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I'll Never Love Again

Chapter Text

May 2005

She opened her eyes slowly to the early morning sun, and looked over at her still sleeping husband – laying on his back with his hands folded across his stomach. Claire had been hoping he wouldn’t wake at the crack of dawn like he always did, because she had a special birthday plan to wake him up.

Pushing her side of the covers away, Claire moved to her knees and carefully pulled back the sheet covering her husband’s waist. Even in middle age, Jamie had a fit body, always at the gym, taking care of himself – not that Claire minded in the slightest.

She didn’t want to straddle him, because that would surely wake him, so instead she turned her body to face him and placed one hand lightly on his bare thigh. Jamie started sleeping naked again when their kids had grown too old to barge into their room at all hours of the day, and for this Claire was thankful.

As she moved his hand gently on his thigh, she looked down between his legs, and saw his semi-erect cock twitch slightly. Claire’s heart started to race, nervous that Jamie would wake up before she wanted him to.

Leaning over his body, careful to keep her curls from tickling his skin, Claire touched his cock with one finger, from base to tip. Seeing that he only squirmed, but didn’t stir, made her aroused and so Claire took hold of his cock in her hand and placed her lips around the tip. He tasted salty and warm, she smiled to herself and opened her mouth for more of him. As her tongue swirled on his head, tasting the pre-cum that had started to ooze, all of a sudden, Claire felt a large hand on her shoulder.

She turned her face to look at him, and saw two squinty, sleep filled blue eyes peering down at her, with a smirk on the owner’s face.

“Happy 45th Birthday, Jamie.” Claire smiled, and then dipped her head to place a kiss on his cock.

“Are ye tryin’ to give me a heart attack, Sassenach?” Jamie grunted.

“Something like that,” Claire smirked and continued to suck on his length. Jamie groaned, arching his back off the bed and moving his hand to tangle in her curls, which had streaks of grey in them.

“Claire…” Jamie sighed, “I canna –”

She looked up just in time to see Jamie shut his eyes tightly, his other hand twisting the sheets and then she felt him spill himself into her mouth. Claire nearly gagged – it had been awhile since she’d done this to him, but swallowed, and pulled back, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“I’m dead, Sassenach.” Jamie said softly, reaching out his hand for her. Claire climbed on top of him, laying her body flat over his, nuzzling her face into his neck – she was thankful that she too, was naked… but that might have more to do with their extracurricular activities the night before.

“Would you like me to sing?” Claire smiled against his chest, placing a soft kiss there.

“Oh aye, I would.” Jamie grinned, sliding his hands over the small of her back and finally resting on her round arse. Even as they got older, Claire’s arse was still firm – a bit more plump, which Jamie liked, but firm nonetheless.

“But first,” Jamie grabbed both her hips to lift her slightly off of him, and understanding his meaning, Claire reached in between their bodies and took hold of his cock, guiding it to her center.

“Happy Birthday… to you,” Claire started to sing, as she rose off his chest and placed a hand on his belly, sinking down on his hard cock.

She rolled her hips, her breasts bouncing slightly as Jamie pushed himself off of the bed. “Happy birthday to you,” she sang.

Jamie thrust upwards, squeezing her hips, and moved one calloused hand over her breast, kneading and flicking her nipple. Claire’s breath was becoming heavy and quick, making it harder for her to sing.

“Happy,” she moaned and rested her hand on one of Jamie’s knees behind her. “Birthday dear,” Jamie cried out, “Jamie.” Claire sighed, rolling her hips in a figure eight movement and finally moaned as her orgasm took over her body and she fell against his chest.

A moment later after they had taken a breath, Claire lifted up to look at him, brushing a finger across his lips. “Happy birthday to you,” she pressed her lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“Thank ye for making my birthday so good every year for the last seventeen years, Sassenach,” Jamie whispered against her lips, his hand brushing a few curls away from her face.

“You do age like a good wine,” Claire remarked with a smile.  Since the day she had met him, his gorgeous face didn’t change a lot, it simply got better – a few lines were gracing the sides of his eyes and a new one on his forehead because he worried about the children so much. His fiery curls were starting to fade into a lighter auburn colour and he discovered his first white hair the other morning.

“Thank ye for the compliment,” Jamie chuckled softly, kissing her nose, “So do ye, Sassenach. I like the grey,” Jamie’s finger touched the grey streak in her hair.

“That’s what happens when you marry someone older than you by three years,” Claire smirked.

“It’s beautiful,” Jamie lifted her chin, “Ye’re beautiful, Sorcha.”

Claire sealed their lips once more, “Smooth talk like that can get you everything you want, Fraser.”

“I already have everything I want, Fraser,” Jamie admitted with a broad smile, his index finger stroking her upper lip. “I never thought at forty five I would be so happy, so fulfilled, so peaceful but I am and tis’ all thanks to ye, Claire.”

Jamie hadn’t touched a glass of alcohol after the night of Claire’s graduation and their argument. It had not been easy, neither for him and for her – who lived in the constant fear of seeing a relapse but they had trusted one another completely and together, took small steps towards his recovery. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Claire could barely hide the emotion in her voice and her eyes were shiny with tears about to spill but they were not sad tears – they were happy ones. “And thank you for allowing me to see not only your good side but also the less appealing one and most importantly, thank you for trusting me enough to let me help you.”

“We built a good life together, I canna wait to see what lays ahead for us for the many years to come.”

“I can see lots of love,” Claire winked, kissing his cheek, “And graduations, birthdays, weddings, grandchildren…”

“Och, we have many more years before grandchildren,” Jamie chuckled, “I ken it will happen one day but there’s still time.”

Their oldest daughter Flora was sixteen, Skye turned fourteen in the fall and their latest, Henry was eight. They did have plenty of time to think about grandchildren but they also knew how fast life passed by and they were determined to enjoy every moment.

“Yes, we’ve got all the time in the world,” Claire pulled him close and kissed him tenderly, her legs tangled with his. They kissed thoroughly for a long time, being in their own bubble, in their own world – together and not a care in the world.


After reluctantly getting up, Jamie and Claire took a shower together – that took longer than planned once Claire ended up pinned against the wall while Jamie kneeled down and had what he referred as his “english breakfast.” 

They got dressed and went downstairs to find the kids at the kitchen table having breakfast together. After a few kisses and hugs for Jamie by the children and real breakfast consumed, everyone left for their respective activities. Claire left for the hospital and the kids left with Jamie for school before he went to his studio to start some work.

In the early afternoon, Claire left the hospital and made her way to Carfax’s Close to surprise him. She walked up the familiar stairs, remembering the thousands of times she had come here. Once, Jamie didn’t allow anyone to visit him at his studio, but after their argument that night about the car crash and his fiancée, he had welcomed Claire’s presence and even sometimes preferred when she was there to keep him company when she could.

With a light knock to warn him that she was entering, Claire walked through the door and immediately stopped in her tracks.

Jamie was sitting on his stool, not painting, not drawing. Simply sitting on his stool and staring at an unopened bottle of whisky that was sitting on the table nearby.

“I’m no goin’ to drink it, Sassenach.” Jamie said without looking at her.

She pulled off her jacket, walked into the studio and draped it over the couch. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Tis a gift…” He finally met her eye, “From my friend Charlie from University, I suppose he doesna ken about my wee addiction.” Jamie half laughed and then sighed, looking back at the bottle. Claire came to stand beside him, sliding her arm around his shoulder, and he leaned his head against her chest.

“A long time ago, I woulda craved this, mo nighean donn.” Jamie moved his arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Even after that horrible night, I woulda been tempted to drink it and forget what I’d done to ye.”

“But now?”

“But now,” Jamie turned his face to look up at his beautiful wife that had stood by him for so long, “All I crave is ye.” He turned her body so that she was facing him and she straddled him, wrapping both legs around his waist as he put his hands on her back. “Ye are a great surgeon, Claire. Yer a great mother, a wonderful wife. There isna much that ye canna do.”

Claire blushed and buried her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, acrylics and his own personal musk. “There’s plenty that I can’t do, Jamie.”

“Ye canna cook, that’s for sure.” Jamie laughed, squeezing her arse gently, making her squirm on his lap. “Ye canna… well. As I said,” He pressed his lips against hers, “Ye can do anythin’ ye put yer mind to.”

“Well yes, that I do, but it’s stubbornness,” she pinched the tip of his nose.

“I still dinna know what ye decide to spend yer life wi’ a loser like me but I’m thankful,” He tried to bite at her finger, but she was too quick.

“Oh stop it, you’re stuck with me forever and nothing you can say will make me change my mind at this point,” Claire kissed him.

“I’ll take that bottle outside, put it on the stairs and I’m sure someone will grab it!” Claire laughed, and untangled herself from Jamie’s lap. When she reached for the bottle, however, she couldn’t control her hand as it started to shake and before her or Jamie could stop it, the bottle went crashing to the floor. Glass and whisky covered the ground, and Claire stood still, staring down at her hand with a subtle tremor.

“It’s okay, Sassenach. Dinna move,” Jamie said quietly and tip toed his way to the small kitchen in his studio to grab towels and something to collect the glass in.

“It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?” He said when he returned, and bent down to mop up the spilled liquid.

“Only slightly more so than the last time I noticed.” Claire said and feeling defeated, she plopped down on the stool, careful to not let her feet touch the broken glass. “I thought…”

“The doctor said that Parkinson’s can be a slowly developing disease, mo ghraidh,” Jamie did his best to collect the glass into a small pile but left it to attend to his wife. “Claire, look at me,” He tilted her chin up with his hand.

“Yer hand might shake a wee bit from time to time, and ye have that new medication to help with some of the anxiety.” Jamie brushed his thumb across her cheek.

“I know that. But if the shakin gets worse, I’ll have to stop working at the hospital and I don’t want to do that Jamie!” Claire started to cry, and leaned into his body, feeling his arms wrap around her.

“I used to ken a man who had the disease – I was just a lad, but he managed alright. He had good days when the shaking wasna so much.” Jamie stroked her hair, softly whispering things in gaelic she couldn’t understand but eased her nonetheless. “And the man had bad days, when his whole body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to, and he couldna stop the moving.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Claire looked up at him, and he wiped her tears away.

“Because, Sassenach, ye will have good days and bad days, that’s just how life works. But that old man also had a wife that loved him and she took care of him everyday. I saw how his life was better because of her in it.” Jamie kissed her softly, “I vow to ye now, Sassenach – that when ye can no longer hold yer own spoon or write a letter, that I’ll be there to help ye every step of the way… just as ye have been there for me.”

“Oh, Jamie.” Claire sighed and pulled his face to hers once again, kissing him with all her strength.

Jamie kissed her back and leaned to the side to grab a paintbrush before presenting it to her, “Let’s paint.”

“I can’t paint and you know that,” Claire looked at him amused.

“We can paint, together,” Jamie took her hand, “Come on.”

“And what do you want to paint?” Claire raised her eyebrow, looking at him amused while he set up a blank canvas and prepared some colours.

“I dinna ken, whatever ye feel like painting,” Jamie smiled at her, making his way to the record player and put on a Stevie Nicks record on.

Claire looked at him, her mouth curling into a smirk as the first notes of “Blue Denim” went off, “Now that takes me back.”

Jamie dipped his brush into the blue paint, “Ye hypnotized me that night, mo nighean.” He began to paint big strokes over the canvas and Claire watched, always fascinated.

Claire dipped her own brush into some of the red paint, but she had something else that she wanted to paint instead of the canvas. She brushed the paint quickly on Jamie’s forearm, smearing the red and he gasped, looking up at her with an open mouth.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp…” he smirked, “Ye take my good paints and ye dinna use them on the art.”

Claire bit her bottom lip, looking up at her husband, “Oh… but you are a work of art.”

Jamie squinted his eyes at her, and then decided two could play at this game. He reloaded his brush with blue paint and swiped it across her chest. “Fair’s fair.”

“My dress!” Claire laughed and looked down at herself, smudged with blue paint. “You’ll pay for this, Fraser.” She swiped at him again but he dodged her, running behind the canvas. With the music blasting and her heart racing, Claire chased him around the studio with her paintbrush in hand.

Jamie was trapped in a corner with nowhere to turn, so Claire walked up to him, pressing herself against his body so that the blue smudge on his shirt. “Let’s make purple,” she sighed and kissed him.

“See,” he growled, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist. “Ye do know how to paint.” Jamie laughed, kissing her neck and carried her over to a tarp near the easel, laying her down on her back.

Claire quickly removed her dress and panties, while Jamie made an effort to rid himself of his clothes. He stood above her, naked, his cock throbbing and she licked her lips. “Jamie,” she sighed and held up her hands. He laughed, turning to the side and placing both of his hands into the paint before climbing on top of her body.

“It’ll be cold, Sassenach.” Jamie grinned and then placed both of his paint covered hands over her breasts, squeezing and kneading until her chest and stomach was covered in paint.

She shivered slightly, and moaned as the cool paint covered her skin. She arched her back, smearing the paint over Jamie and placed both her hands on his back to press him against her. Jamie slid home, rolling his hips and chest, gliding over her. Together they rolled around in the paint, laughing and giggling like teenagers, lost in their love.