seventeenfortythree | River Run

"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."

Taking his shirt, he pulls it on over his head, and when he gets up he nearly trips on her shift, foot getting tangled in it as he curses in Gaelic, then picks it up, handing it to her.

Waiting until she's properly decent, he opens the door. There's a short conversation, between him and one of the house servants. Closing the door again, he lets out a breath and goes to the edge of the bed, on Claire's side.

"It wasna for me, Sassenach." Leaning down, he kisses her softly. "Yer needed, to deliver a bairn."

There it is, good man. Claire pulls her shift onto herself and waits, unable to hear the words exchanged. Not for her? Oh. Oh. And just like that, any and all remnants of a desire for a morning in bed are pushed aside.

"All right," she says, getting out of bed and over to the wardrobe to pull out something to wear. "Why don't you go see if you can find yourself some breakfast? I'll head down when I'm dressed, then come and find you once all is taken care of."

Jamie's most certainly not needed for any deliveries.

He begins getting dressed as well, but he can't help stopping to kiss her every now and again as they both prepare for their day. Once he's dressed, he stops her with his hands on her hips, kissing her forehead. He doesn't quite know what he wants to say, he knows she'll be safe - it's only delivering a child, after all. But she'll still be out of his sight for hours.

"I love you, Claire. Go, bring a new life into the world." One that he hopes will mark their new beginning here, a child born that will never know the brutal end of a whip.

Claire smiles at the kiss, and has to give him a kiss in return, hands giving both of his a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you, too. Go eat. I know I wore you out last night and you need to replenish your strength," she says, giving his flat belly a playful pat before hurrying out the door and calling the attention of the servant patiently waiting to take her to where she needs to go.

He laughs, nuzzling her temple before letting her go, and he does head to the dining room, to break fast with his auntie. He checks in on Ian, speaks with him about becoming the overseer and sees to other duties of the day. But as dusk falls and his wife still isn't back at the house with him he begins to pace, checking the time once the sun is down and then going himself to the cabins.

Trouble does like to find his wife, so God knows anything could have happened. He tries to be a patient man, but he'd rather be subjected to a woman giving birth and knowing his wife is safe than sit and wonder.

A competent healer draws a lot of attention.

The delivery is a little tricky, the baby unsure of which way it wants to come out first, but Claire is happy to hand a wailing newborn baby boy to a tired, but healthy mother. She's cleaning up when someone comes to ask about an ache, and then another about what is actually a fracture and not just a bruise, and by the time Jamie's come to fetch her she's completely lost track of time or any notion that she should probably check on her husband and eat something herself. But when she's in her element, fixing and healing and educating, it's easy to forget that she herself needs to be looked after, too.

"And you're all set," Claire's telling a young woman who now has a bandaged finger and a grateful smile on her face. "Make the salve I told you, and the infection shouldn't come back if you're diligent about applying it and keeping that wound clean."

The woman nods, thanks Claire again, and steps past Jamie on the path. Claire looks surprised to see him, and moreso that it's dark. When did that happen?

"Oh, Jamie. What are you doing out here?"

He hardly looks angry or annoyed or put out, merely taken by his wife as his eyebrows raise. "What am I doing? Have ye no concept of time when yer in your element?" he asks, though his tone is more teasing and he kisses her forehead.

"The bairn is well?"

She wraps an arm around his middle, leaning into his shoulder.

"The baby's well, mother as well. And about a few other dozen people that have had some ailments they've been hesitant to draw attention to," Claire points out, clearly not pleased with the matter.

"Once they heard who I was, they came out of the woodwork. Work injuries, pulled muscles, infected cuts..."

Nothing life threatening, but simply uncomfortable.

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