The ache begins within her heart, slowly kneading its way through her body, settling in the pit of her stomach. Claire gets this way whenever Jamie isn't around. The slow desire always kindling for him somewhere deep, but the ache, that's something different. She feels it tingle in her fingertips, begging for his touch, her lips itching for the scruffy scratch as if parched of water, yearning to be drowned in the love she can feel with just a look.
She wanders around their room, removing clothing, struggling to get the ties in the back, the ones he helps her with every night. His strong, yet somehow nimble, fingers delicately undressing her, unless the heat has taken them over, an inferno demanding she be ripped from her the material that binds her, before allowing her to collapse into his arms.
The house has a chill to it, and the gooseflesh spreads across her skin with nothing but her shift to shield her, threatening to prick her bit by bit, little reminders that the man who warms her is not there.
Letting her hair loose, she contemplates braiding it before crawling under the blankets, but forgoes the task, leaving it instead to curl wildly, surely tangling into a mess while she sleeps.
Her toes feel numb across the wood of the floor, the cold seeping into every part of her. Her dark hair haloes across his pillow, as she tucks her feet beneath the blanket. The scent of Jamie surrounding her, her side of the bed completely abandoned when he's away. Because if she can't have his arms wrapped around her, she'll resign to burying her face in the smell of home.
Her hands reach for underneath the pillow, smothering them still, supporting her head, as if capturing the essence of him, and holding him to her.
For as lively as the big house was, it felt empty without him. Her days busy, distracting her mind from the absence felt, but always at night, when the sounds died down, and only the crickets outside chirping, she felt her heart skitter in its loss, syncopating to the loss of the beat that was always within her reach.
Mind wandering through the tasks of tomorrow, she says a silent prayer, one she'd heard Jamie whisper over her more than once, asking to please keep him safe as he travels, walking a fine line through the fires of treachery and loyalty.
The events of the past few days weigh on her, but with hope and anticipation growing, counting the loaves of promise as she slowly drifts off to sleep.
It's only when she feels the bed dip, rough hands easing gently over her, that she feels herself jolt awake, only to feel scruff of an dimpled chin rubbing against her neck, that she settles. Scooting her backside into the man demanding to be moulded to her, she sighs.
"Yer on my side," he says with the tiniest of pinches to her ass, his tone playful, but she can feel the stress radiating off of him in waves, his hands gripping her tightly, pulling her to him.
"I wasn't expecting you home," she sighs into the arm that she's come to rest her head on, the soft hair tickling her cheek.
"Rode all night," he mumbles against her hair, breathing her in as if she were the air that sustained him.
"Hmm," she hums, his hand lacing her fingers into his own, and she feel his eyes in the dark watching as her ring glints against the moonlight that trickles in through their window.
Reaching back, her hand finds his fully clothed thigh, not having even wanted to strip down before climbing into bed with her, the urgency to wrap his arms around the calm waves of her dreams, evident in his haste.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks, her thumb tracing an invisible seam before hooking his leg over her hip. Her head tilts to where her lips whisper the words like a promise of support across his face, his lips buried in her neck, refusing to vacate, as if absorbing her pulse, finding strength in the steady beat of her heart.
"I'm gonna lose everything…" he mutters into her, a choke of the words, wetting her own eyes.
"Jamie—" she begins, before he finishes.
"I can't protect everyone."
And there it was.
The grip he has on her hand tightens, his leg hooking her impossibly close, attempting to shield her from anything in the future that dared to take her from him. She knew he wasn't just speaking of her, his expedition with Knox in search of Murtagh, no doubt crushing him with guilt, as he fought on a side of history he never wanted to be apart of.
She can feel his heavy breathing, shuddering in fear, the evidence of his need for her pressing against her.
"I'm right here," she assures him turning over to face him, his lips finding her quickly, the rustling of his pants, kicking them down echoing through the room. Briefly releasing her from his grasp, shifting around before she feels his hand rucking her shift up to rest on her hips, lifting her leg, a sigh of contentment escapes her, swallowed by his mouth, as he enters her.
The ache from before no longer pulsing with loss, but filled with an unending need for more.
As he moves within her, her eyes threaten to flutter close, but she forces them open, blearily staring at the man inside her, so willing giving himself to her, vulnerably articulating his fears with every thrust, urgent but slow, unable to get enough, and unwilling for it to end. Claire's mouth moves with his, gasping openly into each other, his arm wrapping around her torso, sheltering her heaving chest between them, guarding safe their hearts as they race through the dark in search of a future that's unclear.
"Sorcha…" he breathes into her, a smile spreading across her lips, her hips pressing down into his thrust, sending a jolt through them both, his eyes piercing through her, small bundles of light exploding behind her eye lids, as she falls, lighting the way for him, he grabs her hand, side by side, refusing to let go.
They remain clasped as her heart settles, her breathing ragged, but her eyes refusing to leave the blue that travels over her, as if making sure every piece of her is still there, safe.
"I'm not going anywhere," she tries, refusing to let him leave her, her free hand moving to untangle what's left of his ponytail, most of his curls having escaped. Her fingers comb through the knots, massaging his scalp, until he's pliably melting into her, his mouth once again burying in her neck.
The chirping of the crickets the only sound that creeps into the cocoon they've made for themselves, shrouding each other from the world in just that one moment, protecting each other from anything that threatens to tear them apart. Her fingers get lost in the curls, his soft breathing lulling her to sleep, tomorrow's problems forgotten only for a moment, the support of each other found in the arms of one another.
"Ye smell like bread, Sassenach."
The silence filled with the soft laughter of them both.