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No Way Home

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"When I stepped out and saw ye in yer wedding dress, it was as if the clouds have parted," he whispered to her. She could feel her cheeks redden, but no matter.
"You certainly didn't wait too long to remove it," she teased.
The dress in question was now lying on the floor beside Jamie's - their - bed. Claire agreed it was magnificent. Mrs Fitz was truly a magic worker.
The dress was almost medival in design, bum roll, corset and all. It was white and silver with little flowers adorning the edges and sleeves. With a complex hairdo to match - provided by no other than Fergus, who must've helped his old mistresses prepare for different occasions - she felt like a true princess.
It was Jamie who fitted the description of the sun shining through the clouds, in her opinion. Dressed in all his Scottish regalia - where on earth did he find a sporran and a Fraser kilt, she didn't know - his hair clean and tamed, his striking blue eyes twinkling with joy and excitement and love. Murtagh walking behind him, his best man, little Fergus hurrying after them with the rings and with Hugh in tow, who insisted on throwing flower petals in the air.
"I forgot to ask, where did you find the rings?"
He entwined his fingers with hers, testing the new feeling of metal on them.
"They belonged te my parents," he said.
"Jenny didn't want them?" She continued to play with their fingers.
He shook his head. "She and Ian have been marrit fer ages, mam and da were still alive." He pulled her to him.
"I think yer bra is a bit much fer the occasion, seeing as I'm waiting naked," he said and busied his hands with the clasp of the offending cloth.
"It's not my fault you went full Scot today. How was I supposed to know there was nothing under that kilt?"
He shook his head and smirked. "I think ye wanted there te be nothing, Sassenach. Dinna play innocent wi' me."
She playfully pushed him away and undid the bra herself.
"There. Calm?"
He nodded, satisfied. His hands immediately went to her breasts, fondling and squeezing. She didn't let him have all the fun, seeing as her hands were available, she sent one to his hair and the other to his cock. At first, she thought the roll of his eyes signified pleasure, but was soon proved wrong.
"Get away!" He almost screamed. Claire immediately withdrew her hands and sat up, only to watch her man, so recently confident, crumble. He curled into a fetal position and started shaking with sobs within the minute.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated.
She slowly placed her hand next to his, only barely touching his pinky finger.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said, remembering how he comforted her while crying in the same bed.
"I thought…" he started, then sat up, determined to look at her while explaining. He did grab the hand that she offered.
"I thought if I married ye… I'd have something official te show I was yer's… not his. But… I felt yer hand touching me, and it felt sea good, and I looked at ye and saw his face." He squeezed her hand, as if to confirm that she has listened.
"It was wrong. The wedding. Should've waited like ye said. I'm no… I'm not myself's yet. I canna be yer's, no matter how much I want ye. Ye deserve better."
She pulled him to her, holding his face between the palms of her hands. Tears were still leaving his eyes, but the shaking stopped.
"You have me," she said. "And I have you. No one else has you, okay? If that bastard wants you, he has to go through me, just like Laoghaire. Okay?"
He chuckled through his tears. "He's no… he isna like Laoghaire."
She shrugged. "It's the same for me, really. Both are trying to compete with me and God be my witness, Jamie, I'm going to win. Okay?"
He seemed to relax a little and she smiled. "Now. I'll wait as long as you need for sex, okay? We don't have to do it before you're ready."
He gave her a look of determination. "Tis our wedding night, lass. Wouldn't be complete if I didn't give ye cause te scream my name."
"If you do, you can be sure Jenny will scream both of ours in the morning. We live with a baby, Jamie."
"Then I guess ye're going te have te stay quiet," he smirked. Before Claire knew it his face was between her legs, making it very hard to keep her resolve of not screaming.


"It was a really small, private ceremony, and it only lasted, like, ten minutes. Vows, cake, they didn't even dance because we didn't have music. You wouldn't have liked it anyway."
"Aye, I kent that, that's why I dinna come. Would've enjoyed the groom though," Laoghaire remarked bitterly.
"Wouldn't we all," John said, mostly to himself.
Laoghaire gave him a surprised look, then decided not to dwell on that for the time being.
"Look at us. Picking carrots like a pair of old spinsters," she complained.
"And we're the youngest people here!" John added, struggling with a root determined to stay in the ground. "Well, expect for Fergus and little Jamie, but they don't count."
She gave him a long, measuring look before speaking again.
"I don't hate ye. Even though ye're a filthy redcoat fiend."
He shrugged. "I don't hate you either, even though you called Claire a witch."
"Oh I called that witch all manner of other things," she said, her cheeks warming up. "It does'na matter. My mam said they didn't even have sex last night. Mebbe she's got a broomstick instead of a cauldron, aye?" She seemed very pleased with herself at the joke, but as John frowned she added a childish "what?"
"It doesn't matter what she has, it's clearly something both of us don't. Jamie likes her. We should accept that."
She looked at him with surprise. "Accept? Ye got all yer friends hammered and knocked out yer boss te be wi' Jamie, now ye want te accept?"
He shrugged and she shook her head in disbelief.
"Weel I wilna," she said with new resolve. "And when I get Jamie, ye can steal a kiss from him. Fer being my friend."
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Friend?"
"Not even my grandmother worried about me when I didn't come te that abominable wedding. Ye did."
He thought quickly before speaking. "I'll be your friend, but maybe leave them alone? I like Jamie, I want him to be happy. She seems to make him happy. Shouldn't we… you know… just be happy for them?"
"Yer heart is too big, Johnny. I'll get him, you'll see. But thanks fer the friendship. I dinna… laugh wi' anyone my age since the plague."
He held her hand. "Well, as long as you don't kill anyone, I'd love to laugh with you, Laoghaire."
"And if I do?"
"You know what I did to my old friends." He winked. "Let's get the carrots inside, shall we? Your grandmother saved you a slice of cake, wouldn't want it to go bad."