at John as she lowered her head to Jamie’s cock.
“Look at it, John,” she commanded huskily. She licked Jamie from base to tip.
Yes. Look at it, John. God, please.
Oh, he was.
John was transfixed, pumping himself faster and faster as Claire’s head bobbed up and down. She intermittently bit his thigh to drink, using the blood to pump him with her hand, and then taking him in to the hilt again.
John was moaning now, and Jamie damn near spilled his seed before he’d even been inside the woman.
He yanked her up by her hair to kiss her, and she giggled into the kiss, knowing she was finally going to be impaled with that cock she loved so much.
She allowed him to pin her into the mattress, and she pawed at his arse as she suckled blood from his lip.
“Look at him,” Jamie commanded. “Look him in the eye while I take ye.”
With some effort, Claire pulled her tongue away from Jamie’s mouth, turning her head to look at John. Jamie lined himself up, and thrust.
His own moan was indecipherable from John’s, loud and deep. He took her, and took her, deep and hard, and she cried out, rising to meet his every thrust.
“Oh…Jamie…”
He took her face in one hand and roughly turned her head to him again, making eye contact with John before kissing her deeply. The remaining eye contact through the rest of the act stayed between the two of them, but Jamie could still hear him.
Flesh rubbing flesh, moaning, grunting.
It was too much, and he spilled his seed in her all too soon, rubbing above where they were joined so she could go with him.
“Don’t finish,” Claire choked out, and when Jamie opened his eyes, he saw that she was looking at John again. Jamie watched as John struggled to stop his hand, gritting his teeth.
“Do you…want to watch us, Jamie…?”
She was looking in his eyes again, her own blazing copper.
She still hadn’t had enough.
The thought should have enraged him, filled him with jealousy.
But instead…the thought of seeing John, naked as he was, seeing what he looked like when he took her, what he did with his hands, his mouth, seeing what Claire looked like from far away while she was taken…
“Aye. I…I think I do.”
“God in Heaven,” John breathed.
Claire bit her lip and laughed beautifully, almost wickedly. As if this was what she had wanted all along.
And damn Jamie if he hadn’t walked right into her trap.
“You may stand up now,” she beckoned John. “And disrobe, fully. It’s only fair.”
Christ.
Why did a shuddering thrill run through Jamie?
“Move over.”
Jamie came back to earth after momentarily slipping out of his own body to find that Claire was shoving him over, making room for John.
They didn’t even want him off the damned bed…?
And then he saw that John was shirtless, and every other thought left his mind.
The twitch in his cock must have just been of anticipation of seeing Claire in the throes of passion again.
Must have.
“Go on, darling,” Claire cooed. “It’s alright.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed and he looked up at John.
He was nervous. Now he was nervous.
Nervous…for Jamie to see him…?
Jamie blinked stupidly several times, then wet his lips. “It’s alright,” he echoed, assuring him.
That gave John just enough boldness to drop his trousers.
The man’s cock was even bigger without the fabric around them.
“Here.” Claire took Jamie’s hand palm up, and bit into his wrist, drinking deeply. Jamie moaned, and he felt his half-hard cock cease its softening, growing again. She drank for a few more moments. “So you can enjoy yourself.”
She left him bleeding steadily from the wrist, turning to John to take his hands. She pulled him to the bed, and John groaned into a searing kiss. Jamie’s cock twitched again, and he was mesmerized by the way John’s bobbed up and down as he kissed Claire. Is that what Jamie’s looked like? That was what John saw…?
Claire mewled and laid down, pulling John’s face with her, and in an instant, he thrust home. Claire screamed impossibly loudly, considering she was about to find completion for the third time in a half-hour.
Jamie was staring at where they were joined, watching John’s white, smooth marble arse rise and fall with every thrust. They differed in that way; where Jamie thrust straight in and out, John rolled his hips, thrusting up and in. Claire mirrored him, rolling her own hips to meet him. It was beautifully erotic, like a dance only they knew the steps to.
They’d had two hundred years to perfect the knowledge of each other’s bodies.
Jamie let his eyes roam up the muscles of John’s back, and he momentarily watched Claire’s breasts bounce with each thrust. They were even more beautiful from this side of things.
And then his eyes landed on their faces, inches apart, and that was when he was unable to stop his hands from fisting his cock.
John’s face was contorted exquisitely, mouth stuck open, moaning with every thrust. It was higher pitched than it had been when he’d been pleasuring himself, Jamie noticed. Where Jamie grunted his moans out, John sighed, like he was singing, high note to low note, high to low, over and over.
Jesus…Jamie sped his hand on his cock.
John was on his elbows, his hands on Claire’s face, stroking every inch of it, and her hands were tugging on his hair. Even as he ploughed into her, his hands were gentle and tender on her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, her lips, her throat, her nose, every touch laden with utter love, like a sculptor creating the love of his life from clay.
They were so, so beautiful.
John’s moans reached new heights in pitch and volume, though none could be as loud as Claire’s. Only then did one of his hands leave her face, reaching down exactly as Jamie always did to assure that she finished with him. As John’s hand rubbed mercilessly, Claire arched her throat, screaming, and John fisted her hair.
Jamie sped his hand again, and then, he could swear they all finished together, given the cacophony of noise that filled the room.
Jamie was seeing stars, every inch of his skin blazing, dripping with sweat, his chest heaving with noisy breaths.
His vision returned to him slowly, the room around him blurring into focus. He turned his head and nearly jumped out of his skin.
The pair of them were staring at him, John still hovering over her, still inside her, her legs still wrapped around his waist.
They were like hunted animals, staring down the barrel of a gun, unblinking, unbreathing, unmoving.
Except, really, Jamie was the prey, and they the predators.
Jamie breathed for a few more moments, waited until he could see straight, until his chest stopped burning. He was aware suddenly of the stickiness coating his stomach, his own seed.
“Are ye…alright?” He couldn’t decide which of the two to look at.
“Are you?” Claire answered.
Jamie breathed for a second. “Aye.”
Claire gave him a tiny, tentative smile. “Did you…enjoy yourself?”
Her eyes flashed to the seed on his stomach, then back up into his face.
“Aye…I did.”
He meant it, wholeheartedly.
“I did too,” she whispered, reaching out to take his hand. Jamie’s eyes slid to John’s face in question.
“I…” he stammered in answer. “Yes. It was…enjoyable.”
Jamie’s heart tumbled.
“Will you sleep here…?” Claire inched closer to Jamie, and John rolled off of her, to the left, lying on his back, Jamie on the right, still sitting upright against the headboard. “You don’t have to. Or John could leave…”
“No…it’s…alright. He can stay.”
Claire’s eyes sparkled, her smile lighting her entire face. They’d already turned down the bed before John had even arrived, so Claire just pulled on Jamie’s bicep to get him to shimmy down until his head was on the pillow.
“Do you want the sheet?” she asked sweetly, rubbing her foot up and down his leg.
“Nah. Still rather…sweaty.”
She bit her lip, giggling. “Indeed.” She kissed him, then turned around so he was spooning her, nestling her perfect fat arse against his soft cock, and she pulled his arm around her, kissing their joined hands. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He kissed her temple, settling into the pillows, and he watched as she settled her head on John’s chest, draping her leg that was not entwined with Jamie’s around John’s waist.
Jamie’s eyes roamed up to John’s and they stared at each other for several heartbeats. The sound of a tender kiss to skin pierced the silence; Claire had kissed the very center of John’s chest.
And then, to his own amazement, Jamie smiled at John.
The man seemed to jerk a little in surprise, though he didn’t move an inch, and then he smiled back, warm and tender and genuine.
As Jamie slowly drifted off, John going in and out of focus as he breathed in Claire’s hair, he remembered what Claire had said all those weeks ago:
“If he hadn’t been killed, he’d still be here, with us. John would spend time in both of our beds, or maybe all of us in one…I don’t know.”
All of them in one.
Jamie finally understood the…benefit of that.
This is how it would have been; John in the middle, Hector and Claire obliging his happiness by lying with him, entwined together and yet separately, after they’d finished sharing him. 
Claire looked like a cat with her cream, entwined with both of her men, surrounded by them. And it warmed Jamie’s heart to see her so happy.
And then he remembered the smile on John’s face.
Yes…this…made sense.
Claire had been right.
It was much easier to share her this way.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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This is what happened in Jamaica:
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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reminder lmao need canon evidence?? RIGHT THERE
I fucking love that in Bees Jamie literally tells Claire that he is afraid that he might think of Lord John while he’s in bed with her.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Thinking about how "What has Hector ever done to me?" is still the most devastating line of literature ever written
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Pssssst
Jamie Fraser and Lord John fucked in Ireland, pass it on.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 10
Chapter 9
Read on AO3
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Jamie awoke with a fat wee bum nestled right against his hard cock, and he was in Heaven. Eyes still closed, he pulled his angel ever closer, inhaling that otherworldly scent in her hair, arching his hips further into the pliant flesh, feeling his cock twitch as he did so.
And then abrupt footsteps and a door opening jolted him to his senses.
He must have been dreaming, and he was still at Lallybroch with morning wood, being barged in on by his sister.
Only, when he opened his eyes, Claire was really there, naked in his arms, and there really was someone else in the room.
“Christ!” He yanked the sheets over both of them. “What the devil d’ye–?”
“God, I’m so sorry– I’d forgotten…”
“John! You’re back!”
Claire sat up, sheet falling to her waist, exposing her breasts, and Jamie fought the urge to cover them up again.
He also fought the urge to growl at the joy in Claire’s voice.
“Darling…I’m so sorry…” John stammered. “I didn’t think to knock on my own bedroom door…”
“Nor should you,” Claire said dismissively. Jamie would beg to differ. “It’s alright.”
“Mister Fraser– Jamie. Forgive me.”
Jamie’s eyes were narrowed at him, but he couldn’t claim that the man wasn’t mortified. Though he could not blush, Jamie saw evidence of humiliation in his very stature, in the way his eyes settled on everything but the two people in bed.
“I only came to remove my traveling clothes and to greet my wife,” he stammered. “I’d truly forgotten.”
“Aye. So ye’ve said.”
“Jamie…” Claire whispered, rubbing his bicep and kissing his shoulder.
As much as her touch soothed him, it did nothing to stop the discomfort.
And of course, his cock was standing at attention, tenting the sheet.
What the bloody hell had his life come to…letting another man see his cock hard for the man’s wife?
“I’ll…go.”
Jamie grunted his approval.
“Darling…” Claire called out, her voice small and timid. John stopped, turning his body, but still not letting his eye meet either of theirs. Claire’s hand reached for his, and John reluctantly obliged. Claire reverently kissed his knuckles, and Jamie felt himself turn red from head to toe. “It’s good to see you.”
John nodded, smiling tightly. “It’s good to be home.” He chastely kissed her cheek, and then he swiftly left the room, the door shut before Jamie could even blink.
“Jamie, I’m so sorry–”
He silenced her with a searing kiss, and she whimpered in shock, but melted into him. She allowed him to pin her down, and she took his powerful thrust in stride, crying out loudly.
Good.
He pulled out and then thrust deep, exactly the way he knew would make her scream again.
Let him hear you.
He did this as many times as he could bear, and then he had to let his body take over his mind. Because he wanted her to keep screaming, he threw one of her legs over his shoulder, he roughly pinched her nipple, he rubbed above where they were joined, until they both finished, hard and loud.
Him perhaps a bit louder than he normally would allow.
He panted after his release, then kissed his way down her leg, and then kissed her mouth, licking every inch of it. She hummed in contentment, then pulled away.
“Now, as much as I enjoyed that…” They lay on their sides, facing one another. “That seemed…provoked.”
Jamie felt himself burning with shame. Now that all his blood wasn’t in his cock he could think a bit straighter. Before he’d left for home, they’d had a very clear conversation about how John would be in her life forever.
“Aye. It was. And I ken what we spoke about,” he added before she could cut in, because he could see she was about to. “But I didna agree to him coming in here while we’re bloody naked together.”
“No, you didn’t. And I’m sorry. It really was an honest mistake.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She was far too terrible a liar.
“Next time, we should perhaps do this in a guest suite. So we’re not in his bedroom.”
“Aye, and dinna tell him which suite.”
“Jamie!”
“Believe what ye bloody want about his intentions,” Jamie grumbled.
“I will.” Her eyes turned that frightening copper that only appeared when she was incensed, and Jamie immediately regretted his tone.
He sighed, kissing her amendingly. “Apologies. Ye didna agree to my insulting yer husband.”
“No, I did not.” Her tone was still sharp, but her eyes swam amber again.
Terrible liar.
He kissed her again, and he chuckled when she melted against him, breasts pillowing against his chest.
Like putty in my hands.
He jolted a little as her fang gave his bottom lip a tiny puncture, and she giggled erotically, sucking on the lip like a nursing infant.
He wondered if he’d ever get used to that.
He let her drink, and, to his surprise, that’s all it was, just lazy kissing, the occasional sweet moan from his lass as she swallowed his blood.
She finally pulled away, licking his lip for good measure.
“Tell me about your time with your family.”
Jamie smiled fondly, if not a bit sadly. “It was wonderful to see them again.”
“They were happy to see you?”
“Aye. And none too pleased I wanted to leave again so soon.”
She frowned, tracing the lines of his face with her fingerpads. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I made my choice.”
She pecked his nose and ran the backs of her fingers over his stubble.
“They figured out I’d met someone.”
Claire raised her brow. “Oh?”
“My sister…well, I canna verra well describe her. Ye’d have to meet her. She’s…stubborn as an ass, fierce as a lion, a nosy wee busybody…”
“She sounds a bit like you.”
“Och, if ye think that, ye’ll be quite surprised by the…intensity of it in her when ye meet her. If ye meet her, I mean.”
She offered a tiny smile. “I’d like to, Jamie. If it’s possible, I want to.”
He hummed contentedly. “Aye, well…I’d been in the house for all of an hour, when she just blurts out, ‘So, brother, who is it?’”
Claire’s eyes sparkled with mirth, her mouth curving.
“Of course I tried to redirect her, ye ken, tried denying it…but in the end, she said, ‘I ken you better than I ken myself, and I ken when my brother is in love.’”
“Oh my.”
“Aye. Well…I told them ye were a beautiful, otherworldly creature far above my station,” he said. “Which is true, mind.”
“Indeed.”
“Well, I also told them ye were betrothed to another.”
“Also rather true.”
“Indeed,” Jamie said wryly, and Claire lightly smacked his upper arm. “And, of course, my sister went on a bloody tirade. She demanded to know if I bedded ye.”
“Jesus Christ! As if that’s any of her business!”
“Aye, well, what did I tell ye?”
“What did you say?”
“I said of course I didna, that I wouldna do such a thing wi’out marriage, and of course I wouldna covet another man’s betrothed…”
“And she saw right through you, didn’t she?”
“Aye, of course…” He sighed, flopping onto his back. Claire wiggled up to his chest, folding her hands atop his pectoral and resting her chin there. “She chewed my ear off for the better part of an hour.”
“Good Lord…”
“She was crying, in the end.”
“Crying?”
He sighed. “She practically raised me, ye see. Though she’s only two years older. The day after our mother died, I found her in the kitchen, standing on a stool, wi’ mother’s apron on. Only ten years old. She loves fiercely, and cares wi’ all her heart. And she’s only ever wanted my happiness.”
Claire smiled sadly.
“And her anger wasn’t shame, no’ at all. It pained her to know I couldna have the one I loved. ‘How could ye be such a damned fool? Giving yer heart to a bloody coquette who’d take ye to bed and toss ye aside?’”
“That is not true,” Claire asserted, copper glowing in her eyes.
“Calm down, mo nighean donn. She doesna ken the whole truth.”
“Of course not; but it doesn’t feel very good that your sister thinks I’m a heartless whore.”
He chuckled. “Dinna fash. If she ever meets ye, she’ll see the truth of who ye are.”
She sighed, turning her head so her cheek rested on his chest. “What did that mean?”
“Hm?”
“What you just called me.”
“Oh. Means ‘my brown-haired lass’.”
Her face melted into the prettiest damned smile he’d ever seen. “That’s lovely.”
He sat up, taking her with him, and kissed her soundly. He threaded his fingers into those beautiful brown curls, wishing he could take root there. Claire pulled away, and then she frowned.
“Your neck needs some salve.”
“Nah, it’ll bide.”
“It will not.” She tossed away the sheets and marched over to the washing station, fully naked. Jamie sat back, watching her apprasisingly, a stupid grin on his face. She walked back toward the bed with a damp rag.
“What are you smirking at?”
“I like watching ye parade around naked. Can ye do it again?”
She smacked the wet rag on one of his pectorals, causing a loud slapping sound. He chuckled, but he allowed her to clean his wounds and apply the salve.
“You know…” she began after a bit of silence. “I was thinking.”
Jamie cocked one brow at her. “Aye?”
“I know it isn’t easy for you to…well, let’s say it like it is. To share me.”
Jamie grunted, frowning.
“But…” She dabbed salve onto his neck, pushing on his forehead to keep his head at the right angle. “I think it might be easier if you got to know John a little better.”
“What’s there to know?”
“What a silly thing to say.” She released his head. “He’s an entire person. There’s plenty of things to know.”
He hmphed again, and Claire giggled.
“You’re a little imp, aren’t you?” She moved to a wound on his shoulder, applying salve. “He enjoys chess. You do too, don’t you?”
He grunted.
“You’re going to be living here, Jamie. Indefinitely. You’re going to have to spend time with him eventually. And I think you’d quite enjoy his company. He’s a good man. You’re more similar than you think you are.”
He sighed. “I ken he’s a good man.”
“At least there’s that.” She set the salve aside. “Will you try, Jamie?” She leaned in and tenderly kissed his cheek, stroking the other with her deft, dainty fingers.
“For me?”
He looked into those honey eyes, and was immediately undone.
He’d do anything for her.
Damn it.
“Aye. I’ll try. For you.”
Her eyes lit up, and she kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Come. Let’s dress.”
“Ye meant right now?”
“I want to work in my garden anyway. I was far too distracted when you were gone to do it, and I’m sure it’s rather neglected. That’s more than enough time for a match or two of chess.”
She hopped out of bed again, and Jamie could swear she let her arse sway back and forth just the slightest bit more than it did naturally.
She was truly something else.
— —
“Your move.”
John looked up from the board, squinting his eyes at Jamie, sapphires that winked at him on their own. It lasted a mere second before he was examining the board again, and then he threw up his hands in defeat. He made a move that both men knew was sacrificial, but there was no way around it.
Jamie was cool as anything, making his next move without a second thought, now only one move away from winning.
He wasn’t cool, though, not at all.
The game had been going for nearly an hour, and they’d managed small talk over the make of the board and the pieces, over the whisky, over the bloody carpets and tapestry. They were in John’s study, surrounded by shelves of books, in darkness, of course, playing by generous candlelight.
Jamie knew his face twitched whenever John said Claire’s name; he couldn’t help it. And he knew John could see it.
Claire was right: he was a good, honorable man, and the longer Jamie spent with him, he could clearly see it.
But all the same, his understanding of how this could all be did not become any clearer.
“I’m sorry again, by the way,” John said, abruptly, ignoring his imminent demise on the chess board. “For this morning.”
Jamie nearly choked on the sip of whisky he’d taken to take his thoughts away from that morning.
“Apologies,” John said, stifling a snicker. “That was not my intention.”
Jamie hummed gruffly, wiping a bit of dripping from his chin with the end of his sleeve.
“Aye, well…it’s your house.”
And your wife, he left unsaid.
“Yes, well, it’s yours now as well.”
He was still getting used to that.
He’d barely gotten used to waking up in Lallybroch instead of his cot in the print shop, let alone this ornate mansion full of finery even his most fortunate, pre-Jacobite ancestors could not afford.
“As is Claire.”
Jamie smiled tightly, not meeting his eye.
“You’re allowed to speak of her to me, you know.”
Jamie flicked his eyes back and forth from the board to John’s face, unable to keep them on either for more than a half second at a time.
“I, of all people, know what it is to love her. To be utterly enchanted by her. Everything about her.”
Damn Jamie if he didn’t need to adjust himself in his trousers.
“Aye.”
“And I remind you that I want this for you both.”
He nodded stiffly. “Aye.”
“Jamie. Look at me, for Christ’s sake.”
He finally did, feeling his face burning hot.
“I bear no jealousy toward you.” His face was so gentle and kind that Jamie didn’t even think to question the truth of his words. “And I understand if you bear some for me.”
“I…”
“Let’s be candid,” he went on, leaning away from the table. “I have hundreds of years with her. Hundreds of years more than you have with her. Legally, she is Lady Grey. That’s bound to make any lover irate.”
Jamie gripped his whisky glass until his knuckles went white.
“My point in saying this, is that I hope you know I understand. And I don’t mind. And I…I pray you’ll be more comfortable here soon.”
“Christ.” Jamie tossed back the rest of his whisky, setting it down a bit harder than he’d intended. “How?”
“How…?”
“How are ye so…?” He gestured stupidly with both hands. He sighed, knowing he was not being very clear at all. “Ye have hundreds of years wi’ her, aye? Well, even if I had that, and hundreds more, I couldna so easily bear sharing her heart. And you…ye havena just shared a heart. Ye’ve shared your own heart.”
John’s face changed imperceptibly, the color of his eyes shifting. “I have.”
“How?” Jamie said again, desperate to understand. “Especially…well…any man I’ve kent wi’ yer…sensibilities…wouldna be caught dead wi’ a lass. To put it plainly.”
John chuckled softly through his nose, the corners of his mouth tugging up, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Not everyone with my sensibilities, as you put it, favors men over women. It is possible to favor both.”
Jamie knew his face was incredulous, and was further convinced when John laughed again.
“It isn’t so complicated. Not really,” John said softly. “It isn’t as if I had any control over it. One day, I didn’t love Claire, and then the next, I did. One day I didn’t love Hector, and then the next, I did.”
Jamie supposed he could understand that at least. One day, he’d been covered in ink, no one but Geordie for company, and the next, there was an ethereal goddess in the apothecary. One day, he had his heart, and the next, he hadn’t.
He nodded. “What…is it like…? To love more than one?”
John’s smile remained, but it turned a bit sad. “You’d think it would feel strange,” he said, his voice a reverent whisper. “But it didn’t. Not at all. It was as natural as sipping from two glasses, and loving the taste of each wine all the same. Of course they’re different flavors, perhaps one is more sweet, one makes one more lightheaded…but you love them all the more for their differences.”
“Ye drank from Hector.”
Jamie knew that John’s metaphor was not meant to have been literal, but his mind went there nonetheless.
“I did.”
“Was he your…mate? In that way? As I am Claire’s?”
“He was.”
“You truly loved him.”
John looked up, his pupils blown wider than they’d ever been, the pain in his face enough to break Jamie’s heart.
“Of course I did.”
Until that moment, Jamie did not believe a man could love another man the way God had made him to love a woman. The thought had never occurred to him.
And then he thought of his bond with Claire snapping, of feeling her being taken from this world, of going on without her, eternally. And he saw his own imagined pain projected right onto John’s face.
And he knew it was possible, of course it was possible.
“I…I’m sorry, John.”
John nodded, rolling one of Jamie’s taken knights in his left hand, as if to soothe himself.
“Truly. It…It must have been a terrible loss.”
John nodded, staring blankly at the squares on the chess board, rolling and rolling the piece in his hand. “It was.”
Something cracked open in Jamie’s chest, something he could not identify. And something took over his body, something else he could not identify.
Or perhaps it was the same thing.
He reached across the chess table and covered John’s hand with his own. It was ice cold, as Claire’s always were. And his hand dwarfed John’s, rather comically. It was odd to think that he was a creature of inhuman strength, capable of dismembering Jamie with little to no effort, and yet, Jamie’s hand could cover his twice over.
It, astoundingly, made Jamie want to laugh, almost giggle.
He didn’t though, just tightened his grip until John stopped fiddling with the knight. He realized, a bit belatedly, that John had been staring at their joined hands since the very second Jamie had made contact. After what seemed like eternity, he looked up, and Jamie fought the urge to jump.
In the way that Claire’s eyes turned a copper-orange when the amber burned with intensity, John’s sapphire-blue was now electric, like when lightning struck an otherwise clear night sky, coloring the entire atmosphere for a split second. Only, in John’s eyes, the color lasted, and it burned.
Christ, how it burned.
“Thank you, Jamie.”
John’s voice sounded tight, though Jamie knew he could not cry.
Jamie suddenly did not care to beat the man, though the win was right there for the taking.
“Thank you.”
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
Note
The real kicker, I guess, is that I have mutuals and friends that still support this person, when they have not used their platform for any good but what will benefit themself. And that’s why I felt the need to say something. I don’t give a shit what this person says or does. But clueless majorities mindlessly following just...bother me. For valid reason. And now I’m done speaking on this publicly. Like I said, DM me if you’re not satisfied.
The hate that you and other queer OL fans/writers get is clearly unconscionable. But can I ask why this feels linked to the fundraiser issue for you? At least among those I follow, there's been support for both, so I'm confused by the idea that people are taking sides or only speaking out on one topic. Is there something that happened before to make it feel like an either/or thing?
Among those I follow, there have also been support for both. Which like, yeah that's great.
My issue is that somebody with a platform that enormous to be able to raise thousands, literal thousands of dollars in less than a week, can make a huge difference. Someone with that much reach and that big of a voice can really make a difference in the lives of an oppressed minority.
A campaign led by this person, or other large accounts, could reach thousands of people and perhaps make a huge change in the environment for queer people in the fandom.
But this person does not care, and has made that ABUNDANTLY clear to me and those I love. I don't need to explain that any further. If you truly need to know specifics, you can come off anonymous and DM me on twitter, because that's clearly where you are coming from.
5 notes · View notes
let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
Note
The hate that you and other queer OL fans/writers get is clearly unconscionable. But can I ask why this feels linked to the fundraiser issue for you? At least among those I follow, there's been support for both, so I'm confused by the idea that people are taking sides or only speaking out on one topic. Is there something that happened before to make it feel like an either/or thing?
Among those I follow, there have also been support for both. Which like, yeah that's great.
My issue is that somebody with a platform that enormous to be able to raise thousands, literal thousands of dollars in less than a week, can make a huge difference. Someone with that much reach and that big of a voice can really make a difference in the lives of an oppressed minority.
A campaign led by this person, or other large accounts, could reach thousands of people and perhaps make a huge change in the environment for queer people in the fandom.
But this person does not care, and has made that ABUNDANTLY clear to me and those I love. I don't need to explain that any further. If you truly need to know specifics, you can come off anonymous and DM me on twitter, because that's clearly where you are coming from.
5 notes · View notes
let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
Text
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 9
Chapter 8
Read on AO3
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Claire was pacing in the drawing room, back and forth, back and forth.
“If it’s very much longer, you’ll have to tie me up.”
“Now, now,” Louise tutted. “That’s in your head. Two weeks is not so very long. It’s only because you know it’s the end of the last day.”
“And because Johnny isn’t here,” Isobel supplied. “I know he was a great help to you.”
Claire let out a frustrated growl, animalistic in nature. Something that would have frightened Jamie if he were here.
Jamie.
“There’s more pig’s blood,” Louise said. “I’ll let you lick it off my nipples if you want.”
Claire buried her face in her hands, swallowing thickly. The idea was tempting. Yes, John had been helpful, as had Louise, and hell, even Isobel. John had let Claire have her way with him the whole two weeks, with and without animal blood involved. She’d smeared it all over his chest, his cock, his lips, and licked it off like the savage she was. They’d brought in Louise when she was particularly insatiable, and then when John and Hal had left for business the previous night, Louise brought Isobel in. The three of them had only been together once, and that had been years ago. Hal didn’t like to share.
But what Hal didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
Now, Claire wanted to cry at the thought, and she would if she could.
“I don’t want fucking pig’s blood,” she spat. “And I don’t want you either.”
Louise sighed.
“I’m sorry…” Claire amended, the edge still in her voice. “I know you mean well.”
“No, I understand.”
“All I can bloody think about is his cock…”
“Isobel can use the godemiché again…”
“No!”
Isobel actually jumped, the poor thing.
“I want him. Nothing else will work anymore! Don’t you understand?” She gripped tufts of hair, then immediately regretted mussing her hair, knowing he’d be back soon. “We’d get into it, I’d have your face in my cunt and blood in my throat and I’d never actually finish. And then I’d start breaking furniture out of frustration.”
“Mon Dieu,” Louise sighed. “You really are too far gone.”
“Fucking yes!” Claire spat. “Fuck!”
“Your hair, dear. Do you want me to fix it?” Isobel offered timidly.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
“Come here. It’s alright.”
Claire scampered over to her shamefully, much like a dog with its tail between its legs.
“You want to look your best when he comes back to you, don’t you?” Isobel crooned, not unlike a mother, or an older sister.
Claire nodded mutely, desperately trying to calm herself. Louise took one of her hands and kissed a trail all the way up to her neck. Against her will, she relaxed into each kiss, savoring the feeling of soft skin in the crook of her neck.
And yet, she longed for his harsh stubble.
There had been days where Claire had been with John, and she longed for the softness of Louise, the pillows of her breasts, the wetness of her cunt.
Today was unfortunately not one of those days.
“It will be alright,” Louise breathed against her skin. “It will be over soon.”
Isobel nodded, pushing pins back into place.
“Your eyes are not a good color,” Isobel said. “You really should have pig’s blood. Just a little bit.”
“I’ll gag,” Claire said, rather petulantly.
“Yes, well, it won’t actually come back up. And you know that.” Louise left her side, standing up to fill a glass for her. “Just a little bit.”
Claire grimaced, taking the glass. “Just a little bit.”
She stared at it, waiting for the bloodlust to become so unbearable that drinking it would be more of a relief than a chore. She finally downed it in one swig, and she did, in fact, gag.
“Good girl,” Louise crooned, patting her cheek. “Think of how much sweeter he’ll taste after that.”
Claire nodded, her face still scrunched up in disgust.
“Do you at least feel a little better?” Isobel rubbed her knee.
“A bit.”
Isobel smiled sweetly, then chastely kissed her cheek. “Just think, Claire. How wonderful it is to have something that makes being parted from it so terrible.”
Claire met her eye, smiling reluctantly. “It is…refreshing. To say the least.”
“Life-affirming, I’d say,” Isobel added.
“Yes…life-affirming.” Claire’s soul felt lighter.
“It can be so tedious,” Louise sighed. “Eternity.”
The other women nodded in agreement.
“I won’t say I’m not jealous,” Louise went on. “Not of him,” she giggled. “I know I’ll have you either way.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Claire said. “I haven’t mentioned that to him yet.”
“Well, he’s done well with the other shocks thus far,” Isobel said, stifling her own giggle. “I’m sure he’ll take that in stride as well.”
As if to assert herself, Louise nipped at Claire’s earlobe, and she squealed, swatting at her.
“But, no…jealous of you,” Louise went on. “I’ve had drop after drop of man after man…and nothing has ever snapped into place like it has with you.”
“In truth, I’m almost glad,” Isobel confessed. “After Hector and John…I can’t imagine having the bond and then it just…snapping. I’m not strong enough.”
Claire felt her dead heart drop into her stomach.
“Not that anything will happen to your Jamie!” Isobel stammered. “I didn’t mean…!”
“No…I couldn’t bear it either,” Claire said, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know how John did it. I’d beg him to rip my head from my fucking shoulders if something happened to Jamie.”
“Well, it won’t,” Isobel amended quickly, clearly not wanting to discuss someone taking Claire out of this world. “All I meant was I’d be so afraid every moment, I couldn’t appreciate it. You know me. Always fretting.”
Fuck, she needed him. She needed him next to her, safe and alive and whole.
Nothing was wrong. She’d instantly know if his life was ended. She’d feel it, sharper than a knife and more scorching than the pyre from years ago.
But anything could happen any second. She needed him with her, his warmth, his pulse. She needed to preserve it. For as long as she could.
“I’ve made it worse again,” Isobel squeezed Claire’s hand. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“No, no…” She shook her head. “I just…I need him.”
“I know.”
And then, like a miracle, she heard a carriage.
It was probably a mile away, but she heard it.
“Do you–”
“I do.”
They all three stood up and scampered into the main hallway, heels clicking on the marble. Geillis and Mary came shortly after, still wearing sunhats, gloves and aprons, having been in the greenhouse. Geillis and Claire had been teaching Mary herbs. The poor thing’s hands were too unsteady for needlework and she was hopeless with music. The past week, Claire had had to avoid the girl like the plague; she was still newly turned, and having her bloodlust near Claire’s withdrawal would have been a recipe for disaster, so Geillis had blessedly kept her away and out of anyone’s hair. The Comte appeared next, at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, and then Geneva’s piano stopped, and she scampered into the hall as well. Isobel’s head turned sharply at that, and Claire was glad of it. If she could stop staring at the door, she’d warn the bitch herself.
Claudel appeared seemingly from thin air. “I checked a window in a different room, Milady,” which he’d done to avoid burning anyone in this room, “and it is him.”
Claire could swear she was floating.
“Ah, cherie!” Louise grasped her hands.
Claire licked her lips.
“You look beautiful. He will nearly faint when he sees you.”
Claire nodded dumbly, still staring at the door.
“You are going to pounce him the second he comes through that door, aren’t you?”
Claire nodded again.
Louise giggled. “Come. Let us go to your room.”
Louise had to use significant force to uproot Claire from her spot.
“Everyone else, back to your business!” Louise commanded. “None of this concerns any of you!”
“You heard her, sister,” Isobel hissed.
As Claire was dragged up the stairs, she heard Geneva and Isobel whispering harshly to one another, all while scuttling and huffing their way into the music room, the door shutting loudly behind them. Mary and Geillis must have returned to the greenhouse, and the Comte–
“Excuse me, Monsieur,” Louise said, none too kindly. He was still standing at the top of the stairs. “I can assure you, you do not want to be between Claire and the boy when he crosses the threshold.”
“But of course,” he said, a sickening smile on his face.
“And I’ll thank you not to stand outside the door,” Claire hissed. “Pervert.”
“As if we will not hear you either way?”
Claire growled, but Louise gave a fierce tug. “Not worth it, ma chere. You will have him soon, and you will forget all else.”
And yet, for a moment, Claire could not shake the chill that the Comte’s chuckle sent down her spine.
Louise shoved Claire through her bedroom door, and only then did her body sing with thrill.
“What if I bloody kill him?” Claire panicked. “I could suck him dry.”
“You won’t.” Louise shook her head, laughing. “I promise, he will be just as eager as you. You look ravishing. I’m sure he is already hard as marble.”
“Louise…”
She simply winked, giggling deviously. “I will await him in the hall, lead him straight to you. It won’t be long now.”
Claire felt her vision darkening. She could fucking smell him already.
She took to pacing again, occasionally checking her hair and the folds of her gown, before realizing how bloody silly that was, considering all she wanted was for Jamie to rip her garments off of her and completely ruin her hair.
Perhaps she should be waiting for him naked.
She honest to God began undoing her laces when the front door opened.
She had to physically brace herself on one of the bedposts to stop herself from tearing through the hall, throwing herself down the stairs, and tossing him onto the marble and having him there.
“She’s waiting for you upstairs, mon cher.”
“Oh, aye. Thank ye.”
Her whole body vibrated with a violence she didn’t know she had within her.
His voice! My god!
She heard each step on the stairway. All twenty-eight of them.
She counted.
“She has missed you dearly.”
“And I her.”
My darling! My absolute love!
She couldn’t stand it. She released the bedpost and flung herself toward the open door–
And right into a large, solid chest.
“Claire.”
All of the hair on Claire’s body stood on end, her hormones spiked. She inhaled deeply, craning her neck to get her face out of his chest and into his neck.
“Jamie.”
Louise was right. He was already hard as marble.
Rather brutally, Claire tore him out of the doorway and slammed him against the wall, needing leverage. He grunted with the impact in a way that sent heat all the way downward. Louise, without any noise, shut the door behind them and presumably ran as far away as possible.
Claire continued inhaling that heavenly scent of his, then she began whimpering.
“Take it,” he breathed huskily. “I ken ye need it.”
And before he could even finish speaking, her teeth were in his flesh. He groaned, and Claire sobbed with relief, drinking like she never had before. Her body hummed, sang, rejoiced. She felt him raining kisses down on the crown of her head, felt him weaving his fingers through her hair, heard pins clattering to the floor as he did so.
Yes. Ruin me.
His hands ran up and down her back, tried to grip her arse through all those absurd layers of clothing.
“Rip it.”
“What…?”
Claire licked the wounds, unable to stop tasting him for even a moment. “Rip it off. I don’t care.”
He made a baffled, bewildered sound, rather adorable if you’d asked Claire. But she was not looking for adorable at the moment. She pulled back only for a moment, his blood dripping down her chin. She dug her nails into her bodice and tore, all too easily. He gasped minutely, and then he gulped, his eyes darkening.
She dove in for his neck again, moaning in bliss to swallow him down, and Jamie continued what she’d started, tearing at the gown anywhere he could reach. Every new inch of skin that was exposed to his burning hot hands was fucking heavenly.
“Claire…please…”
She immediately pulled away, horrified, terrified that she’d taken too much, that he was faint.
“Let me kiss ye, lass. Let me taste you.”
Claire sighed with relief, grasped his face in her hands, and kissed him with bruising force. He moaned loudly into her mouth, plunging his tongue inside, and Claire relished in the whimper he let out when she snagged her tooth on it. She drank and they kissed, and he tore at her many layers of skirts and then finally, finally her drawers.
Claire roughly seized his wrists, stopping him from ripping them, though it would be all too easy. She sucked gratuitously on his bottom lip, which she’d also managed to puncture.
“Fuck me, Jamie. Now.”
She surrendered to him, letting herself go boneless and weightless, pretending she had not an ounce of strength, though she could throw him out the window if she so pleased. He lifted her up and threw her onto the bed, and she spread her legs, hooking her fingers in his trousers. She easily tore them, and she giggled mercilessly at his wide eyed gaping.
It lasted only a fraction of a second, however, because then he was bare from the waist down, and he wasted no time in crawling over her, lining himself up, and piercing deep and hard.
She screamed, her neck fully arched, nails dug into his perfect arse.
“Oh, lass…I thought I’d die if I went another day wi’out this…”
“You have no idea…” she muttered, bringing his face down to kiss him, to take in some of the blood still leaking from his lip, his tongue. He pulled all the way out, and then slammed back in, and she moaned loudly into his mouth, nails digging into his cheeks.
He did it again, and their mouths fell apart, so Claire’s cry rang out around them. “Oh…” she moaned. “My darling…my love…”
“My love…” Jamie repeated reverently, up on his elbows, cupping her cheek. “My love.”
It was as if he’d convinced himself it had been a dream, and he was realizing for the first time that yes, the woman who’d said I love you was real. And the words were meant, and true.
Claire turned her head to kiss his palm, and then she snapped her teeth at his finger, suckling it greedily.
“You’re perfect…” she whimpered. “Please…please…”
And he knew what she meant.
He pistoned his hips now, not holding back, able to move faster on his elbows. She drank and drank from his finger, and he fucked her and fucked her incredibly, until she was screaming to the heavens. His hand left her mouth then, and she felt herself tense as he touched her there, just like she’d taught him, and rubbed in merciless circles.
It was when she realized she was feeling his blood there that she fully clenched around him, ecstasy clouding her every thought, stars blurring her vision. She heard him cry out loudly, felt him shoot inside her, and then he collapsed on top of her. She thought she wouldn’t be able to move, but as if it were a reflex, she wrapped her arms around him, as her legs already were, and she dug her teeth into his shoulder, as his dug into her neck.
They remained as such for an indeterminable amount of time, her drinking calmly, him nibbling and licking and kissing, latched and joined together, until he was softening inside her.
He regained some of his composure and leaned up on his elbows, and Claire focused her bleary vision on his darling face.
“Hello, lass.” He cupped her face, and Claire felt his warm blood from his finger gently pool on the apple of her cheek.
“Hello.” She rubbed his triceps, up and down, reveling in the warmth. He bent down and kissed her, gently for the first time. And, despite the thrill that she felt tasting blood in his mouth, she allowed it to remain gentle, soft and languid, tongues sloppily dancing.
Their mouths parted and Claire whined, but only until she realized his intentions. She smiled as his mouth traveled downward, and he finally slipped out of her on the journey. He kissed the swells of her breasts poking out of her stays and then he bit, none too gently, and Claire squeaked, arching her back.
“Aye, ye’re no’ the only one that bites.”
That made her impossibly wet.
He carefully undid her laces, which was hilariously ridiculous after the carelessness with which the rest of her clothes had been treated. Yet he was almost reverent as the laces passed through each hole, loosening and loosening until it fully opened, and he tossed the laces over his shoulder. Claire arched her back so he could slide it out from under her and discard it on the floor as well. Claire tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he smirked, lifting his arms and allowing her to toss it aside. Before she could fully admire him, he returned to his task, lowering her chemise until her nipples were exposed, and she sighed in ecstasy as he devoured each one in turn.
It wasn’t until his fingers trailed downward that Claire even realized she’d been bucking her hips into the air. His fingers paled in comparison to his cock, but she moaned when he plunged them inside her nonetheless, and then whimpered at the loss when he pulled them back out. He was gathering moisture.
He massaged and fucked her with his hand until she was screaming and clenching again, all the while he bit and suckled at her breasts. He really was too good at that, for someone who’d only just learned. 
“Dear God…” she whimpered.
He hummed, satisfied with himself, and he silenced her by putting his fingers in her mouth, deliberately puncturing the middle one on her fang. The combined taste of his blood and her cunt was indescribably erotic.
By now, the fabric around the opening of her drawers was soaked, and they were entirely too uncomfortable to keep on. She slid her chemise the rest of the way down her body and kicked it away, and then she sat up, getting onto her knees. She felt wobbly, and was momentarily amazed that this man could do that to her; she was unbreakable, after all.
She turned around and wiggled her arse, and she heard Jamie growl.
“Go on. I know you want to.”
And then his hands were upon her, untying her drawers, and exposing her arse inch by inch.
“Christ…” The fabric pooled around her knees, and he roughly squeezed her, one cheek in each hand. “I canna believe how bonny it is…”
She giggled darkly, arching her back to lean into the touch. 
“Here…” She bent over, getting onto her hands and knees. “Get them off.”
He obeyed, sliding the drawers all the way off, and now they were both finally fully naked. He groaned again, squeezing mercilessly.
“Smack it.”
He choked.
“I mean it. You’ll like it. Maybe as much as I like it.”
He gulped and obeyed, rather tamely.
“Don’t be gentle, Jamie. Hit me.”
He did, and she cried out, aching deliciously. She knew he was watching the way the fatty flesh rippled and bounced.
“Ye alright…?”
“Yes, yes…do whatever you want with me…”
He smacked the other cheek, hard. He moaned. “Oh, lass…”
“Now kiss it…to apologize for your brutish behavior.”
He sounded like he choked again, but this time he did not hesitate. He gratuitously kissed each cheek, over and over, leaving no inch of it untouched by his lips, and Claire arched her back until her cunt was right in his face. He took the cue beautifully, and he began to service her the way he’d been taught, squeezing and rubbing and even smacking her arse all the while. She finished much too quickly, wanting to savor this position for longer. But they had eternity for that.
Before she could gather her senses, he was fucking her in that position. She hadn’t even realized he’d been ready again. He was gripping her arse so hard, she’d bruise if she could. She was now fully doubled over, face in the mattress, and she was once again grateful she had no need to breathe. She turned her head as much as she could and was overwhelmed with lust at the sight. He was manic, almost feral, his eyes not leaving where they were joined, and she found oblivion immediately, squeezing around him again.
“Oh, Claire…”
And then he choked again, hips stuttering, and he fell forward onto his hands atop her, shooting inside her once more. He heaved on top of her, his hair fully soaked with sweat. As if sensing that she needed it, he let his hand run over her cheek, and she nibbled on the tip of his thumb, suckling the tiny puncture wound.
Heaven. She’d died and gone to heaven.
“Nah…” he panted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud.
“If anyone’s died, it’s me.” His arms gave out, and he let himself fall to the right of her onto his side, and she let her legs straighten out, plopping onto her stomach, and then she rolled onto her side to face him.
“I won’t let you,” Claire said, more seriously than she’d meant to. “Never.”
He smiled sleepily. “Aye, I believe ye.” He kissed her sweetly, and Claire tangled their limbs together, lapping up the dried blood on his bottom lip. “That's why I believe I’ve found my eternal salvation. It’s you.”
Claire would weep if she could.
“How can I not love a man who says such things?”
Jamie laughed softly, kissing the tip of her nose. “Love,” again, disbelief. “Aye, it really is me who’s gone to Heaven.”
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 8
Chapter 7
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Jamie felt at least six distinct points of throbbing on his body,  most especially on the back of his left shoulder. There was a massive cold presence beside him, and his eyes fluttered open. He was met with smoldering pools of amber, lighting up as he focused his vision on them.
“Am I making you cold?”
Her voice, velvety smooth despite the hoarse screaming he’d heard from her hours before, sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, desperate to put her at ease.
“But you’re shivering.”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
She was leaning on her elbow facing him, still completely naked, her fingernails trailing along his tricep.
“You’re so warm,” she observed, flattening her hand on his arm and squeezing. “I’m very greedy to want it for myself.”
“Aye, well, ye’re quite cold,” he said, rather stupidly. “We balance out.”
She hummed a sweet little giggle through her nose, her lips curling beautifully.
“How long ye been awake?”
She bit her lip, casting her eyes down shyly.
“Oh. Ye dinna need sleep then.”
She shook her head, meeting his eye again. “Sometimes I do it anyway; it just relaxes me. But I…I didn’t want to miss a single second of you in my bed.”
His stomach flipped, blood racing to his cock.
“Ye just watched me, then?”
Her brow furrowed. “Is that odd?”
He sat up just enough to capture her lips with his, and she sighed with contentment.
“Nah,” he whispered against her mouth as he pulled away.
In fact, he found it endlessly endearing that she stayed there and watched him. Could she truly hold that much affection for him? That the sight of his sleeping face did not bore her for hours on end?
“You smile, you know. In your sleep.”
He felt himself blush, smiling now against his will.
“It’s…sweet.”
Her voice said so much more, so he forced himself to meet her eye, finding her pupils blown wide.
There were so many things about her that were almost animal, and yet just as much that were so very human.
“My Ma used to say that,” he said wistfully. “Thought I’d grown out of it.”
“Well, I’m glad you haven’t.” She leaned over and kissed him again. Jamie deepened the kiss, suckling on her tongue, and he tried to roll on top of her. Her inhumanly strong hand stopped him.
“I want to clean your shoulder.”
Oh.
He’d momentarily forgotten that she’d fed on him.
“I got everywhere but there without waking you.”
He sat up as she did, watching her reach onto the night table for a rag.
“Do you want me to warm the water?”
“It’s alright.”
She gingerly cleaned the spot she’d bitten and the apparent dried trails of blood down his back, and it only mildly stung.
“I did a number on you.”
The thought had him shivering again.
She put the rag back in the bowl and opened a jar that had been sitting on the table. Her delicate, skilled fingers rubbed a salve into his small puncture wounds, and he felt at ease and taken care of. He felt her lips there, pressing a dainty kiss, light enough to not rub off the salve.
“It’ll heal faster now.”
“Thank ye.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. Not when I did it to you.” She put the jar back on the night table and screwed on the lid.
Christ, he wanted to cut himself open and let her drink right this second if it would stop her from feeling guilt over what they’d shared.
Instead, he took her hand, and she whipped her head back to watch as he brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
“I’m alright, Claire.”
She smiled sheepishly. He used the hand he still held to pull her into him, and he knew she could have easily resisted. She did not; instead she nuzzled into him, and they sank into the pillows together like spoons. Jamie’s cock slowly hardened as it rested on her lower back, right above that glorious arse. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing gently, for no reason other than he felt that it belonged in his hand.
“I’m grateful to you, Jamie.”
Her voice was so small, he might not have heard it if not for the silence in the room.
“It’s easy, like this…”
Like a vampire, she meant.
“To lose sight of what it’s like to truly live.”
His heart swelled.
“I’ve not been unhappy. Not at all. I love my life.”
John, she meant.
“But you’ve given me something I…I didn’t know I needed. Your blood makes my body sing, and your…your heart completes me.”
Jamie was overwhelmed with affection, with love. He pressed a fervent kiss to her shoulder, then the nape of her neck. His hand ran up and down her thigh with all the tenderness he possessed.
“Ye have no idea what ye’re doing to me, saying such things.”
“I want to give you everything. I want to bring down the stars and the moon for you,” she went on, her voice becoming breathier as his lips worked on her neck, her ear. “I want to give you so much I know I can’t.”
He knew she meant a normal life, a wedding, children. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want those things, and want them with her.
But above all, he wanted her.
“You are everything,” he whispered hoarsely, surprised by the tears in his eyes. “Your heart completes me, mo ghraidh.”
“My heart is dead, Jamie.”
He stopped kissing her neck, stopped stroking her thigh. He instead brought the hand to her face, turning her head to face him.
“How can ye say that?”
“Because it is.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t possible. Not when I feel so…so…”
Loved.
“Ye’re so kind, and so passionate.” He kissed her, and she craned her neck to deepen it. His hand returned to her thigh, and his cock could stand it no more. She seemed to sense this, because she lifted her leg, allowing him to hold the soft flesh under her knee, and his cock easily slipped inside.
She moaned, keeping her eyes locked with his.
“I refuse to believe ye dinna have a heart. Not when I feel like this when I’m inside ye.”
Complete, whole.
She stretched her arm back to thread it around his neck, fisting his hair. Her other hand clutched a pillow, and she squirmed against him, rubbing her arse on his pelvis as her quim milked his cock. He hissed, squeezing her thigh as he began moving, slowly, deliberately.
“I almost believe you,” she whimpered, joining him in this dance, their hips moving in beautiful tandem. “With you, like this…I almost believe I can cry, and bleed, and die…”
He kissed her fiercely, the thought of her perishing piercing him deeply.
“Believe me,” he muttered. “Believe that you are whole. And perfect.”
She moaned loudly as he increased his pace.
“And I will have you any way I must.”
He fucked her with abandon, his balls slapping loudly into her arse.
“Do you believe me?”
“I do!” she choked out.
He sighed, sinking his teeth into her neck as she began tightening around him, her cries reaching a peak.
“Ye’re mine. Your heart is mine.”
She clenched ever tighter, keening loudly, the hand in his hair tightening. She pulsed around him, a telltale sign that he’d brought her to completion, and then a few more thrusts had him groaning into her neck, stilling, shooting his seed deep into her. His breath heaved in and out of him, the scent of his own sweat combined with that scent she gave off that wasn’t entirely human filling his head, making it spin.
He came out of his stupor when he felt himself slip out of her; she’d lowered her leg and turned around, facing him now, their faces inches apart.
“You’re right,” she whispered, caressing his face. “I couldn’t possibly love you this much if my heart was completely dead.”
Jamie’s entire world narrowed to this moment, to her hand on his cheek, the tips of their noses barely touching, her hair splayed on the pillow behind her, her eyes all pupil with a small ring of amber around them.
“Love…?” he stammered, certain he’d heard her wrong.
She nodded. “I love you, Jamie. If I’ve no heart then…then it’s you. You are my living, beating heart.”
Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. “Me? Not my blood…me.”
“Yes, you darling man.” She kissed him soundly. “I adore you.”
He rolled them over, pinning her beneath him, and her hands instinctively went to his arse.
“I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I saw ye in the apothecary.”
He kissed her again, then pulled away before Claire was ready; she chased after his lips.
“Bite me, Claire. Sink yer teeth in and drink. I must have ye again.”
His cock was not ready, no matter how ready he was. He was young, but not that fast. He knew that if she bit him he’d grow hard as rock and be ready to plunge into her, hear her scream, feel her claw at him, lose himself in her depths again.
She groaned, her eyes darkening, and she disappeared into his neck. He moaned when her teeth sank in, and, as predicted, the longer she drank, the harder he grew, and without warning, he snapped his hips, piercing her deeply. Her fangs fell out of him with her unrestrained cry, her head falling back onto the pillows.
“Will ye tell me again…?” He watched blood drip from his neck onto her breasts, and the sight aroused him an alarming amount.
“I love you…” She cooed, running her hands up and down his back.
He felt emboldened at the sound, thrusting inside her with power, with new confidence.
“I love you…” she repeated.
“I love you…” he choked, lowering to his elbows so he could kiss her as he fucked her mercilessly, so she could lap up the blood on his neck.
She took one of his hands and guided it between them, taking it just above the place where they were joined. She moved his hand back and forth, up and down, and she moaned loudly, differently than she had yet. Something lit up in Jamie’s mind with understanding, and he pushed her hand away.
“You’re so good to me…” she crooned, letting both her hands return to his face. “Such a fast learner…”
Her words fueled him all the more, and he fucked her harder.
“Hand…faster…”
He obeyed, understanding that the harder she wanted it inside, the harder she wanted it there, too.
“Yes, Jamie…yes!”
The corners of his vision darkened, his balls tightening.
“Don’t stop! Yes!”
They both exploded at once, Claire muting her cries by sinking her fangs in again.
Before Jamie passed out from pure overstimulation, he whispered into her hair in fervent Gaelic:
“I shall never leave you, my brown haired lass. You are mine, now and forever.”
— —
Despite Jamie insisting that no, Claire was not affecting his overall body temperature, Claire had sent for servants to get a fire going, as well as to bring them breakfast. Well, just him breakfast, he supposed.
She’d already had Jamie for her breakfast.
They sat before the fire now, Claire in Jamie’s lap, he in a nightshirt and she in a delightfully frilly nightgown that he couldn’t wait to take off of her. Though, he supposed they could not stay in this room making love forever, no matter how much he longed for that. He was already shirking a responsibility; there had been no prior plan to spend the night here, and Geordie was likely very displeased with him. But Jamie supposed that hardly mattered if he was to leave for Lallybroch.
John had told Jamie over dinner he personally sent someone to his family to tell them the news and to give them a copy of the new deed. He supposed they were getting settled right about now, waiting for his return.
For the return of their Laird.
And his Lady, Jamie thought, grinning at Claire as she held out a grape to him. He closed his lips around it, nipping at her fingers just enough to cause her to squeal.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, twirling a red curl in her fingers.
Jamie’s lips quirked. “My family. Getting settled back at home, where they belong.”
Claire beamed. “That’s wonderful.”
“Canna wait to see them.”
Her smile dulled a bit. “Will you go live with them?”
“Aye,” he answered without hesitation. “I must. It’s my land.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“But ye’ll come wi’ me,” he added quickly. “Ye must.”
She averted her eyes. “I can visit you in a nearby town once weekly. I can get my feedings in then.”
Jamie felt like he’d been struck in the face. “Pardon?”
“I can’t very well live in the house with you and your family,” Claire said carefully. “What would we tell them?”
“That ye’re my betrothed,” he said. “Jenny’ll make us sleep in separate rooms, but after everyone’s asleep–”
“But then what happens when we never get married?”
Jamie’s throat hurt when he swallowed. “Then I’ll say we already married. We eloped, and I’m bringing ye home as my bride.”
Claire abruptly left his lap, standing up and walking several paces away. “That won’t work and you know it.”
“Why no’?” He stood.
“I’m already married, Jamie.”
“Aye, wi’ a marriage license from 1720.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Is it not?”
“Please don’t do this…” She took a few steps back to him, but kept her distance. “Don’t ruin this. I just…I want…”
“What do ye want?” he challenged. “Ye tell me ye love me, and then ye say ye’ll come to me for feedings? And nothing more?”
“What kind of life could we have with you at Lallybroch and me in Edinburgh?” Claire crossed her arms.
“None at all!”
“Exactly. And I…I can’t go with you Jamie. I just can’t. How do we explain why the curtains need to be drawn in the daylight, every single second of the day? What if your little nephew climbs in my lap and feels how bloody cold I am? They’ll notice I never eat, never sleep, never go outside…I’m not normal, Jamie. They’ll notice. And they’ll cast us both out, in the best case. In the worst case…they’ll report us to the Church.”
“The Church…?”
“If you’ve never seen a vampire before now, I suppose you’ve never seen a vampire hunter.” She tightened her arms around herself. “That’s why we stick together in groups. The more political influence, the better. The only thing more corrupt than the Church is the government. They turn a blind eye to a hell of a lot, and they donate to the Church to bribe them away from our trail. But they…they’re deranged. They perform exorcisms, drownings in holy water, burnings…which I’ve already lived through. I don’t…I can’t do that again.”
Jamie swallowed, his jaw tight. “No…ye canna.”
“So, you…you have to…I want you to stay with us, Jamie.”
“Us?”
“Yes. With the coven.”
Jamie balled his hands into fists. “Wi’ John.”
“Yes! With John!” Claire uncrossed her arms with force. “My husband. The man whose permission you got to fuck me!”
Jamie abruptly swiped at the tray of food he’d been eating off of, sending it and the contents clattering to the floor. Claire jumped, and he instantly regretted losing control for even a second. His face was hot with rage, but he turned around, away from her, running a hand through his hair.
“Like it or not, Jamie, we cannot exist without one another anymore. I tried to warn you. Perhaps I…could have been more straightforward before I just…bit you. And maybe that makes me selfish but this…Jamie, this is the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s…a hell of a lot more than feeding.”
Jamie’s breaths continued to heave, his ears ringing.
“But I am married. And not out of obligation, I remind you. We are in love. Whether you understand it or not, that’s the truth.”
“Did ye mean it, then? What ye said to me?”
“What? That I loved you?”
Jamie turned around and met her eye again.
“Was it a lie? So I’d give ye my blood again?”
She looked utterly horrified. “How can you say that?” Her irises darkened, flecks of copper popping through. “After all John and I explained, confessed to you last night. How can you accuse me of that?”
Jamie was shocked to feel tears rolling down his cheeks, and he angrily swiped them away.
“Did you lie to me?” She crossed her arms. “So that you could fuck me?”
“No!” Jamie roared. “I’d never–!”
“Then we’re right back where we started, aren’t we? Only I’m a hell of a lot more hurt than I was before.”
She sat down in the opposite armchair heavily, facing away from him. Despite his anger, Jamie was immediately compelled to follow, to kneel at her feet.
“Claire…please, forgive me…”
She didn’t meet his eye; he could tell she was trying to calm herself down given the rapid color changes in her eyes.
“I was sore. I shouldna ha’ accuse ye of lying. I kent ye wouldn’t.”
The muscle in her jaw twitched, and Jamie swallowed.
“I just…it’s harder for me to understand than I thought it would be. Ye ken…?”
Claire nodded, finally acknowledging his presence.
“To think of loving anyone but you? It’s madness. I can’t imagine it. So to think of you loving someone else, while still loving me…”
She nodded. “I’ve lived a very, very long time Jamie. Longer than your twenty or so years can ever imagine.”
He nodded. “Ye’re…more wise than I could ever hope to be.”
She finally met his eye, the honey-amber fully returned.
“D’ye forgive me?”
She nodded without hesitation. “Forgiven.”
“Can ye…be patient wi’ me? While I…find my footing?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He took both of her hands and kissed them.
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. “I knew it would be hard for you. You’re so young, and sweet, and naive…”
Jamie tried not to be offended by that.
“I know when I was your age and still mortal, all I wanted was a husband, a garden, and children. So I…I understand. And I’m so terribly sorry I’ve drawn you into this…this web where you can’t have any of those things.”
Jamie sniffled, shaking his head. “I’ve already said that you are enough. And I meant it. Even if I’ve no’ been too great at showing it.”
“I know. But it’s unfair, nonetheless.” Claire leaned down and kissed the crown of his head. “John will always be in my life. I’d be heartbroken if I left him to marry you and live at Lallybroch.”
Though his chest hurt to hear it, Jamie nodded. “Aye. I’ve no’ forgotten everything ye both told me.” He sighed. “He saved you. Body and soul. Gave ye joy and purpose for two hundred years. I canna ask ye to give that up.”
“And he can’t ask me to give you up. As I didn’t ask him to give up Hector.” Her eyes swam with sadness. “If he hadn’t been killed, he’d still be here, with us. John would spend time in both of our beds, or maybe all of us in one…I don’t know.”
All of them in one…? Jamie’s head spun at the thought. What could she possibly mean?
“I meant it when I said I wanted you to stay,” she whispered hesitantly. “I know you haven’t seen your family in years, and I want you to go see them, be with them for a few months, see that your land will prosper. But then I…I want you to come back. I’ll protect you from any harm.”
Jamie’s stomach turned to think who exactly he’d need protection from in this house.
“John and I both. You’ll be ours– mine.”
Jamie nodded slowly, a bit caught off guard by her brief misspeech.
“You won’t need to work. We’ve enough money to take care of you for your entire life. And when the time comes…we’ll turn you.”
Jamie’s vision blurred. This hadn’t occurred to him yet. Eternity…?
“Or…” Claire’s voice was hoarse with pain. “You can pass naturally. I’d understand. Eternity…isn’t for everyone.”
He stared up at her, speechless.
“But we don’t have to talk about that now,” she said quickly. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”
His mouth flapped uselessly.
“For now, just…say you’ll come live with us after you get your family settled. John and I will buy a home in Inverness so we can easily move back and forth when I have…withdrawals. But it shouldn’t be too often.”
Jamie shook his head. “How long can ye go wi’out my blood?”
“I think two weeks at the longest. If I took a good helping before you left and heavily drank animal blood…I’d suffer toward the end, but I wouldn’t go mad.”
He nodded. “I’ll stay wi’ them for two weeks. Then I’ll be back. Ye needn’t buy a house.”
Claire’s eyes glowed. “Do you mean it? You’ll come to stay?”
“Aye. On one condition.”
“Yes, darling, anything.”
“We handfast.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s…an old Scots tradition, from the days where a priest could be miles and miles away, leaving months before a proper wedding could take place. A man and a woman could be married in the eyes of God a year and a day before a priest performed the ceremony.”
“That’s beautiful, Jamie.”
“Aye. And…though we’ll never truly be in need of a priest…” He cleared his throat. “I want to hear ye say, before God, that you are mine, and I am yours. If ye married John in a church and said yer vows before God, I want the same for us.”
Claire nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, Jamie. I’ll do it.”
“Ye dinna think it foolish?”
“Not at all. It’s…perfect. For us.”
“Aye. It is.”
She let out a small giggle, leaning down to kiss him on the mouth, seemingly in relief.
“Will God mind that we’ve already consummated the marriage…?”
Jamie snickered. “Perhaps…but I dinna care if you don’t.”
“Not one bit.”
And then he was upon her, kissing her, and he was about to disrobe, prepared to carry her to bed.
“Wait,” she stopped him. “On your knees.”
He obeyed, his blood thrumming, swallowing thickly.
She slid to the edge of the armchair, spreading her legs and lifting her nightgown over her hips.
“I want to teach you something else.”
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Posting this for no reason in particular.
🏳️‍🌈✨💖💜💙✨🏳️‍🌈
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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A Call to Action for the Outlander Fandom
You and I both know we have a massive problem with trolling, bigotry, and homophobia in our fandom. I've seen people complain that we're not actually issuing a clear call to action. So here it is.
First, look at this:
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Second, go look at the #We can do better OL tag on my blog. I even linked it for you.
These are SOME of the numerous anonymous messages I have received over the course of about two months. I am not the only one getting this, and I'm speaking up for them as much as for myself. I keep to myself, I write my stories, I do my thing, and I'm content with my little group of friends. I want to go back to this.
And when we bring the harassment and hate speech up, we get more gaslighting and more harassment. So here's the call to action, because I know for a fact the vast majority of this fandom is not like this.
STOP blaming the victims for the actions of their abusers. It's not about ships/fic/canon. It's about not blaming LGBTQ people for being targeted because they are LGBTQ.
STOP saying "victim" like it's manipulation, it's literally a legal term, and the hate speech we're getting is criminal in so much of the world.
STOP being comfortable with this hate and homophobia.
STOP the gaslighting. STOP saying that someone's interpretation of a character as bi is "controversial." It's not, it's just an opinion that takes away nothing from anyone else's opinions; bi people are real, it's a thing.
STOP permitting these few hateful people to speak for you.
Until someone else starts speaking up in opposition, those people who call me a faggot and tell me to kill myself, who threaten my friends' children, THEY are speaking for you. Your silence is aligning yourself with these people.
The heart of the Outlander universe is love. THIS? All of this? Has no place in our fandom.
We can do better.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Read on AO3
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He stood there, fully naked before her, and she was nearly certain she was drooling.
They’d aided each other in their undressing, layer by layer, until he was bare, and she wore only her chemise, drawers, and corset, her feet bare against the rich wood of her bedchamber.
He was like art sculpted from marble, every muscle defined and probably hard as rock. She wanted to weep at her lack of need for breathing; she desperately wanted to be crushed beneath him until she was blue in the face. She wanted to sink her teeth into every bulging muscle on his body.
And Lord, his cock was enormous.
She was lucky, she knew. John was beautiful and perfect, and he was well endowed and pleasured her to the ends of the earth.
But Jamie…
He was hard and ready to take her, and she wanted it to hurt.
He stood there, watching her drink him in with her eyes, fists and jaw clenched tightly. He was painfully aroused, and the thought thrilled her to no end.
She stepped closer to him, letting her hand rest on the center of his chest. He hissed, and for a second she hated her hands and their iciness. But then she trailed them down the lines of his torso, and she thanked the Lord for them, for letting her use them to touch this man. She strolled around him, trailing her hand with her, letting her hand caress his arse, and she moaned softly. Every inch of him was perfect. This arse…she would hold onto it for dear life while he ploughed into her.
She stayed back there, cupping both halves, rubbing gently, and a growl rumbled in his chest. She nuzzled his back with her face, smelling his racing, aroused blood.
“Can I taste you, Jamie?”
“Aye.” There was hardly a second between question and answer. She moaned gratefully and opened her mouth, biting down on his shoulder. He gasped at the sensation, and she drank, continuing to massage his arse. She let her fingers trail lower, teasing his balls, and she truly thought she might kill him. He was panting like a rutting bull, even with his cock entirely untouched.
Claire took a few more greedy, deep gulps, and then she removed her fangs, licked the wound, and kissed it with all the love she possessed.
“Thank you…” she murmured. She rounded his front again, and before she could blink he grabbed her fiercely, claiming her mouth with a power that had her groaning, excited. She let her fang catch on his bottom lip, and he yelped into her mouth, causing her to laugh throatily. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever done: lap up blood from a man’s lip while he kissed her senseless. She ached between her legs, soaking her thighs.
He pulled away just when she began seeing stars, and he was sweating, his unkempt curls damp and dripping, tiny streams of blood trickling from his lip.
“Please, Claire…” His hands ran up and down the boning of her corset.
She smiled wickedly, liking the sound of his begging. She leaned in to lick some blood from his chin, and then she obliged him, pushing the corset together so the hook-and-eyes would snap open. Jamie released a breath he’d been holding, and Claire let the corset fall to the floor. She turned away from him to lift the chemise over her head, not wanting him to see her in just her drawers, wanting to reveal herself fully bare.
“Unbutton them,” she commanded, tossing the chemise aside.
She felt his trembling, fumbling fingers upon her immediately, and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She mustn’t be too cruel, not for his first time.
He finally managed to undo the button, and she felt them slip over her hips and to the floor. He let out a choked sound, his hands squeezing her arse with a fervor she hadn’t expected.
“Holy God, Claire…”
She felt his hardness on her lower back, and he began grinding against her, and she obliged him for a few seconds, though it didn’t stimulate her at all.
Before he could get too carried away, she turned around and stepped back, finally letting him see her.
His chest heaved, his face contorted in something resembling pain. His right hand reached out, hesitantly cupping her right breast, and she whimpered, leaning into the touch.
“I canna bear it any longer…” He whimpered himself, squeezing her breast. “I…I must have ye.”
“Yes…” She muttered, her lips inches from his. “You must.”
He whipped her around, caressing her arse again, and her brow furrowed, confused. She turned back around, meeting his eye, and she took his hands and guided him to the bed. She lay down in the center, pulling him with her, and his eyes suddenly lit with understanding.
Her darling little virgin.
She spread her legs and he crawled up the length of her body. She clawed at the skin of his arse, begging. He took hold of himself, staring at her glistening folds, and she cried aloud at the sensation of the tip of him dragging along her slickness, finding its home.
Then he found it, and he didn’t even wait a fraction of a second before snapping his hips into hers, and she shrieked.
“Ye…” He was struggling to form words, and Claire was seeing stars. “...alright…?”
She pawed at his arse.
“Did…hurt ye…?”
There was still blood trickling slowly from his lip, and Claire wanted to scream. Her hands left his arse to seize his face roughly in her hands. She punctured another small hole in his lip. She thrust her hips upward, and that was enough of a hint. Jamie pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in again, just as Claire took a long drag of his blood, and she knew she’d be crying if her tear ducts had not died with the rest of her. Jamie moaned loudly, and he repeated his thrusting, slow and hard.
A few seconds went by before the poor lad’s arms gave out, and he didn’t have the sense to stop himself from crushing her. She didn’t give a damn. She had no reason to draw breath. She wrapped her arm around his neck, tucking his face into the crook of her neck, and he grunted and groaned in her ear, much to her delight. She bit his ear, the only part of him that she could reach with her mouth, and she drank, and drank, and drank as his hips grew more frantic and desperate.
It lasted less than twenty seconds; he yelled into her neck, freezing inside her, and she delighted in the feel of his warm seed shooting into her dead womb. She licked the small wound on his ear, suckling like a babe, continuing to mewl, not having found her release yet.
His breath heaved against her, and after several long moments, he pushed himself back onto his elbows.
“I crushed ye.”
He looked genuinely panicked and worried, and she couldn’t help it; she laughed at him.
“I don’t have to breathe, Jamie.” She shook her head, cupping his sweet face in her hands. “I’m perfectly alright.”
“Oh.” She felt the tension roll off of him, and then that silly, boyish grin returned to his dear face. “Oh.”
She stroked the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs. “How do you feel?”
“Like…God himself.”
He meant it, wholeheartedly, and Claire wanted to kiss every inch of him.
“Though, I…” He watched a drop of blood fall from his ear and onto the white sheets beneath them, just missing Claire’s own ear. Claire licked her lips. “I think I might be the lowly mortal, serving a Goddess.”
“With a blood sacrifice,” Claire finished his thought, swiping blood from his lip and bringing her fingers to her own mouth, suckling on them. He watched, mesmerized, and Claire could swear she felt his cock, still inside her, twitch, even as it still softened from his climax.
“You’re delicious, my darling,” she murmured. “I could never, ever get enough of you.”
“Nor I of you.”
“Good.”
She abruptly sat up, pinning him beneath her with her inhuman strength before he could so much as cry out in shock. She straddled him, dripping with their combined wetness.
“Because I’m not finished yet.”
Jamie gulped, and Claire chuckled darkly.
Her sex was directly on top of his half-softened cock, and she rolled her hips slowly, experimentally. As expected, the poor lad hissed; he was still so, terribly sensitive from climaxing already.
Good.
“This…won’t do,” she whispered, lowering her body atop his. “Will you be ready for your Goddess again?”
“Aye,” his voice cracked, a veritable croak. “I will, Claire. I will.”
She sped her hips, moaning. “You’re so good to me…”
She sank her teeth into his neck, opposite where she’d bit his neck in the music room. He yelped, digging his nails into her back, and she felt him grow again beneath her sex, hardening abruptly the smallest bit.
She gulped him down, then removed her fangs. “You’ve given me so much…” She suckled at the wound, mewling like a kitten, her hips rocking madly. “And you’ll keep giving more…?”
“Aye, Claire, anything, anything…”
She punctured his skin again, even as the previous spot still bled, and he hardened beneath her all the more. She sat up, shifting herself so that she could see his obedient cock spring up, freed from her weight.
“There you are,” she purred, giving it a languid stroke. He moaned, bucking his hips into her hand. She laughed breathily, and then lined herself up, sinking onto him slowly, crying out louder with every inch.
“Oh, God, Claire…”
She took him in to the hilt, throwing her head back and moaning with unrestrained ecstasy.
“You feel so good to me, Jamie…” she choked, savoring him in this position for a few moments. “So…” She dove into the crook of his neck again, guzzling at the two wounds she’d left there.
“Holy God…” he stammered, squeezing her arse as if for dear life. She rode him, grinding her sensitive, aching flesh into that hard bone that stimulated her right where she needed it.
She gulped the steady stream of his blood at his neck, until it wasn’t enough anymore. She sat up and snatched one of his hands to her mouth. She braced one hand on his stomach and gently pierced his pointer finger so she could drink as she ground down just there and felt him pierce her deeply.
She rode with wild abandonment, screaming to the heavens, suckling his finger like an animal.
And then her body clenched, tightening, and then came the explosion.
She fully sobbed, even without the tears, unable to stop herself.
She rode out her climax, the blood from Jamie’s finger trickling out the corner of her open, screaming mouth, and she braced herself on his pectorals to stop from collapsing. Her hips finally slowed, and only then did she realize that Jamie had joined her in her oblivion, her not even having heard him find it again over her own noises.
She opened her eyes to see him gaping up at her, his pupils blown wide, his hair now fully soaked with sweat. His neck was a bloody mess, as was his mouth and his ear. And yet, even still, he traced his bleeding finger over her lips like he was applying lipstick for her.
“Ye’ve…finished.”
Even through the exhausted haze, she laughed, licking her lips, tasting his sweetness there.
“Yes.”
He chuckled softly, and continued to gently trace her lips. “I didna think…it must only be yer kind, then? Only vampire women?”
She laughed again. “No, no. I…finished before I turned.”
His grin widened, and she felt herself fall all the more in love with him.
“A woman must be very lucky to have a very good lover,” she continued, feeling the need to tell him how wonderful he was, how happy he’d made her.
The look on his face made her want to weep and protect him and simultaneously eat him alive.
With great reluctance, she took hold of the hand with the bloody finger and took it away from her mouth, licking up what he’d left on her lips as she tucked his hand onto his chest, only for him to place both his hands on each of her thighs, rubbing gently up and down.
“Are you in any pain?”
She didn’t think she could bear it if he said yes.
“Aye, a bit.”
Always with that smile.
“Do you want me to stop feeding?”
He chuckled through his nose, squeezing her thighs as his hands ran down.
“Nah.”
She sighed with relief, leaning down to kiss him; no fangs, just lovers’ lips meeting and clasping with all the tender sweetness in the world. His hands ran around her body, up her arse and back, cupping her to him. His breathing deepened as they kissed, and then she pulled away, feeling him stop, and she smiled to see he’d fallen fast asleep.
She peeled herself off of him, rolling over and getting off the bed. She went to the bowl he’d washed with behind the screen, dipping a fresh cloth in the water. She frowned; it was cold now, and she prayed she didn’t wake him.
She didn’t, thankfully, as she dabbed at the wounds she’d left in her wake. She cleaned him up and then applied her salve, everywhere but the bite mark on the back of his shoulder. She’d get that when he was awake.
She hoped he wasn’t disgusted sleeping on bloody sheets. It didn’t look like a murder scene, but it certainly didn’t look clean. Louise had bragged about the state she’d left a few men’s beds in. Claire had drooled at the thought, but now, in practice, the thought of Jamie being disgusted by any aspect of what they’d shared made her want to rip her own hair out and burn the world.
She applied the salve to his bottom lip, the last wound accessible to her, and she knew with painful certainty that she would kill for him. She’d tear anyone, anyone limb from limb for him. Including herself. She’d burn villages to the ground for him.
And she’d rip the head from the neck of any other vampire who had even a drop of his blood.
“Mine,” she whispered, barely audible, brushing back his damp curls and kissing his unwounded upper lip, his mouth open in sleep. “Forever.”
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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A Family of Our Own: Chapter 13
Chapter 12
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October 1755
Jamie jolted out of sleep, breathing heavily. He hadn’t been having a nightmare, hadn’t been dreaming at all, even. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.
And then he heard it, faint enough for anyone without his reflexes to sleep through: a persistent pounding, accompanied by screeching and wailing. He was up in an instant, tossing the covers aside and sprinting down the stairs in nothing but his sark, bare feet slapping on the stone as he ran to the front door.
He unbolted it and threw it open, finding, to his horror, a rain-soaked and blood-stained little girl. 
Marsali.
“Ye have to help! Ye have to!”
Jamie didn’t even blink before scooping her into his arms and running back up the stairs. Jenny and Ian had emerged from the Laird’s room, their sleepy, confused faces morphing into horror as Jamie passed by.
“Claire’s medicine box,” he barked, and without a word, Jenny was off.
Jamie burst back into his bedroom where Claire was already sitting up in bed, confused by his absence and his stomping about.
“Marsali…?”
Jamie sat her down on the bed, and Claire tossed her covers aside to get up on her knees.
“Marsali, listen to me...I can’t understand you…”
She hadn’t stopped carrying on since the second she’d laid eyes on Jamie, a babbling mixture of English and Gaelic that even Jamie couldn’t make out. Claire got off the bed and threw the blankets off, leaving Marsali sitting on the sheet. She pulled on her legs so they were dangling off the edge.
“You ran all the way here in the rain?” Her feet and ankles were bare, cut up and bruised, apparently having dashed from the house in such a hurry she hadn’t put any shoes on. “Fetch one of the girls’ nightgowns,” she commanded to Jamie. “Try not to wake them.”
Jamie was off, and Claire peeled off Marsali’s sopping nightgown, tossing it aside and examining her body.
“Marsali, is all of this blood yours? Where else are you hurt?”
She shook her head, heaving with sobs.
A quick once over told Claire that she was not elsewhere seriously injured; her knees and palms were skinned, likely from slipping in the mud a few times on the way here. Claire fetched water and a clean rag from the wash stand and began dabbing her palms and knees clean of dirt and dried blood.
“Whose blood is it, Marsali? What happened?”
She was shivering violently, likely from both cold and terror, and she couldn’t get a word out.
“Please, Marsali, I need you to calm down, I need to know what happened.” She wrapped Marsali tightly in a blanket and started undoing her plaits and drying her hair with another cloth.
“Ma! It’s...Ma’s…blood!”
Claire’s own blood ran cold, and then Jamie reappeared with a nightgown, followed by Jenny with her medical kit.
“What in God’s name is happening?” Jenny cried, putting the box down beside Claire.
“Deep breaths, Marsali,” Claire crooned gently, setting to work on disinfecting the cuts on her feet. Claire inhaled on a hiss when she saw that her left big toenail was going to fall off, her likely having stubbed it on a rock she couldn’t see in the dark. That would hurt for a while. “Tell us as much as you can.”
“He hit her...he hit her so many times...so hard…”
Claire felt her stomach churning, but her hands remained steady, focused on their healing task. 
“Wi’ his hands?” Jamie cut in.
“Aye...at first…”
Claire deduced that nothing on her feet needed stitches, and there was nothing to be done about the toenail until it fell off naturally, so she began bandaging her feet.
“Then he...went to the fire...the...poker…”
Jamie sucked in a breath, and Claire pushed down the bile that jumped into her throat. He’d taken the metal fire poker to her. There was hardly a chance she was still alive.
“I tried...to help!” she sputtered. “She wouldna wake up!”
Claire felt Jenny’s fingers digging into her shoulder.
“I didna want to leave her, or Joanie! She was screaming her wee head off...but I was scared! I didna ken what else to do!”
“Ye did the right thing,” Jamie said gently. “Ye were very brave.”
“Ye have to heal Ma!” Marsali cried to Claire. “And ye have to hurry before he hurts Joanie!”
“How did ye get away?” Jenny asked fretfully.
“He was half gone wi’ drink…” Marsali said. “When Ma fell down, he sat at the table...told me to get back in bed...but I ran! He was too drunk to catch me, so I ran! But what if he hurt Joanie because he was angry wi’ me fer leaving?”
Jamie was already pulling breeks on, then his boots.
“No harm will come to Joanie. Claire and I will leave right this instant.”
Jenny took over with seeing to Marsali’s cuts and scrapes.
“Go wake Fergus, throw a pair of his breeks on over yer shift. There’s no time fer laces and such.”
Claire nodded her assent and did as she was told, and Fergus blearily obeyed her command to get dressed. While Jamie and Fergus readied the horses, Claire stopped back into her bedroom where Jenny, and now Ian, were comforting the still shuddering and weeping little girl.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered fiercely, cradling her face. “You are going to be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you, not ever, ever again.” She fervently kissed Marsali’s forehead. “I love you, darling. We’ll be back with Joan as fast as we can.”
——
They all three arrived on horseback, soaked in rain. Claire had tucked warm blankets and the baby wrap in a leather bag, keeping it dry for the trip back with Joan.
They heard her wailing before they even dismounted.
Claire did not bother tying up the horse; she threw the reins to Jamie and burst into the house, front door still ajar from Marsali’s flight. She could not ignore the bloody body in front of the fireplace– her mangled limbs, her eyes wide open in permanent shock, but she pressed on, following the sound of the crying.
Wallace was passed out on the bed against the wall, and Claire cried out with relief to see Joanie in her cot, upset, but unharmed. She rushed to her, scooping her up and pressing her to her breast.
“It’s alright. I’m here. Shh…Oh, my sweet girl...it’s alright now…”
She left the bedroom upon hearing Fergus and Jamie muttering to one another, and saw that they were crouched over Laoghaire. Jamie gently closed her eyes and crossed himself, and Fergus did the same. Claire merely pressed Joan deeper into herself and kissed her head, bouncing her gently, not wanting to release her grip on her for even a second.
“Shall we...bury her, Papa?”
“No,” Jamie said, his voice hoarse. “No, but we’ll have someone to bury shortly.”
“Jamie…?” Claire watched fretfully as he brushed past her into the bedroom.
“He canna live, Sassenach. Surely ye ken that.”
Claire swallowed, still bouncing the baby. “No...for the girls’ sake...he can’t.”
Jamie nodded once and then approached the bed where the bastard was snoring loudly, unconscious from drink. Claire did not have the stomach to keep watching as Jamie picked up one of the pillows and covered Wallace’s face. She stepped away from the bedroom, tuning out the muffled struggling, focusing instead on Joan’s calming breaths.
“There’s a good girl...it’s alright…”
Jamie emerged, crossing himself again.
“Need we even bury him?” Fergus chimed in, standing up. “Maman says it’s possible to die from drink.”
“Alcohol poisoning,” Claire confirmed. “You could bury him, and they’ll assume he beat her and run off, but he reeks of liquor. Pile the empty bottles by the bed and anybody with eyes and a nose will think that’s what killed him.”
“Aye. Easier that way. Fergus will fetch the authorities in Inverness. Tell them exactly what happened, that our kitchen girl came to us bloody and screaming that her father beat her mother to death, and then he wouldn’t wake up after drinking himself blind. Leave out the part where I was ever here, and if they ask, tell them the children are safe at home wi’ yer mother.”
“Oui, Papa.”
Like a shot, Fergus was off, and the second they were alone, Jamie crushed Claire to him, mindful of Joanie.
“It’s alright, mo ghraidh,” he soothed, stroking her hair and kissing the crown of her head. “We’ve got her back now. It’ll be alright.”
We’ve got her back.
But at what cost…?
Stifling the urge to vomit, Claire pulled away. “I can’t stay here any longer.” She deliberately avoided letting her eyes fall on Laoghaire’s body.
“Aye. We should go.”
Claire fastened Joan to her chest before stepping back out into the rainy night, or early morning, rather. It was harder than it was since the last time she’d seen the baby, and only then did it hit her how big she’d gotten. Her second birthday was only a few months away, after all. God, what a difference a few months made…
Pushing down the urge to grieve, something that seemed wildly inappropriate given the circumstance, Claire allowed Jamie to help her mount her horse, given the extra weight she carried. When they were settled, she covered Joan’s head with the blankets she’d brought, determined for the child to not suffer illness. Even though it was July, it was still Scotland, and still the dead of night. She prayed Marsali didn’t come down with something horrible, tearing through the rain and the cold as she had, wearing nothing but her shift.
The ride back to Lallybroch was not long; the distance between them was not great. But it was considerable, and the thought of running rather than riding a horse exhausted Claire just to think of it. She prayed that Jenny had given Marsali hot tea and bundled her up, and that she was watching her while she was in a deep sleep.
God, she was going to have to tell her that her mother was dead.
Lallybroch was in view much too soon, and Jenny was waiting for them in the doorway. Rabbie took care of their horses as Jenny ushered them inside.
“There’s hot tea and dry clothes in the Laird’s room. The lass is asleep in yer bed.”
Good. That was good.
“Give me the bairn.” Jenny outstretched her arms for Joan, and an illogical surge of panic shot through Claire, and she tightened her grip on the wet bundle of blankets.
“Sassenach.”
Jamie’s voice grounded her, as did his gentle hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright. She’ll be in the nursery. Beside wee Ian, where she belongs.”
“Aye,” Jenny confirmed. “I’ll get her nice and dry and warm. Ye can see her straight after ye’re wearing dry clothes.”
Claire nodded mutely and finally allowed Jamie to help her unwrap Joan, and then she was gone, whisked away by Jenny up to the third floor.
“Come on, lass,” Jamie said gently, pushing her toward the Laird’s room. “It’s alright.”
When they were in the bedroom, with the door shut, that’s when the trembling began.
“Where’s Ian?” she said, her voice sounding dull and hollow.
“Sitting with Marsali, I reckon,” Jamie said, shedding his wet clothes.
Claire nodded. “That’s...kind of him.”
Jamie was already in a dry sark and making his way to the line Jenny had strung in front of the fire while Claire was still fumbling with Fergus’s breeks. The trembling in her hands had progressed violently, and she was losing feeling in her fingertips, her toes, her feet, her nose. Her vision was going, and she knew her knees would give out soon.
She was no stranger to shock.
“Claire.”
She forced her eyes to focus on him, towering over her, wet clothes hanging behind him.
“Let me.”
She let him undress her like a ragdoll, let him pat dry her and squeeze out her hair, let him get her in a dry nightgown. He guided her to the bed, the distance too short to justify carrying her, and she sat on the edge as he gathered their wet things to hang up. She focused on her breathing, in and out, in and out, focused on rubbing her hands over her thighs to stop herself from wringing them, from clawing at her eyes to erase what she’d seen tonight.
Mercifully, Jamie was at her side in less than a minute, taking her ever-moving hands in his.
“Ye’re freezing.”
Claire nodded imperceptibly, and she was almost certain it looked more like a shudder. Jamie took her hands and brought them under his arms, crushing them there. In any other circumstance, Claire might have laughed, called him inhuman for not being ticklish there. But right now, she was grateful for the warmth they gave her, along with his arms cradling her shivering frame.
“It’s over now,” he whispered into her hair. “Ye did all ye could. Ye canna help her anymore.”
Laoghaire.
Yes, they had tried to help her. Claire wondered if perhaps Laoghaire hadn’t been so stubborn and indignant when they’d first shown up at Balriggan, maybe she’d still be alive. She might never have needed to remarry once Simon was taken away. Because they could have helped her.
But she’d been too damn proud.
And now her children...God, her daughter would be scarred by this night forever.
And they’d have to tell her that her mother was dead.
Damn you, Laoghaire. You couldn’t have set it all aside and let us help you?
Damn yourself, Beauchamp. Speaking ill of the dead.
Claire would never forget the chill that ran down her spine when sixteen year old Laoghaire hissed that she would dance on her ashes. She still felt it sometimes, in moments of remembering, that horror and terror, utter disbelief that somebody could say something so evil.
But the woman who’d begged Claire to hear her as she cried I am a good mother, the woman who stitched a note into her daughter’s clothes and sent her away for a better life...she was not evil.
As much as Claire had mourned losing her baby...if she were in Laoghaire’s shoes, she’d have done the same. If she’d given up Brianna, and then suddenly found herself taken care of, of course she’d go back for her. If she had one thing in common with Laoghaire, it was being a mother. The woman that had come back for her children was not evil.
No…Simon MacKimmie was evil. Thomas Wallace was evil. And Laoghaire was so lost and defenseless in a world that cared not what happened to destitute women, she clung to those evils like a lifeline. Until it killed her.
God, Claire pitied the woman who’d once wanted to dance on her ashes.
But who she pitied more than anyone were the children she’d left behind.
Joan would thankfully, mercifully not remember any of this. She’d know vaguely what had happened, but the trauma of the event would not stay with her forever. But Marsali…
She would never be the same again.
That loss, loss of innocence, whatever Simon had left of it intact, was not worth anything. It was not worth Claire having her, having them back. She’d honest to God give anything to undo Laoghaire’s murder to spare these girls from more pain, even knowing it meant she’d never get them back.
She’d been prepared to never get them back, anyway.
But now here they were.
“I want to see Joan.”
Jamie did not stop her.
“I’ll look in on Marsali.”
They went their separate ways, Claire drifting through the halls like a ghost. When she reached the nursery on the third floor, she crept in silently, her eyes roaming over Michael and Janet, clinging to each other in one bed as they always did in sleep, despite having their own beds, then Ian, sound asleep, and then Joanie.
My baby.
But she wasn’t.
She was Laoghaire’s baby. She was a dead woman’s baby.
Her mangled corpse danced in Claire’s vision again, and she swallowed the urge to vomit.
She knew she shouldn’t pick her up, knew she should let her sleep, but she couldn’t help herself. She lifted her slowly, and Joan didn’t stir at all, likely completely exhausted from screaming for God knows how long, and then the journey.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Claire murmured, rubbing her back. Her hair was still slightly damp, and Claire reached into the cot to wrap a blanket around her to ward off any chill. “There you go. Hello.”
Claire could feel it coming, the way one can sense a change in the wind before a downpour. She crept slowly and silently out of the nursery, shutting the door behind her, and then she leaned against the wall in the hallway, and covered her mouth with her free hand, biting fiercely on the skin to stifle a cry.
She hadn’t cried seeing Laoghaire’s body, or after Jamie had smothered Wallace, or after Fergus had left Balriggan and Jamie held her, or even in the Laird’s room, trembling with shock. She’d either been on a mission, or completely numb.
She slid to the ground, sobbing into her hand, clutching Joanie to her chest for dear life.
“I’m so sorry…” she whispered hoarsely, weeping. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, baby…” She rocked her whole body rather than rocking just the baby. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…”
That was how Jamie found her, having come in search of her after she’d been gone for a while, long after Jenny and Ian had gone back to bed for an hour or so more of rest before the sun rose. His chest cracked open at the sight, at the sound. It was painfully similar to how she’d cried when Joanie had disappeared down the road in Laoghaire’s arms all those months ago. She was choking on it, desperate to stay quiet enough to not wake Joanie or the other children, but so close to being unable to stop herself from screaming.
He lowered himself to his knees beside her, gingerly touching her shoulder. She crashed into him with a heartbreaking, pitiful little sound, and he enveloped her in his large arms. He buried his face in her hair and kissed her head over and over, whispering words she couldn’t translate but could understand. She’d been rocking her body, for Joanie’s sake or her own he could not tell, so he took up the motion as well, rocking her gently.
“It’s alright, mo chridhe. There was nothing to do. It’s no’ yer fault.”
He knew that was what plagued her most, the feeling that she had failed those girls, knowing that she’d prayed to be able to hold them again, and perhaps inadvertently causing them more suffering by having done so.
“You ken as well as I that if this hadn’t happened, if the girls were safe and happy and cared for, that you’d have let them go. You were fully prepared to do just that. What happened tonight was out of our hands.” He moved his lips to her wet cheek, kissing her there, tasting the salt of her tears. “God saw fit that they return to us, and now here they are.”
“I have a hard time believing that God would let a woman be viciously beaten to death just so we can add to our progeny,” she spat.
He knew the anger was not directed at him, so it did not pain him. The anger could be directed at no one but God himself, Jamie thought.
“Aye,” Jamie said hoarsely. “Faithful as I am...I’m having a hard time believing it myself.”
They rocked in silence for a while, no sound to be heard but Claire’s attempts at quieting herself and Joan’s tiny snores. It was a leap, to be sure. Believing that the girls being part of their family was part of God’s plan when that plan involved nothing short of Satan’s work to come to fruition. How could the bruises that covered Marsali’s helpless body be God’s plan? Or her split lip? Or that terror in her eyes that she’d have for a long while, if not forever? Or Laoghaire’s blood staining the stones beneath her?
He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, devout as he was, and the confusion must have been doubled for Claire.
“God aside, Sassenach,” Jamie began slowly, carefully. “And fate, and plans aside...the girls are here. They’re orphaned, and they ken us best. We are best equipped to care for them. Are we no’?”
Claire sniffled, nodding minutely against his chest.
“Aye. Then that’s the truth of it.” He squeezed her, kissing her head again. “Regardless of how, or why, they’re here. And they’re ours. If they’ll have us. And ye ken they will.”
Claire nodded again.
“It’ll no’ be easy,” Jamie said sadly. “Marsali looked as wild as I did after Wentworth, the poor thing.” Claire shuddered against him, and he heard her swallow, likely quelling the urge to burst into tears again. “She’s going to need us very fiercely for a long while.”
“She will.” Claire sniffled again. “And she’ll have us. Forever, if need be.”
“Aye.”
Another thoughtful pause.
“Do you think…” Claire trailed off. “Never mind.”
“Tell me. It’s alright.”
She sighed. “Do you think she remembers she used to call me Ma…?” Her voice was so tiny, so far away. Like something Jamie had never heard before. “Joanie, I mean. Do you think she’s forgotten that I...I want to be her mother?”
“I...I canna say, mo ghraidh,” he answered truthfully. “But, if she doesna, she’s got a whole lifetime to be reminded. Aye?”
“I suppose.” Claire kissed the baby’s head. “I just don’t want to confuse her, or upset her. What if her time away from us was enough for her to see Laoghaire as her mother forever? And should I even want it any other way? Shouldn’t she know her true mother?”
“She doesna have one true mother, Claire,” Jamie said. “She can think of the woman who brought her into the world and cared for her until she couldna anymore, and she can think of the woman who raised her, taught her to speak and take her first steps, both as her true mothers.”
Claire sighed, and he hoped that she retained what he’d said, tucked it away somewhere she could pull it back out again when she needed to remind herself.
“It was easier with Fergus,” she said wistfully.
Jamie hummed thoughtfully. “The lad didna even ken who his mother was.”
“Do you think that made it easier for him? Not remembering losing her? Just becoming ours just like that?”
“In a way, perhaps,” he said. “Ye could argue that it wasna easier at all. Ye could argue that fer Fergus, Marsali, and Joanie alike, but ye’d end up turned in circles.” He cupped Joan’s head, and he smiled. “The ending is the same fer all of them, though. All three, Fergus and the girls, end up wi’ a kind and caring mother, who will love them ’til the end of time.”
“And a wonderful father,” Claire added.
“Come on.” He stood up, extending a hand for her, which she took. “Let’s get ye to bed.”
Claire looked fretfully at the baby in her arms.
“Take her wi’ us. Marsali’s in the bed already anyway.”
She smiled weakly and allowed him to tuck her into his side, taking her downstairs with him.
“It’ll be alright,” he whispered. “We’ll make it so.”
She didn’t say anything, just nuzzled deeper into him, but she believed him.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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writing fanfiction is just. i’m being so creative and original. i’m plagiarizing everyone by accident. i’m a genius. i’m cringe. i’m too angsty. i’m too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesn’t matter that it’s not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. i’m seeking validation. i’m projecting my own personal problems onto this story and i’m barely hiding it. i know so many words and i’m using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.
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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years
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her watery eyes and her red lil drippy nose I can’t fucking stand it
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