Honeypot - The Sweet & Sexy Bits

This page is alllll about the love.  Come to here to enjoy the treasures of those precious moments between Jamie and Claire.  Eternal thanks to Diana Gabaldon for the wonderful words of love, laughter and, em, ahem...Sex.  If ye havena read all the books and dinna want spoilers, stop now.  For we promise, ye'll no be able to stop once ye've started!

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I said, a little breathless.  He grinned and pulled me close again.
“I said I was a virgin, not a monk,” he said, kissing me again.  “If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.”
He pressed me firmly to him, and I could feel that he was more than ready to get on with the business at hand.  With some surprise, I realized that I was ready too.  In fact, whether it was the result of the late hour, the wine, his own attractiveness, or simple deprivation, I wanted him quite badly.  (We dinna blame ye, there, Claire!)  

Best, Day. EVER!

Jamie let go of my hands, and stood before me, hands at his sides, stark in silhouette against the fading sky.
"Claire," he said quietly. "Tomorrow I will die. This child...is all that will be left of me--ever. I ask ye, Claire--I beg you--see it safe.”

― Dragonfly in Amber

The Printshop Scene:
          His lips moved from mine, across my cheeks and eyes.  I gently stroked his back, feeling through his shirt the marks I couldn’t see, the remnants of old scars, like my ring, worn but still distinct.
          “I’ve seen ye so many times,” he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear.  “You’ve come to me so often.  When I dreamed sometimes. When I lay in fever.  When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die.  When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face.  But ye never spoke.  And ye never touched me.”
          “I can touch you now.” I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see.  My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped my face between his hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes.
          “Dinna be afraid,” he said softly.  “there’s the two of us now.” 

            “I was more afraid this time than on our wedding night,” I murmured, my eyes fixed on the slow, strong pulsebeat in the hollow of his throat.”
            “Were ye, then?” His arm shifted and tightened round me.  “Do I frighten ye, Sassenach?”
            “No.” I put my fingers on the tiny pulse, breathing the deep musk of his effort.  “It’s only…the first time…I didn’t think it would be forever.  I meant to go, then.”
            He snorted faintly, the sweat gleaming lightly in the small hollow in the center of his chest.
            “And ye did go, and came again,” he said. “You’re here; there’s no more that matters, than that.”
            “What did you think, the first time we lay together?” I asked.  The dark blue eyes opened slowly, and rested on me.
            “It has always been forever, for me, Sassenach,” he said simply.


Jamie – on the pain of separation:
            “Do ye know what it is to live twenty years without a heart? To live half a man, and accustom yourself to living in the bit that’s left, filling in the cracks wi’ what mortar comes handy?”

"You won't leave me?" I asked at last.  "You won't die?"
      He shook his head and squeezed my hand tight.
     “You are my courage, as I am your conscience,” he whispered. “You are my heart – and I your compassion.  We are neither of us whole, alone.  Do you not know that, Sassenach?”
     "I do know that," I said, and my voice shook.  "That's why I'm so afraid.  I don't want to be half a person again.  I can't bear it."
      He thumbed a lock of hair off my wet cheek, and pulled me into his arms, so close that I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He was so solid, so alive, ruddy hair curling gold against bare skin.  And yet I had held him so before - and lost him. 
     His hand touched my cheek, warm despite the dampness of my skin.       
     "But do ye not see how verra small a thing is the notion of death, between us two, Claire?”
                    -Drums of Autumn

     “So long as my body lives, and yours - we are one flesh."
     "And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours. Claire – I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.”
                  -Drums of Autumn

(Because, is there anything better than laughing with your lover?)
     “…Are you drunk, Jamie?”
     “Dinna ken,” he said, laughing.  “But I’m sure you are, Sassenach.  Let’s go home,” he whispered, leaning close and drawing his tongue up the side of my neck.  “I want ye to make me say, ‘Oh, God,’ for ye.”
     “That…could be arranged.” I’d cooled down during our walk, but the last five minutes had lit me like a candle, and if I’d wanted to go home and take off my stays before, I was now wondering whether I could wait that long.
     “Good,” he said, pulling his hands out of my skirt.  “And then I’ll see what I can make you say, mo nighean donn.”
     “See if you can make me say, ‘Don’t stop.’”

                -Written in My Own Heart’s Blood

     "I dinna say it for pity," he said.  "But ye ken . . . now and then my bones ache a bit."
     "But not with you," he said, and covered my hand where it lay on his arm. "D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms - my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten." 

                -The Fiery Cross

       "To see the years touch ye gives me joy, Sassenach," he whispered, "-for it means that ye live." 
        He lifted his hand and let my hair fall slowly from his fingers, brushing my face, skimming my lips, floating soft and heavy on my neck and shoulders, lying like feathers at the tops of my breasts.
       "Mo nighean donn," he whispered, "mo chridhe.  My brown lass, my heart." 
        "Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me, a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you." 
            -The Fiery Cross

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