seventeenfortythree | River Run

She smiles against his mouth. He doesn't even have to think about it, to roll them so, and Claire purrs like the pleased cat that she is when her weight rests atop him. Little question as to what she'd like, legs on either side of him as they kiss, but it's her that asks:

"Can I have you, Jamie?"

Both of his hands move through her hair now, then travel down her back to rest on that perfectly round ass he loves so much.

"I've been yours from the moment we met, Sassenach," he breathes out against her mouth. "Ye can have me, Claire. Christ, I'm yours."

"And I'm yours," she whispers back, reaching between them to touch him before their bodies join. As nice as it is to have him inside her, to make love, she does find a pleasure in simply feeling him harden in her hand.

"And I want my husband more than anything else right now."

She's always been the only one to make him feel exactly this. The one and only he ever truly wanted to make him feel this way.

"From the moment ye first touched me, Claire, you could have me any moment you wish," he vows, and his words end on a groan as his eyes close, captive to her touch, to anything she wants to do.

He likely doesn't mean to make her laugh, but he does.

"Oh, I know," she tells him. Even before they wed, when they were merely friends, she knew there was more on his part. "You were a little obvious."

Maybe. Or she's just teasing him even as she presses their bodies together, closing her eyes as he fills her.

All ability to think and function goes out of the window as soon as he's inside of her and he pulls at her shift, getting it down around her hips so that he can cup a breast in his hand and drag his thumb across a nipple.

Reaching with his other hand he wraps it around the back of her neck and tugs her down, so that his mouth can press breathless kisses to her skin, letting his tongue drag across her pulse point.

Any laughter turns into a moan, and she melts against him. It's easy to rock against his body still even as he kisses her neck, his name on her lips before she's tipping his head up so that she can kiss him.

As nice as it is to have his mouth on her, anywhere, it's best when she can kiss him as hard as she's able.

His hips press up into hers, a groan cutting through the room but he does kiss her the best he can before his hands move to her hips, holding onto her and then letting one drift between them. He touches her, thumb pressing between them where he knows he can elicit those wee noises he loves so much.

"Cheater," she whispers against his mouth, laughing again. It truly is something else to be able to laugh while in bed with your spouse.

"But don't stop."

Clearly, because even if he did, she'd keep moving her hips.

He lets out a breathless laugh and moves his thumb faster, eager to hear her fall apart, to watch her. Christ, he loves watching her, always has. "Make me yours, Claire," he breathes out.

"Oh, God," she breathes, the hint of a laugh in her voice. Breathless as they both are, she still wants to kiss him, hips grinding down against him almost frantically. He's perfect. Not in every way, but perfect for her, and she's glad she'll never have to leave him again. No more kidnapping, no more time travel, no more prison. Just this, even if it's here in an imperfect place.

He's going to fall apart, he knows it, a groan making his touch falter, but only for a moment. His breath is harsh against her mouth until he ducks his head, knowing what to do to make her cry out first. His lips wrap around a nipple, sucking intently, lavishing attention to it with his tongue even as his hand moves faster and his hips drive harder. His wrist aches but he'll be a damned man if he stops, needing her pleasure first.

A filthy cheater, but Claire won't be the one to complain. She knows exactly what he's doing. She moans, and then louder, rocking harder against him and chasing her own pleasure. It's what he wants from her and she will very happily give it.

As she feels herself begin to unravel, she forces herself to ride him even harder, wanting him to follow.

She doesn't need to wait long for him; as soon as she moves harder it's enough to make his teeth scrape the side of her breast on his way to her neck. His hand leaves her because he knows nothing will stop her pleasure now. But he pulls her down against him, his face against her neck as he grunts her name, thrusting once, then twice before he lets go. His fingers flex against her skin, breath harsh against her shoulder.

He can't move, he doesn't want to, needing her close, right against him, needing the warmth of her to stay.

She kisses his cheek, brow pressing hard to his temple as she tries and fails to catch her breath. As if sensing something, the next kiss to his skin is gentler, and she forces herself to speak.

"I'm right here," she promises. "I just want you to rest well tonight, Jamie."

This is one way of doing it.

"Stay. Right here, mo calmen geal," he says, the request soft, still somewhat breathless, but quiet. He needs her in a different way now, safe in his arms where he knows, for a fact, no harm will come to her.

"Why would I ever go anywhere else? Everything I need is right here," she reminds him. Oh, but sometimes he needs the reminder, and that's all right.

The hand that lacks a ring touches his cheek before she dips her head down to kiss him slowly.

He whispers, soft, sweet words to her, a mix of English and Gaelic. But she also knows what to do to ease his mind, to make him capable of resting. His eyes close only a moment later arms secure around her as he falls asleep.

It's his wife who soothes him enough that he sleeps through the night, and when he wakes, he's facing her on his side, their positions shifted a bit as they slept. He watches her, reaching out, touching her face so softly, not trying to wake her, but rather marvel at her, at her beauty, at the fact that she's his, even now after all these years.

Claire watches him sleep for a short while, smiling to herself as just a gentle touch to his hair makes him smile in his sleep. Just like Bree. Some things simply don't change. She settles against him, content to use him as a mattress until she slips off him sometime in the night and burrows into his side.

Hardly a morning person, but generally aware of Jamie's movements, he doesn't get long to admire her before one blue eye cracks open. The other follows. And then, she smiles sleepily. An arm is draped comfortably over his middle, and she gives him a thing that might be a hug if she weren't just waking up.

"Have you been staring at me, Mr. Fraser?"

His voice is low and still gravelly with sleep as he responds. "Aye. When ye sleep well, Mrs. Fraser, ye look as you did on our wedding night. Always bonny. But before quite so much had ever happened," he says softly. "No' quite so much worry, here," he says, thumb ghosting over the corner of her left eye gently.

"If I recall correctly, it was you that slept soundly on our wedding night. Out like a flame," she teases gently. They both slept surprisingly soundly that night, wrapped up in one another and having no idea what the future would hold.

"That much hasn't changed."

"I canna help it if you're verra good at loving me, Sassenach," he says with a grin, leaning in to purposefully let his facial hair tickle her neck as he kisses her skin, eager to hear her laugh, the sound music to him.

He gets what he wants immediately, along with a very sudden squirm from her that has her pushing herself away from him. Good job, Jamie. Now she has to be on the cold side of the bed.

"Jamie," she laughs, giving his shoulder a pitiful shove. "Don't--start what you can't finish."

A warning.

He makes a very offended sound, pulling his head back to look at her.

"What I canna finish?" he says in disbelief, but she's proven right as soon as there's a knock on the door and his forehead falls to the pillow.

"Are ye a seer now as well?"

Claire groans and goes entirely limp. God, no. They need a do not disturb sign.

"I wish I weren't," she says sadly, and makes sure she's properly covered. Where's his shirt? Nowhere it's supposed to be, though Claire does him a solid and fishes under the pillows for it. Oh, there it is. She drops it on his head as she begins to wonder where her shift got off to during their love making and sleeping last night.

"Chase them away, whoever it is."

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