Archives for the Date September 3rd, 2020

Chapter 48 – Swimmingly


A/N: weeeeell…things are different now. :D in a good way. This is the first chapter that was finished, beta-d, and posted from Scotland (as will be the ones to follow until DH has crossed the finish line)

thank you so much for your patience, getting back into a writing routine is hard at the moment, but I did get it done. :) 

A chapter I personally adore, as will, I believe, everyone who already loves my wee William. What’s best about this chapter to me is that I was able to include a heartwarming scene that had been sitting unused in my notes document for ages, because it just didn’t fit—until now. And in hindsight I’m glad I didn’t force it into another chapter, because this is the place where it belongs.

Anyhow, without further ado, here goes chapter 48. buckle up, it’s a meaty one!

here’s also to the people who help me make Downhill what it is:

@elizabeth-beauchamp and @SassySassenach (the creator of this wonderful moodboard) and @isitgintimeyet​, and@vespertine-bloom​.

[Masterlist for Downhill on tumblr]

Saturday dawned hot and salty on her tongue.
Outside, the indigo skies were streaked with salmon and butter, but Claire only
had eyes for the ocean blue rapture praising her from under hooded lids.

“Christ,” Jamie’s chest was rising and
falling rapidly. “What a way tae start the day.”

“Mmhh.” She licked her lips as she crawled
up from her perch between his thighs.

His palm moved to cradle her face, a calloused
thumb grazing over the soft ridge of her cheekbone. “Ye look like the cat that
got the cream, Sassenach.”

“A bit too briny to put in coffee,” she
countered with a glint in her eye. “But I like it fine just as it is.”

“Ye do, aye?”

“I do.” Pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder,
Claire melted into his side, one arm and leg draped over his muscled front. “Or
did you have the impression I wasn’t enjoying myself?”

“Weel, no,” the mattress dipped slightly as
he angled his body towards hers, “but, it’s hard tae keep a straight thought
when ye’re doing that wicked thing wi’ yer tongue.”

“I’d be doing it wrong if it wasn’t hard,” she
smiled against his throat, delighting in the prickle of short, bristly hairs
against her swollen lips.

Jamie chuckled, his large hands traversing the
length of smooth skin down to her backside, kneading with gusto. “Who would’ve
guessed ye’ve such a dirty mouth on ye?”

“That a complaint, Fraser?” Claire nuzzled
the curve of his ear, inhaling the intoxicating perfume of silky hair and hot skin.

“Nah, jus’ an observation.”

“Good,” she said, softly nibbling at his
earlobe. “Because you’re not really in a position to talk.”


“You’re rather vocal yourself, you know?”

“Am I then?” His wide mouth curved into
that lopsided smile that always sent a tingle down her spine, blue eyes bright
and mischievous. “Weel, I should think that a wee bit o’ moaning and panting
comes wi’ the territory, no?”

“It does,” Claire agreed, her eyes following
the trail of her fingertip as it traced the bow of his lips. “But I didn’t mean

Catching her finger with his teeth, Jamie
nipped gently, teasingly. “No? What then?”

“Aside from all those very enticing caveman
noises you make, Fraser,” she raised her eyes to his, smiling, “you’re quite
talkative during sex.”

He released the captured digit with a soft
pop, the deep rumble of his bass tinged with genuine surprise. “I am? What am I
saying then?”

“Well, I don’t really know—most of it is in
Gaelic.” She’d noticed his tendency to fall into the language of his ancestors
whenever he was deeply moved early on. “But given the circumstances, I’d guess
you’re not exactly reciting the Holy Mass.”

The tremor of his laughter echoed in her
own belly. “Probably no’.”

Humour lingered in the corners of their
mouths as they lay in silence for a bit. Breathing each other in, they caressed
skin and soul with loving hands and devotion radiating
between them.

“You also say that you love me.”

His hand, large and tanned, and so, so
gentle, covered the pale fingers splayed out above his heart. “Aye, weel…I do.”

“I love you too, Jamie,” Claire whispered,
her lips seeking his. “More than I can say.”

“Ye dinnae need tae say it, mo ghràidh.”
He kissed her and rolled them until she lay on her back, legs falling open in
invitation, in anticipation. “As long as I ha’ yer heart, mine will ken the
truth o’ yers.”

[keep reading…]

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AO3 :: Previously


“What do we think of the wee fox cub?”

Claire whips around, medical chart in hand, to face Geillis. The smirk on her friend’s face is a little too much; Claire rolls her eyes and goes back to jotting notes. They’re halfway through the night shift, and she needs to focus on her patients, not on James Fraser.

“He’s alright, I suppose. Don’t think I’ll meet him again.”

“Ye didna exchange numbers? What is wrong wi’ ye, woman?”

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