A/N: So I've fallen in love with Outlander, the books and the series. Everyone needs to read and watch because the books are beautifully written and the show works hard to maintain the spirit and storyline. Plus Sam and Caitriona are hot hot HOT! On-screen and off.
This story is the result of my fascination with Jamie/Sam's kilt and my imagining Tony/Fitz in a kilt. It's set in roughly the 18th century and I've tried to give the dialogue the Scottish accent and pronunciations it's supposed to have but I'm no expert.
Interesting bit of information: "Grant" is actually a Scottish clan name.
Olivia looks like she did when she played Broomhilda in Djang: Unchained.
Also, before anyone writes that inevitable "But how would a black family (i.e. Olivia) end up in 18th century Scotland?" review, remember that it's fanfic and roll with it. And remember that in Outlander, Claire falls through magical rocks into a different century and think about historically accurate that is.
All that being said, let's get to Fitz in a kilt!
Fitz spotted the slight figure as he rode his horse up the road, headed for the town square in hopes of finally getting some decent food. It seemed the closer he got to more industrious towns, the worse the food got. People were spending so much time modernizing that they forgot how to make proper mutton. As he got closer to the figure, he realized it was a girl, a rather petite one, with dark hair woven into a thick braid falling to her waist. She seemed to be having a rather difficult time pulling an axe from a stump where he guessed she'd been sent to chop firewood. He slowed his horse as he neared, so he could have a proper look at her before he decided if he would help.
She was thin but shapely, with skin the color of cinnamon, and wide eyes. He guessed they were brown, but couldn't be sure because he wasn't close enough yet. He stopped his horse a little ways away, taking a moment to admire the swell of her breasts pushed up and out by her corset so he wouldn't be so distracted when he went to help her.
He approached quietly and cautiously so he didn't frighten her. The last thing he needed was her mistaking him for some vagabond. He suspected she'd develop the strength of fear and take the ax to him. He smiled at the thought. There was no way she could lift the ax, must less strike anyone with it. But her father might have been around, and fathers usually had guns, so he was gentle in his approach.
"Need some help lass?" he asked. She looked up at him in surprise. She apparently hadn't heard him approach. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her high forehead. Her eyes were indeed brown, and as fathomless as the ocean. Fitz imagined falling into those eyes and swimming around forever.
"Ay. I can't get the damned thing out of the trunk." She let go of the ax and back away.
He smiled at her swearing. "Dirty mouth for a lassie. Your father will tan your hide if he hears."
It was her turn to smile. "If he could let go of the drink for more than a moment, maybe he would. I've no reason to worry about that happenin', mind ye."
"Suppose I'll have to tend ye while he's busy then." He winked and she blushed deeply. He smiled, turning away from her to unbutton his last good shirt. He took it off and turned to hand it back to her. She was closer than he'd thought, her little hand outstretched to finger the scar on his left side. It went around to his front, the blade that was its cause barely missing his kidney as his opponent had tried apparently to cut him in half. Her little hand was cold as she touched the raised flesh, pressing it gently.
"What happened?" she asked in a wondrous whisper.
"Bit o' scufflin' in a tavern. Nothin' too troublin' lassie." He handed her the shirt then slicked his hair back from his face. It had gotten long since he'd been drifting, almost at his shoulders. Had he not been so muscular, he might have passed for a girl. His mother had always remarked that he was pretty enough to be one. "Ye've got to brace yerself against the stump to get it free. See here?"
He placed his right foot on the stump then wiggled the ax free. He looked at her and she nodded. He didn't think she was big enough to do it, but he reasoned he could at least tell her. "Fetch me the wood yer choppin'."
Pressing his shirt to her bosom, inadvertently making Fitz jealous of a shirt for the first time in his life, she went to get a block of wood for him to chop. She watched with wide eyes as he split it easily. He looked at her. "You wanna keep these wee bits for kindlin'."
He stepped back to allow her to collect the shards of wood. She picked them up without a word for a few minutes before yanking her hand away with a yelp.
"I've got a splinter!" she explained, staring at her little brown hand in horror. He gathered she didn't do much hard work if a splinter brought tears to her eyes. Still, a crying girl always broke his heart. He walked over to her and took her little hand in much larger one. He had never encountered hands so soft, as if she'd never done work in her life.
"There, there, lassie. Don't cry. We'll get it out." He slicked his hair back from his face once again, thinking he needed to find someone who would give it a trim while he was in town, and his most defiant curl flopped back onto his forehead. He didn't pay it any attention, though. He was inspecting the splinter in her middle finger. It wasn't very big, but it seemed to be in rather deep. His cobalt eyes flickered to hers. "It's deep, lassie. We might have to take off the whole finger."
She sniffled, a glimmer of a smile on her pretty face. Fitz grinned. All he'd wanted was to stop her crying. He grabbed hold of the splinter and wiggled it free then wiped away the drop of blood that followed it. "There now. All better, eh lassie?"
She nodded, looking down at her little hand. She looked up at him with a little smile, not taking her hand from his. "What's your name?"
"Fitzgerald. I s'pose ye can call me Fitz. Me mates do." He pushed his hair back with his free hand, smiling down at her.
"Are we mates now? Should we be mates? Ye seem like a dangerous character, runnin' 'round gettin' in tavern brawls and earnin' stripes like that." The breeze blew her scent, soap and flowers, into his nostrils. It was a feminine combination he'd missed for many months.
He gave a handsome laugh, his head falling back then replied, "I'm harmless as a setting dove. What's yer name lassie?"
"Olivia." She smiled just so before going to get him the rest of the wood. She then took a seat in the grass opposite the stump so she could watch him chop. He made for quite the sight, glistening with sweat as his muscles flexed, the thin dark hair on his chest slicked against his tan skin, that one beautiful curl flopping into his face each time he brought the ax down. Olivia wondered where he had come from, how he came about wandering into her life. She was instantly smitten with Fitz, roguishly handsome as he was with his whiskey-colored curls. She pulled her knees to her chest and leaned her chin down on them. "Where do ye come from?"
"Many places. I've no home. Me father's part o' the Grant clan, but I want no parts o' that lot. So I just roam wherever me horse ambles." He planted the ax firmly in the stump and paused, using a flap of his kilt to wipe sweat from his brow. Olivia shamefully tilted her head to get a look at what was underneath. She'd always been curious as to whether or not it was true that lads didn't wear anything underneath them, but had the good sense to know it wasn't the most ladylike question to ask. Still, there he was and there was no one around to hear her.
"What have ye got underneath yer kilt?" she asked while she had the courage and opportunity.
Fitz looked up at her and smiled, slicking his hair back with both hands. "Wouldn't ye like to know lassie?"
Olivia blushed, hiccupped a laugh. "I dinna mean like that. I was askin' if tis true ye lads don't wear knickers 'neath it."
"Oh." Fitz laughed. "Well some lads might wear knickers. Some lads wear full breeches 'neath them so I hear. But I dunna wear much of anythin' 'less there's a chill."
She laughed like a little child, only stopping to blush at the idea that at that very moment Fitz was naked under his plaid.
"If I could be so bold, what's underneath yer plaid lassie?" He chopped a block of wood and Olivia carefully removed the smaller shards for kindling. She tossed him a smile.
"Wouldn't ye like to know laddie?" Fitz laughed. She was a spitfire. She resumed her seat opposite the stump. "Are ye stayin' in town?"
"At the inn of Mother Caldwell. D'ye ken it?" He hacked another block of wood.
Olivia nodded. "It's near me father's favorite tavern."
He smiled handsomely at her. She had never known a man to be so attractive. She was used to girlish crushes, but Fitz made her flutter in places she'd dare not articulate. "Dunna go thinkin' ye can sneak over to see me now lassie. Yer father will definitely tan yer hide if he hears o' it, drink or nah."
Olivia laughed. "I wouldna dream o' it, Mr. Grant. If ye dunna mind me askin', how long will ye be stayin' wi' Mrs. Caldwell?"
"Long enough, I s'pose. At least another night. Maybe two." He smiled at the wood as he chopped it, thinking that he might have a shave and a bath before she inevitably appeared at his door.
XXXXX
Fitz didn't expect to be in the bathtub when the long-awaited knock came at his door. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist, slicking his hair back from his face as he walked across the warm bedroom to answer the soft knocking. He smiled at the sight of Olivia standing on the other side, a shawl around her shoulders.
"I dinna mean to interrupt yer bath, Mr. Grant." She smiled at him like the cat who'd gotten the cream.
"But here ye are, lassie." She laughed and he did too, mostly because he enjoyed the sound of her girlish laugh. She was so different from the women who'd kept him company in the past few months. She wasn't a prostitute, wasn't intentionally beguiling. She was just a girl, and there was a magic to that simple fact that he found terribly intriguing. "Well no harm done. Come on in."
"I wanted to bring ye back yer shirt. I patched the tear in the sleeve for ye." She held out the shirt and Fit took it. It smelled like her. He guessed that she'd washed it with whatever she bathed with. The thought of smelling like her when he wore the shirt was strangely inviting. "And I never did thank ye fer chopping all that wood. Ye did me a lot of good. Me father was quite pleased. He dinna think I could get it done on my own."
Fitz grinned at her as he put his shirt on the bed, gesturing for Olivia to have a seat there as well if she'd like. She instead took the stool near the bathtub, smiling shyly at him. He smirked. "So ye lied to yer father about chopping the wood. Ye look like an innocent lamb but you're a bit o' a fox, aren't ye lassie?"
"Harmless as a setting dove." She grinned cheekily at him.
He laughed as he walked over to the tub. She had come right in the middle of his bathing. "I've got to get back in the tub. Cover yer eyes now, wee lass."
"I wouldna dream o' lookin' sir." She gave a teasing grin as she covered her eyes with her hands. Fitz smirked, suspecting she was peeking at him as he removed his towel then climbed into the tub. He sat down in the water then looked at her as he brushed his hair back.
"Ye can uncover yer eyes now lassie, though I s'pect ye've been peekin' at me." Olivia uncovered her eyes and smirked at him.
"I did nothin' o' the sort!" She reached out to touch his hair and withdrew her hand upon finding it knotted and slightly slick with what she guessed was sweat. "When's the last time ye washer yer hair?"
"I dunna ken. Is it amok?" He turned to look at her.
She frowned. "Like ye've never owned a comb."
"I havena so I guess that's fittin'." He smiled boyishly. She stood and began searching the room. Upon inspecting the drawer of the stand that held the washbowl, she found a comb. She picked up the pitcher of steaming water sitting on the floor next to the tub and looked down at the mass of dark curls on his head.
"Where did ye put the soap?" she asked as she set the comb on the stool. He produced a lump of soap and she took it from him. "Lean yer head back now, so I can wet yer hair."
He did as he was told, closing his eyes dreamily. Olivia poured the warm water on his hair and began raking through it with the comb, gently untangling the knots. "Ye ought take better care o' yer hair. It's verra nice for ye to be a rogue."
"A rogue? Me? I'm practically an alter boy!" He smiled mischievously as she began working the soap into a lather to his locks.
"Whose alter is the question laddie." She pinched his stubbly cheek. "Ye could use a shave too. D'ye not have a woman to remind ye to take care o' yerself?"
"I s'pose if I did, I wouldna be here wi' such a temptin' little minx." She combed his locks until they were tangle free and lathered them until they smelled like soap before moving on to lather his face. "I havena got a razor, lassie."
She went to back to the stand beneath the washbowl and found a razor in the drawer. "Here's one."
She stood before him, looking down at his handsome face, the razor in her little hand.
"I take it ye can shave me wi' out cutting my throat."
"I havena decided yet." He laughed handsomely, his Adam's apple bobbing. She moved close with the razor and took a moment to admire his beautifully sculpted face before getting to work shaving his stubbly face. "Ye have verra delicate skin for a lad. 'Tis verra soft."
"Ye have softer hands than I've ever encountered, like baby hands really." Her scent enveloped him and he enjoyed the gentle rhythm of her breathing. Coupled with her slow and steady working hand, he found himself almost relaxed to sleep. But there could be no sleep with such a beautiful girl alone in his room. When she finished shaving him, she took his wash rag and cleaned his face, one hand resting on his cheek while the other wiped away the leftover soap. "Are ye plannin' to stay the night, lassie? It's getting' to be near me bedtime."
Olivia smiled at him as she stepped back so he could stand up. She admired the sinewy muscles of his back and blushed at the sight of his bare bottom. "S'pose I'd better stay. T'was nearly dark when I got here."
Fitz went to his rucksack and pulled out his nightshirt, mindful to keep his back to her. Olivia wished he wouldn't be so polite. She'd never seen a naked man before. And they both knew why she'd come. There was no need for such pretense. She watched as he pulled the nightshirt over his head then stood to remove her corset. Now came the fun part. She looked at him, smiling as he ran his fingers through his clean hair. "Can ye unlace me dress? It ties in the back and I canna reach it."
He turned around to smile mischievously at her. "And just why are ye stripping down to yer knickers? I'll not be sharing the blankets with ye, lassie."
"That's no way to treat a guest, Mr. Grant. Especially one who tended to ye so kindly." He laughed as he walked over to her. He unlaced the back of her dress and pushed the fabric off her shoulders. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she realized that the room was not very warm.
"Yer cold. I'll stoke the fire." His hand brushed the valley of her lower back before he went to put more wood on the fire. She watched and found herself curious about the curly hair on his thighs, and the smattering of whiskey curls on his chest. There was so much of him she wanted to explore. She slipped her dress off, leaving it in a heap on the floor on top of her corset and stepped out of her shoes. Clad in only her slip, she went to his bed and climbed into it. Fitz was surprised to find her there when he turned around. She smiled, reaching back to undo her braid.
"Allow me, lassie." He was quickly next to her on the bed, his hands in her hair as he unwove her thick hair. He leaned forward to breathe in its floral scent. She tensed when his hands slipped from her hair to her breasts. She relaxed in his arms after a moment, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. His lips skittered over the curve of her ear. "Ye needn't be frightened lassie. It's all natural. Ye'll see."
She turned around to kiss him and he pulled her into his arms, holding her thighs on either side of him. Her warm sex pressed against his stomach and that feeling alone made him want to come out of his skin. He traced cartwheels on her tender flesh, setting her body atremble. The fluttering returned to her insides as she pecked his lips curiously. She'd never kissed a man, much less been in such a position when she did. Fitz allowed her to move at her own pace and get comfortable with him. She gasped with his member stiffened against the inside of her right thigh and he smiled.
"Ye've officially gotten me under yer spell lassie." She smiled against his mouth, darting her tongue out to lick his lips. He nipped it with his teeth and made her laugh. His hands kneaded the flesh of her back, soon moving down to take hold of the slip's hem and pull it up. She sat up so he could slip the thin cotton off her body, leaving her naked before him. He planted kissed down her neck to her collarbone. She gasped as he kissed the length of it, his mouth warm and his tongue delightfully soft against her bare, goose-bumped flesh. He moved down her body, taking her left nipple in his mouth to tug on it gently while doing the same to the right with his hand. She trembled in earnest then, her body alive with sensations the likes of which she'd never experienced. His lips switched to her right nipple, his hand to her left while his other hand searched for lower destinations.
"Slippery as a waterweed, lassie," he murmured upon finding her center eagerly awaiting him. She couldn't reply even though her mouth hung open. It was no wonder the priest was always raving to the youth about waiting until marriage to venture into the pleasures of the flesh. If people knew such things at such a young age, they'd rut like animals. There was certainly something animalistic about the need welling up inside her. He released her breast to take hold of her hip, lifting her up so that the tip of his now painful erection rubbed against her entrance. He looked up at her face. "This isna gonna feel verra good at first lassie."
She nodded and braced herself, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Fitz pulled her down onto his shaft, letting out a throaty groan that covered the sound of Olivia's shocked hiss. She hadn't been expecting so much pressure. She felt like he was splitting her in half. She hadn't really looked but she guessed he must have been quite big to make her feel that way. She choked out a sob when he tore through the barrier of her innocence and Fitz winced at the pained look on her face, reaching up to cup her cheek. He kissed her lips gently. "I'm sorry Livvie. It gets better. I promise."
Again she nodded, and spread her legs wider to relieve some of the pressure. Fitz sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, gently moving her up and down on his length to accustom her to the feeling. He bit her shoulder, restraining himself from chasing the glorious sensations. It had been so long since he'd been with a virgin that he'd forgotten how good it felt to venture into unchartered territory. He felt a strong sense of possessiveness as she clung to him. Wherever she went, with whomever she did, he'd always be the first. Tonight she was his. Tomorrow, well he wouldn't be so presumptuous as to make claims on a day he hadn't seen. He reached between their bodies and found her bundle of nerves, nestled between her slick folds, waiting there for him to be the first to explore it. He rubbed it with his thumb, first gently, then a little harder when she began humming at the pleasure. Her fingers twined in his hair and she caught his earlobe between her teeth, letting out a breathless little "ah!" when he lifted her and brought her down with a little more force. He smiled against the hollow of her throat. He liked that noise. He wanted more of that noise. He pressed harder on her bundle of nerves, moving his thumb in a circular motion as he moved her against him with enough force to make her repeat that breathless little "ah!" Soon it was the only sound that could be heard in the room besides his grunts and the crackling of the fire.
Her cries soon took on a higher pitch, her nails digging into his shoulders as her knees began to shake. Fitz smiled, knowing what was coming. Olivia closed her eyes, her head falling back. His mouth watered at the sight of her breasts heaving against him as she rode the waves of pleasure taking over her body. He couldn't resist taking one nipple between his teeth to pull on it gently and using his fingers to do the other, eliciting keening cries from her lips as she crested the final tidal wave of her orgasm. He watched with rapt eyes as she froze in a silent scream for a beautiful moment that quickly dissolved her into a quivering heap of flesh in his arms. He kissed her sweaty brow, still moving her body against his as he worked toward his own climax. He knew it wouldn't take much, especially when she began rocking her hips against his, matching him stroke for stroke. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open as she gasped ragged breaths, her whole body seemingly moving without the control of her brain. She wasn't thinking, just feeling him and reacting the only way she could. He exploded with a guttural groan and fell back against his pillows, pulling her down with him. He continued to move inside her, purely for emotional satisfaction. She finally lifted her face to look at him and smiled.
"S'pose ye'll have to stay the night now lassie." And then they laughed, a gentle harmonious laugh that quieted only with their kisses.
A/N: I really hope y'all liked this! Don't forget to review! XOXO