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safarigirlsp · 4 years

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So excited to see you open requests! Your Flip and Charlie writings were 😍 (also moodboards for both stories are gorgeous!) I totally thought you’ve been writing for awhile (I’m new so still getting caught up around here)! Can I request a fic where Reader has to convince her man why Halloween is the best holiday? This may have been inspired by that AD clip 😏 I feel like the prompt can go fluffy or smutty and work with a few of the boys so author’s choice to pick!

Going to a Halloween party with Charlie, please???

Thank you for your requests! I really had a fun time with this one. I did this for Charlie, but if you want to read about Flip being a grumpy ass during Halloween too, I did something with that in Here Kitty, Kitty. I hope you enjoy!

Savor Each Sensation

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Lots of Smut and Fluff

Charlie Barber never used to hate Halloween. He used to look forward to it. He used to look forward to taking Henry trick or treating, to matching costumes with him. That was before Henry was taken to Los Angeles by his rancid ex-wife.

Now, Charlie didn’t get to spend Halloween with Henry very often, and when he did it was in the muggy L.A. weather amidst the garish palm trees decorated with orange lights and the out of place jack o’lanterns, left to wilt into premature humiliation in the California heat.

Worse yet, Halloweens in L.A. were also spent being conscripted into going out trick or treating with a group. A group that consisted of his ex, her family, and her newest dithering simp of a boyfriend. All of them an omnipresent white noise corroding his time with his son. Even Henry was an unwitting source of disappointment, being so consumed with everything going on with Halloween and his friends, Charlie was little more than an afterthought anymore.

Charlie had grown bitter about the holiday, to say the least.

Unfortunately for Charlie, it was your favorite holiday, and you were his new fiancée. You loved everything about the season. Autumn was the most colorful, vibrant time of year, with just the perfect crisp lingering in the air. You even wanted an October wedding, a desire you had yet to spring on Charlie.

The culmination of your favorite season was your favorite holiday, Halloween. You loved the parties, the excuse to dress up and forget your responsibilities for an evening, the scary movies, haunted houses, and all the spooky chills and jump scares you could get.

This year, Charlie had elected to stay in New York to oversee some last-minute rehearsals of his play opening the first week of November. What a perfect opportunity to show him how, with you at least, Halloween was indeed the best holiday.

Charlie’s theatre company threw a Halloween party annually at the theatre. Of course, the acting troupe enjoyed any opportunity to dress up and be more flamboyant than usual. Charlie rarely attended himself, usually due to his trips to L.A. This year you insisted that he take you. An opportunity to show you off, which you both enjoyed, if nothing else.

Even Charlie couldn’t help but grin at the costumes you had chosen for you both. A draped dress in scarlet silk for you and a solid black suit for him, complete with an ivory half mask. A chic, modern Christine and Phantom of the Opera.

Every eye in the theatre turned to you both when you made your entrance, and few had left either of you since. Charlie, too, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He couldn’t go more than a few moments without raking you with his gaze and giving you a smile or a kiss, his hand never leaving your back, neck, or your own hand, your fingers laced together. He looked particularly debonair with his tailored black suit accentuating his huge frame and his thick dark hair swept back in tousled waves. You smirked up at him when you saw the longing jealous eyes of some of the newer actresses latch onto you both, earning a wink down at you from Charlie as his hold on you tightened.

Conversation filled the theatre, the acoustics allowing you to hear dialogue easily from across the room. While Charlie was immersed in the necessary pleasantries of greeting the people in his company, you listened to some of the ancillary conversations. Several different discussions surrounded the alleged ghosts of the theatre. Especially on Halloween, it seemed, the spirits could be heard moaning throughout the lonely theatre. A few people attested to even having witnessed a diaphanous specter themselves. Many had heard the lingering moans and wails.

The party was already in full swing. Halloween themed music resounded throughout the theatre while people drank and danced on the stage. The theatre itself was decorated beautifully, lit only by endless strings of fairy lights, and flickering LED torches and lanterns. The makeshift bar was generously stocked and resplendent with skulls and cobwebs. A long table sat along the side of the stage, heavy with delicacies. What caught your eye was the stack of gourmet candy apples.

Charlie followed your gaze and was quick to grab you each one of the luscious candy apples. Always the gentleman, he found a knife and cut your apple for you, preserving your carefully applied lipstick. He held a slice to your lips, tracing the fruit along your lower lip before allowing you to close your lips around it. You sucked the tip of his finger into your mouth as you did, flicking it with your tongue before releasing it. Charlie’s eyes upon you darkened, gleaming with lust in the dimness of the stage.

When you both finished your apples he pulled you into the middle of the stage, holding you close against him, as he swayed to the music with you.

Charlie was a great dancer and a strong lead, effortlessly moving you across the stage as he danced with you. He loved the theatrics of twirling you and, of course, dipping you impossibly low for a passionate kiss.

He danced with you in his warm embrace long into the evening, pausing only when you each felt the need for a glass of wine as an interlude.

You shifted your weight side to side as you sipped your wine, alternating between your feet that had begun to ache in your too ambitiously tall heels. Charlie noticed. He took a seat in one of the chairs set around the stage and pulled you into his lap. You could feel he was half hard already when you fell into place on top of his thick thighs. Turning your head to kiss his cheek sweetly, you leaned your back against his proud chest as you purposefully ground your ass against his cock decidedly unsweetly.

“Don’t think I’m above fucking you right here, sweetheart,” Charlie whispered into your ear before biting it teasingly.

“I’m sorry, is that supposed to be a deterrent?” You rubbed your ass harder against his hardening cock.

Charlie growled as he pulled your hips down against his cock that was now straining beneath his suit pants.

“If you want my cock that badly, I won’t keep you waiting,” his statement was punctuated with a bite to your neck.

His large hands lifted your hips, steadying you as he rose, trailing off of you in a slow lingering caress as he moved toward the stage exit.

You said your goodbyes and made your way out of the theatre, Charlie leading you out with his large hand at your back. Luckily, the theatre was dim enough that no one noticed Charlie’s erection throbbing inside his fitted black trousers.

When you reached the exit, Charlie steered you away down a hallway, leaning down to growl in your ear, “I’m not waiting through taxis and traffic to get you home and fuck you when I can have you screaming my name in the next ten minutes right here.”

You smiled wickedly up at him, “Surely, you’re not actually having a good time, Charlie? On Halloween, no less?” You reached a hand to pinch his ass playfully, earning a teasing glare and a lopsided grin from him.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Charlie led you down a dark unfamiliar hallway and down a flight of stairs.

“It’s a surprise,” he teased you.

“I thought you might enjoy fucking me in your office,” you replied sultrily.

“Did you really think the Phantom would fuck you in an office, darling?” His eyes gleamed devilishly as he grinned back at you.

You hadn’t realized that you had circled back toward the center of the theatre until the music began to grow louder as you walked.

Finally, you arrived at an old wooden door that Charlie opened and held for you. You found yourself in the large underbelly of the stage itself. It was dim, lit only by the faint light that trickled down through the floorboards of the stage overhead. The music adopted an eerie quality once filtered through the wooden floor and mixed with the conversations from above you. The space itself was crowded with props, mannequins, costumes, and all the accoutrements of the theatre. Centered in the room was a large work table, littered with fabric and smaller props.

Charlie approached you from behind, wrapping his powerful arms around your waist and pulling your back against his meaty chest. His lips were hot and wet on your neck as he dragged his teeth along your sensitive skin before laving you with open mouthed kisses.

You reached a hand to twist into his thick hair as his lips raised a rash of goosebumps across your shoulders and neck, moaning his name at the pleasure he could give you with only his lips.

Charlie’s hands moved to unzip your dress, pushing the material off your shoulders, letting it fall around your feet in a cascade of crimson silk.

You turned to face him, running your palms over his broad chest. Lust glittered in Charlie’s honeyed eyes as he admired your lingerie with an indulgent smile. You had purchased a new set just for him, for tonight. His hands immediately found your breasts, squeezing them and running his thumbs over your nipples through the thin black eyelash lace of your long-line balconet bra. His eyes caressed your curves down to your matching lace garter belt and thong. You rubbed your nylon encircled thighs together, teasing yourself with the feel of the slick slide of the fabric.

“Am I lifting your spirits yet, Charlie,” you asked with a smirk.

He grinned down at you, “That’s not the only thing you’re lifting.” He lowered his head to kiss you deeply, pulling you against him and digging his cock into your stomach.

Charlie’s warm lands travelled down your sides, skimming your curves, as he kissed you slowly. His jaw worked hungrily as his plush lips and hot tongue pulled sighs from your throat. His mouth trailed from your lips along your jaw as his hands slid down to grip your ass, before dropping his lips to the side of your neck, where his kisses turned to wet mouthed bites.

A large hand traced the lace of your thong from the top of your ass around your hip, teasing a finger underneath the lace, until he reached the front of your pussy, rubbing you through the thin fabric.

Before he could go further, you pushed yourself back from him, keeping him at arms length by your hands on his chest. Charlie’s lips lingered on your neck, bending forward to follow you with his mouth until you pulled too far back.

You cocked an eyebrow as you wagged a finger at him, warning him to stay put. You sauntered coquettishly over to the work table, splaying your hands on the wood and spreading your legs as you bent over. You arched your back and pushed your ass out for him, made easier by the height of your stilettos. You intentionally wiggled your ass as you settled into your position, ensuring he had a full view of your glistening pussy, perfectly framed by your crotchless panties.

You heard Charlie’s sharp intake of breath behind you. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned as he approached you.

“Do you like your treat?” You teased, looking back over your shoulder.

“Let me show you much I fucking like it,” Charlie was behind you now, cock pressing against your ass through his suit pants. His hands smoothed up your thighs to grip your hips. He leaned down over your back, chest pressing against you to kiss behind your ear as he whispered low into it, “I’d like to eat my treat now.”

Charlie knelt behind you, using his grip on your hips to pull your ass further out, and without preamble, shoved his face into your pussy. His large nose prodded at your entrance as his lips and tongue kissed and sucked hungrily at your pussy.

Every muscle in your body shuddered with pleasure, pulling your head back in a lewd moan that echoed throughout the room.

“You taste better than fucking candy,” he growled into your pussy, the low rumbling tone of his voice vibrating into you.

Charlie was superbly talented with his mouth, only taking him a few minutes of working your pussy with his lips, tongue, and even his nose, until your hips were pushing back into him and bucking involuntarily.

“Fuck me now, handsome,” you moaned as your thighs started to shake. You wanted this to be about him, to make this Halloween with you his favorite holiday.

Charlie’s hands on your hips gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he moved lower to suck your clit into his mouth. “Trust me,” Charlie’s deep voice rumbled against your pussy. “Savor each sensation.”

“Oh, fuck, Charlie,” you giggled. “Are you actually quoting The Phantom of the Opera while you have your tongue in my pussy?”

You felt him grin against your folds as he groaned in affirmation, “You’ve always told me that I have such a talented tongue, kitten.”

“Yes, you sure fucking do,” you whimpered, feeling your pussy tightening around nothing. “But, I don’t want to cum on your tongue tonight. I want to cum on that giant cock of yours.”

Charlie slowed enough to kiss your pussy languidly for a few delicious seconds, sending shudders through your entire body.

Upon straightening behind you, he paused only long enough to undo his belt and shove his pants down his thighs to free his eager dripping cock.

Your jaw fell slack, a sob of ecstasy escaping your throat, when Charlie pushed his massive cock into you fully with one smooth thrust. A few slow drags of his cock in and out of you allowed you to adjust to his substantial size before he angled his hips as he picked up his pace, angled just right to hit your favorite spots. He had fucked you enough to know your pussy better than any of his scripts, each of his thrusts rubbing you perfectly.

You had been so close to cumming from Charlie’s mouth, that you felt the weighted heat of pleasure pooling in your core after only a few short minutes of his cock driving into you.

Your thighs were shaking and your pussy tightening with every thrust of Charlie’s cock and every slam of his hips against you. Charlie felt it and knew what you needed. He gripped your hips more tightly and pulled your ass back to him with every thrust, meeting him roughly as he pounded you harder, as he pounded your pussy into clenching around his cock as you came in quivering waves.

Charlie groaned loudly as your pussy fluttered around his cock. He stroked one large hand along your back soothingly as he ground his still hard cock into you, fucking you through your aftershocks.

He had yet to cum when he pulled out of you, rubbing the thick head of his cock along the outside of your pussy and your ass.

“Turn around,” his voice was deep, thick with lust. “I want to see your gorgeous face when I fill you up with my cum.”

Once you turned to face him, Charlie hooked his hands under your ass, lifting you up onto the table. The wood was cool on your back when you stretched out beneath Charlie, ensuring he had a beautiful view of your lacy tits. He pulled both of your legs up, placing your ankles on his shoulders and turned his head to kiss your ankle as he slid his hands down along your silky nylon clad thighs.

One hand remained stroking your thigh while his other aligned his cock with your wanting pussy.

It was Charlie’s turn to let a low primal groan rumble through his thick chest as he sank his cock into you again, the sound reverberating off the walls of the echoing chamber.

“Fuck, I love your little pussy,” he growled as he settled his cock inside you. “Always so wet for me. And so fucking tight. Always the perfect fit for my cock.”

Charlie set a fast pace, slamming his cock into you roughly. You reached your arms out above your head, arching your back and letting your tits bounce for him as he pounded into you. You sighed and whined with every thrust, your pussy eager to cum again around his massive cock.

You felt Charlie’s cock begin to throb inside you as his rhythm faltered and his brow furrowed. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it almost too aggressively as he fucked into you, pushing you into another orgasm.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Charlie!” You moaned loudly as you came again.

Charlie growled above you as your pussy seized around his cock. He came with a huffed shout, his cock pulsing with each burst of cum he pumped into you.

Your legs dropped from his shoulders to wrap around his waist and you sighed in ecstasy as he panted above you, both breathless. You reached to his shaggy hair, running your fingers through it and pulling him down to kiss you deeply.

He purred against your lips, his hands running the length of your stockinged legs that were now hooked around his waist.

“What do you think of Halloween now?” You whispered against his lips.

Charlie’s mouth turned up in a smile as he kissed you, “I think I just showed you, sweetheart.”

****************************************************************************************************

The Halloween party that year was the talk of the entire theatre company, and had even become gossip among the Broadway community. The very ghosts of the theatre themselves had come out that night. Many of the actors swore that they heard the spirits moaning, faintly but distinctly, reverberating all around the theatre. From the rafters, the darkened corners, even from the very floorboards of the stage itself, eldritch moans and growls could be heard echoing eerily throughout the theatre that night.

Neither of you would ever spoil those rumors. You and Charlie were both flattered that your lovemaking was now quite literally the stuff of legend. It was certainly the best and most memorable Halloween that either of you ever had.

****************************************************************************************************

Tagging some Charlie lovers. As always, feel free to ignore my bs.

@direnightshade @mariesackler @sydneyssmut @candycanes19 @emeraldsiren19 @finn-ray-nal-beads @historyandfandoms50 @sacklerscumrag @cowboy-kylo @thegreenmatt @clumsycopy @contesa-lui-alucard @ellelaconi

#my stuff!#my writing #halloween #writing requests #charlie barber x you #Charlie #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #fic #best

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hopeshoodie · 3 years

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I feel so bad letting this sit for so long, but better late than never I suppose! Thank you to literally everyone who tagged me in this. Literally every time I see these posts it makes me grin like an absolute dope at my phone. This is one of the best fandoms I’ve ever been in. I know I joke that I’m just sitting in my corner making garbage, so thank yall for making the room my corner is in so lovely.

So here’s a shoutout to the people who made my 2020 better. If I’m following you (from my main @hyperspacial because despite being on tumblr for nearly a decade I still hardly know how to run a sideblog) I 100% like you. I’m sorry if I forget to tag people :( Also this is about to be a long ass post- don’t feel obligated to reply or like or whatever just because you’re tagged :P

@garyandhisnan. I just…. I adore you. Highkey would walk to the ends of the earth if you asked. Your writing, your posts, everything is top notch (and you’re an awesome person to boot which like… shouldn’t be allowed). Thank you for letting me rant about American late-stage capitalism and all the other nonsense I flood your inbox with. If yall aren’t following them, go do it now.

@deuchess

@ariendiel Why you would want to collaborate with me, ME, of all people? Still astounds me. I pinkie promise we’re gonna do it though, and it’s gonna be so good. I’m so excited. But seriously, your fics are some of the only ones that I can keep coming back to. Your writing is *chefs kiss* and your edits/moodboards are literally so pretty. I love your blog and I cherish you, you slut cheat.

@kiki-the-creator same brain saME BRAIN SAME BRAIN how do we have the exact same brain!? Your fics literally are the best thing this fandom has produced- I come up with these half baked concepts, you make them actually good, then I play dollhouse with them over and over again in my head forever :3 That Erikah fic? Literally every Marisol fic you write?? I love them. Also you’re highkey so funny and ugh. Te adoro.

@bubblelaureno you’re literally too good for me. For real. I’m sorry I’m so shitty about keeping up to date with fics and edits, you deserve way more than my shitty memory and my 2 second long attention span. Your blog is literally a beacon of positivity and it’s absurd how much I admire your drive and your analytical way of thinking. This fandom is so lucky to have you.

@codename-mango controversial yet brave opinion- your blog is the best LITG blog on tumblr. Your headcanons, your jokes, your route overviews? All immaculate. Even your reblogs are the best of what everyone else is posting. You’re the only reason I have notes, and I appreciate you sm.

@oneflewoverthecuckoos my comment to mango is controversial only because if not her, then your LITG sideblog for sure. For a ‘Lucas’ blog, the diversity of content and LIs you talk about is refreshing. I fucking love seeing people talk about non-LI characters.

@inthenewblood thank you for letting me bitch about the reddit oml it’s needed. Also having someone to be salty with? A new but not unwelcome experience lmfao

@noahssidechick you are literally so sweet oml I treasure our chats and the pictures of your dogs. You bring such a chill and earnest vibe to the fandom and ugh, I’m so glad to have you.

@fuseboxmusebox I feel like you’re so consistent in the fandom, like you were here when I first joined and you’ll be here after I inevitably lose interest and leave. Your reblogs are top notch, the takes are even topper notch, and it wouldn’t be a ‘litg blogs that made me happy’ list without you.

@crvsh-culture I will never not sing your praises. I love your blog, I love you perspective, I love your vibe. I consider you a friend even though we’ve talked like… once.

@radiantdae your artbreeder edits were the first thing in the fandom that left me genuinely astounded. Like holy shit they were so good. Kassam??? That was a REAL MAN. Obviously the stuff you post now is really good too and your blog is excellent. But tbh when I think of the LITG fandom, the first think I think of is your artbreeder pictures. Also your ‘filipino words that make me think of the islanders’. I still think of that often.

@therealityofthematteris seeing you in my notes makes me smile every time. That’s basically all, just needed to say it lmao. Also if anyone has almost convinced me to start playing TWC, it’s you and Seliné.

@bellarxse my dash would be dry af without you. Same with TWC- I’m so tempted to play because of your posts (I have it downloaded on my phone but like…. I haven’t finished a single route in Arcana and starting a new thing is overwhelming). But also your prompts are one of the few things that makes me want to write lmfao.

@lahelakoh I feel like I’ve said it before but your posts SEND me oml. The tiktok references, the chaotic energy. Both the taste and the flavour is immaculate.

@kiwi-tai we haven’t talked that much but oml I love your content so much 15/10

@confused-inalltheways-human you’re literally so cool and I think about that Harry fic all the time. Am I ever gonna get around to writing it? Probably not. But it was such a good idea. Also thank you for lighting up my notification.

@oceanatydes you come here, you post literally spectacular content, and then you peace out like bruh I wish I had your mind. I adore your edits, but my favorites are your posts/headcanons.

@voile-de-lune your aesthetic is everything I aspire to be and your headcanons/edits are such a refreshing take on characters that we’ve all gotten so stale with. I still live for that Rahim moodboard you made. Also your headcanons are so fantastic.

@lasswithumor this fandom desperately needs more Carl stans, thank you for doing the lords work. Also I highkey stalk your blog on a regular basis jsjsjsjsjsjs every chat we’ve had has been lovely and ugh, you’re just lovely

@bobbysapron your vibes are literally so immaculate. I know it’s been awhile since we chatted but I highkey adore your content and ugh. You’re such a cool person.

@beebips I feel like you’ve vanished off my dash, but you made up for it with that 3rd chapter of The Other Side of Seventh Ave made up for it.

@nerdferatum I don’t think I’ve ever breathed a word in your direction but oml you’re so sweet and supportive and every time your posts cross my dash I *pleading emoji*

@mrsgaryrennell I’m still agog that we’re mutuals because like… You are so talented. It took me waaaayyy too long to get into Blue and Hazel but now that I have… It’s highkey better than the actual season skskskskss

@kingkassam Like the above, you are waaaayyy too cool to be following me sksksksk. I’ve still got a few edits you had ideas for in the pipeline, and highkey the Kassam icons you requested are my favorite edits I’ve ever made. I live for someone else playing Matchmaker.

@hermitclaw hello?????? You’re so funny what the FUCK are you doing following me. Ik you don’t post that much anymore, but every LITG you grace us with is a knockout. It feels unreal when you reblog my stuff. Basically the same to @mchamster. Like you’re both so funny and have been in the fandom for so long that it fully feels like royalty whenever yall interact with me.

@ravenadottir I am fully unworthy to even mention your name but oml. Your guides are the only thing that help me retain information about the season, and your recent outfit edits? Oh my god they’re so good. Hope’s especially, with the brightly colored swimsuit, left me absolutely speechless. You’re just above everything in the fandom and I admire that so much. Plus you really don’t have to flex that hard in your fics, and yet-

@smaiihands saving the best for last because you are one of the single most talented people in this fandom. Your art is the strongest life support for the fandom and like I know we haven’t talked in awhile but you’re also such a dope person. So.

And a big shoutout to all the people I follow who I don’t talk to but have nothing but good vibes. I appreciate yall way more than I can articulate: @richhdesire @needsomesorrel @ficticiouspastry @cranesandshipyards @litg-ish @princesslove19060 @fictitiouspastery @icedcoffee-please @demons-dogs-and-puns @sparklydinosaurr @mountainmanxoxo @diamondsdiary @bucket-bill@another-lottie-simp @bobbys-darling @cyn-onlyyou @mikcove @officialpapa-johns @Amaxn @dxncingthroughlife @myfictionalobsessions @screw-u-vaanu @kittidot @chichiguitarist123 @myfictionalobsessions @Azibear @amelia-w @lilithlibrxa @litghoe @priyas-tiddies @daisybarks @ajs-wife

At this point this post is just a directory of the LITG fandom lmfao but genuinely. Thank every single one of you. 2020 was hard as shit, but I’ve been hyperfixated on LITG for like a year and I treasure your content sm.

#im so so so fucking sorry if i forget someone :(#i 100% did not mean to i hope no ones feelings are hurt #if you've ever interacted with my posts youve definitely made me smile

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bee-kathony · 4 years

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Blue Christmas | Jamie & Claire one shot

a/n: Merry Christmas! I wrote this a few weeks ago, so I thought I’d finally post it. Comes in at a whopping 13,154 words so you’ll need to brew a cup of hot chocolate and settle in for this one! Now... this will probably be my last fic for awhile, possibly ever, we’ll see how I feel after everything has settled. I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas! xx and thank you @julesbeauchamp for the moodboard!

December 23rd, 2019

Oxford, England

The wine glass in her hand was becoming dangerously low. Dangerous, because without the warm liquid filling Claire’s belly, she’d remember just exactly why she was drinking alone.

Christmas was a time of celebration and joy. A time for families to come together, laugh and exchange presents. Everyone would gather around the fireplace and tell stories or watch a classic Christmas film.

Claire was celebrating in her own way two days before Christmas. Her divorce had been finalized this morning, which was a good thing, but not exactly something that would lift the spirits.

Her ex-husband, Frank Randall had been a kind man, emphasis on had. They’d been married a short five years, and during that time, Frank hadn’t been faithful — at all. When Claire found out about one woman, it led to another and another… and another. Frank seemed to have a string of women lined up all around the city. It made Claire feel like a fool for trusting him and believing that he truly loved her.

So, with her divorce final, Claire was celebrating Christmas alone for the first time in her life. The first several years of her life she barely remembered, and until she had married Frank, she had spent every Christmas with her aunt and uncle in London.

Uncle Lamb insisted she come and join them this year, but the thought of having to pretend she was okay was mind-numbing. Being around her family would be nice, but seeing all the cheer and jovial faces wasn’t something she could handle.

A quiet meow came from her left, and Claire looked over to see her cat Adso licking his feet. Well, she wasn’t quite alone, at least she had her cat.

“I’m becoming a crazy cat lady at the ripe age of twenty-seven,” Claire said wistfully, petting Adso on the head, making him purr gently. “Just you and me now.”

There wasn’t even a Christmas movie that Claire could watch because they usually all ended with two people falling in love, and love was not something Claire wanted to think about. It killed her to know that Frank was probably screwing some blonde university bimbo right now, while she sat alone in the dark, not a decoration in sight.

Thankfully, she had the next two weeks off to wallow in self-pity. Claire worked at the local library, where she was able to read to her heart’s content. Her best friend Geillis also worked with her, although she didn’t read all that much, which always made Claire laugh. Why take a position at a library if one didn’t like to read?

Gathering enough energy to get off the sofa, Claire set her now empty glass down in search of a new bottle. If she had to spend this Christmas alone, she certainly wouldn’t be spending it sober.

As Claire grabbed a new bottle, she passed by the fridge, which was still littered with the odd bits and pictures of her and Frank’s life. A yellow post-it note caught her attention. It read, “I’ll be out late, eat without me!”

She yanked it off, crumpling it into a small paper ball before tossing it in the trash can. “You bastard,” she said to the post-it and to Frank.

Sooner or later, she would need to get rid of all his things. The process had begun two months ago when she’d found out about his affairs. Claire had gathered up as many clothes of his that she could carry in her two arms and tossed them out the second-story window, much to Frank’s complaints.

Laughing at this memory, Claire grabbed a packet of biscuits before plopping back down on the sofa.

“Another glass for the woman who’s destined to be alone,” Claire said to herself, watching the dark liquid fill her cup.

Just as she picked it up, a loud knock came from the door, making her spill it all over her pajama pants. “Shit!” Claire stood up quickly, checking to see if any had got on her couch, and thankfully (or not so thankfully) it had all landed on her.

Another knock came from the door, “Open up!”

“Geillis?” Claire raced to the door, patting at her pants. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Her friend held up a bottle of wine and a box of pizza. “Solidarity? I wasn’t going to let you spend tonight alone. I canna be wi’ ye on Christmas, so I thought tonight would suffice.”

“Get in here,” Claire grinned, hugging her friend as she passed. “I should make you buy me a new pair of pajama bottoms! Spilled half my glass of wine all over them when you knocked.”

Geillis looked her over, wincing as she saw the dark red stain. “Och, Christ, Claire. I’m verra sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Claire crossed her arms as she leaned on the counter, the smell of the pizza making her mouth water. “But you brought sustenance so all is forgiven!”

“Go make yourself at home, I’ll just go change out of these,” Claire rolled her eyes, laughing as she went to her room. It should’ve been hard to be in the bedroom that Frank and she had shared, but he was barely home towards the end. The reason for that was clear now. They had moved into this house only two years ago after Frank accepted the teaching position at Oxford. Most of the memories Claire had made here, had been on her own.

Returning with a freshly washed pair of fuzzy bottoms, Claire sat down next to Geillis who was already on her second slice.

“So ye really didna decorate for Christmas, huh?”

It was true. The room was dark with the lack of twinkling lights and not a bauble in sight. “I didn’t feel like decorating just for myself. Not this year at least.”

“I get it,” Geillis nodded. “But I wish ye wouldn’t spend the whole holidays wallowing in self-pity. Ye should put on a fancy dress and go get yerself laid,” she winked. “Now, that will lift yer spirits, ye ken?”

“I ken,” Claire smirked. “But I don’t think anyone would want to get with this sorry lump of coal.”

“Excuse me?” Geillis nearly spit out her wine. “If yer a lump of coal, then what am I?!”

“Oh, you’re gold darling, absolute gold,” Claire laughed. “I appreciate the encouragement, but I’d rather not wake up in a strange bed with a strange man.”

“But that’s often the best kind,” Geillis nudged her in the side. “Well, if ye willna go get laid, please dinna stay here in this miserable depressing house. Go see yer uncle or go take a trip somewhere. Ye’ve earned it, Beauchamp.”

That hit her like a gut punch. Beauchamp. Her maiden name. “Guess I’ll have to get used to saying that again. A trip you say?” She sipped her wine. “But it’s two days before Christmas, where on earth could I go that would have availability?”

“Try Scotland, my homeland,” Geillis grinned and ran her finger gently down Adso’s back. “Tis just a quick hop on a plane, gets ye out of England at least.”

“I’ve never been to Scotland,” Claire said. “Do I just find a bed and breakfast in some quaint village?”

“Aye,” Geillis nodded and then whipped out her phone. “Or ye can search for a cute holiday spot in Scotland. Let’s say the highlands somewhere.”

As Claire let Geillis search for a place for her to go, she looked around at her house. While she could wallow, the idea of sitting in the dark wasn’t exactly appealing. She had the next two weeks off, and she might as well try and enjoy herself a bit. After all, she should be celebrating the fact that she’s no longer married to Frank who took every opportunity to cheat on her.

“How long do ye want to stay?” Geillis asked.

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe four days? Five? I’ll have to find somewhere for Adso to stay,” Claire smiled as her cat purred beneath her hand.

“Oh, I’ll watch the wee cheetie,” Geillis mumbled. “So, in the highlands… with availability.”

“Oh and make sure it’s not some romantic getaway destination,” Claire added.

“Lassie,” Geillis laughed. “It’s Scotland. The whole damn country is a romantic destination! But dinna fash, I’ll find ye a good spot.”

“While you do that, I’m going to turn on the fireplace,” Claire said as she stood up. She flicked a switch that turned on the gas and immediate heat came to life. Claire stood in front of the fireplace, trying to get warm.

There was something rather exciting about traveling to a country she’d never been before. Claire fancied herself as a bit of a gypsy — her home was wherever she was. And Scotland was a place she’d always wanted to visit, it seemed like now was as good a time as any.

“Oh, I think I found it,” Geillis stood up from the sofa to show her the phone. “Tis called Fraser’s Ridge. A collection of cabins of all sizes up in the Highlands.”

“Fraser’s Ridge,” Claire repeated and began to flick through the pictures. The cabins looked very cozy and inviting. “They have availability?”

“That’s what their website says,” Geillis said. “Want me to book it? It’ll be my Christmas present to ye… since I may have forgotten to buy ye a gift,” she winced.

“You don’t have to do that, Geillis!”

“I do! Ye need to take time for yerself,” Geillis slid her arm around Claire’s waist, squeezing tight. “Ye’ve had a rough year, and now ye can go up to a cute wee cabin and relax.”

Claire looked through the pictures again, noting how charming they looked. “It says here that each cabin was hand-built by the owner and his father.”

“Oooh, the crafty type,” Geillis winked. “Ye should make sure ye get a good look at the owner then. If he’s good wi’ his hands…” she made a lewd hand motion.

“Geillis Duncan!” Claire laughed, nudging her friend in the ribs. “There will be nothing of the sort. I bet he’s in his 60’s, overweight and balding.”

“Are ye picky then?”

Claire shot her friend a look, then laughed and moved back to the sofa. “Fine, if you want to book it, then go for it. It’ll be better than me and Adso rotting away like Miss Havisham while I sit in my wedding dress.”

“Ye should give that away or somethin’,” Geillis said as she typed Claire’s details into her phone to book the holiday. “I mean, I ken it’s full of memories and such, but surely those have all been tainted.”

“I guess you’re right,” Claire sighed, leaning her head back on the sofa. “I could give it to charity. Or you. Would you like a used wedding dress, Geillis?”

“Not a chance,” Geillis smirked. “Okay, I’ve put yer name as Claire Beauchamp. It’s five days, and you leave tomorrow.”

“Christmas Eve,” Claire ran her hand through her curls. “Guess I’d better pack!”

“Will ye promise me ye’ll bring somethin’ sexy to wear? Just in case the owner turns out to be a mysterious highland hunk?”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Claire chuckled and tossed a pillow at her friend who narrowly dodged it. “For you, I’ll pack it, but it will get no use.”

“We’ll see,” Geillis smirked, forwarding Claire the confirmation email.

++++++

After Geillis went home that night, Claire went into her closet and packed a travel bag full of everything she thought she’d need. The owner said he would have a car come and pick her up at the airport, and then to get some groceries if she needed them. Besides that, she wouldn’t even need to leave the cabin. Cozy sweaters and loungewear were all that she intended to wear, but she did pack a sexy silky pajama set she had yet to wear just so when Geillis asked her about it later, she could say she brought it.

She felt nuts to be boarding a plane on Christmas Eve, but she wasn’t alone. The airport was packed with other holiday travelers flying all over the world. Claire loved to people watch — coming up with stories for people.

There was a little girl Claire had been watching for the last several minutes while she waited for the plane to take off. She sat two rows in front of Claire and kept popping her head over the seat to look back at her.

“Hi,” Claire waved. The little girl ducked back down with a shy smile before popping her head up again. This pattern went on several times before the girl’s mother told her to sit still.

The flight was a short one, but Claire always got motion sickness on flights or in cars and so she took a Dramamine to help ease the nausea she was already feeling. She was also slightly nervous to be going to a place she’d never been on her own. Every vacation in the past had been with Frank, so now she was venturing out, and so far things were going well.

Nearly two hours later, Claire woke up to the sound of the pilot telling them that they would be landing shortly. Her head felt foggy, and she stretched in her seat the best she could.

“Couldn’t have sprung for first-class, Geillis?” Claire chuckled to herself.

She only had a carry-on duffel and a large purse that held her laptop and a few books for the trip.

The email said that one of their employees would be picking her up and would have her name on a sign. So it wasn’t a surprise whenever she walked out of the gate to find a tall bearded man, holding a sign that read, “C. Beauchamp.”

“Hi,” Claire smiled at the man. “Are you from Fraser’s Ridge?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I’m Murtagh FitzGibbons. I take it ye are C. Beauchamp?”

“That’s me. I don’t have to wait for a bag so I’m ready when you are,” Claire said.

The man made a Scottish sound in the back of his throat and then took her duffel. A slight panic crept in as she followed this stranger out to the car. She was a woman traveling alone on one of the busiest holidays. This would be the time that she could be taken advantage of, perhaps taken to some remote place and murdered.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook that murderous thought out of her head and told herself everything would be fine.

“Do ye need to stop at the grocer’s for any food for yer stay?” Murtagh asked as he started the car.

“Um, yes please, if there’s one on the way,” she replied.

“Aye, there is. The Ridge is about an hour away from here, so best get comfortable,” Murtagh smiled at her as he turned on her seat heater. Fraser’s Ridge did have five-star reviews, and so far, she knew why.

Murtagh drove her to the grocery store where she picked up snacks and food she could easily prepare. Wine of course, and a bottle of whisky… two bottles of whisky. The rest of the drive was silent, as Claire took in the beautiful Scottish landscape. The rolling green hills, covered in snow as they drove further north.

By the time they reached Fraser’s Ridge, the sun was beginning to go down, even though it was just the afternoon. The air was crisp and cold, making Claire shiver as she stepped out of the warm embrace of the heated car.

“The owner, Jamie, my godson, is out tonight and tomorrow to be wi’ his sister and her family. But, I’ll help ye check-in and then see ye safe to yer cabin. Jamie will probably stop by to welcome ye properly when he gets back,” Murtagh said as he picked up her bag again.

“You’re his godfather?” Claire asked. “Why aren’t you spending Christmas with them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He grunted, “Och, well, I’m no’ much of a holiday man. And someone had to see to the place over the holidays. Jamie did it last year and I kent he wanted to spend time wi’ his sister, Jenny.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Claire smiled warmly. “I look forward to meeting this Jamie whenever he comes back. This place is absolutely beautiful.”

“Aye, lass,” Murtagh smiled as he walked up a trail towards a small building that must be their offices.

“There’s a wee book that tells ye a bit about the place,” Murtagh said as he wrote her name down. “It also has information about wifi, if that’s somethin’ yer interested in.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a gold key. “Cabin 2,” he handed it to her. “If ye’ll just follow me.”

They walked back outside, and it was beginning to snow lightly. On the way up here, Claire noticed that they really were in a remote part of the highlands. Although, it seemed most of the highlands was remote compared to the busy streets of Oxford or London.

“Are there other people here? Or is it just me being a complete and utter loser on Christmas?” Claire chuckled sadly.

“There are a few other folks,” Murtagh looked back at her. “A few families that like to spend the holidays up here. We have ten cabins in total, and this season only three are vacant.”

“Wow,” Claire was impressed. It was an ideal location, but most people stay at home with their family’s at Christmas time. “Well, it’s really lovely.”

Her cabin was just a short walk from the office, with its own trail that led to the door. Claire could tell that it was built with skill and precision. Everything looked so intentional and yet still had that rustic element that all cabins had. Murtagh walked up to the door, waiting for her to unlock it.

She turned the key, opening the door to a dark room. Murtagh flicked on the switch and Claire gasped.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Murtagh smirked and then set her bag down. “Jamie insisted on decorating every cabin for Christmas. I told him ‘twas a bit much, but,” the man shrugged.

There were lights strung around the room, making it sparkle. A large tree stood in the corner, fully decorated, with cranberry and popcorn and every bauble to go with it. The fireplace had greenery on top, fit with knitted stockings. It wasn’t cheesy or tacky. Claire wasn’t trying to escape Christmas, just her depressing home she had shared with her ex-husband. This… this was perfect.

“Well, I’ll leave ye to it,” Murtagh said. “Our office number is listed in the book as well if ye need anythin’. Enjoy your stay, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Thank you,” Claire smiled as Murtagh shut the door, leaving her on her own. The first order of business was to get the fireplace going, and upon first inspection, it wasn’t a gas one like Claire’s.

There was wood already set up, as well as kindling and a box of matches on top of the mantle. “Here goes nothing,” Claire muttered as she struck the match. At first, nothing happened, but soon the kindling caught the flame and began to fan out to the logs.

“First try,” she clapped her hands together.

There was a small kitchen connected to the living room, stocked with all the appliances one could need. The master bedroom was spacious, with a cozy king-sized bed that Claire was very much looking forward to getting into later. A bathroom connected to the bedroom, with a shower and clawfoot tub.

“The pictures don’t do this place justice,” Claire sighed as she walked back into the living room which was warming up nicely. There was a ladder that led up to a small loft area with plush seating. A cute little reading nook for later.

Claire continued her curious look around as she opened up the back door. There was a fire pit outside, with logs set up around it for seating. She managed to get the inside fire lit but wasn’t counting on her skills with an outdoor pit.

Before she settled onto the comfy looking sofa, Claire took her bag into the room and unpacked it. Then she put her groceries away, grabbing a packet of crisps and a plaid before snuggling in for the night.

The remote was on the coffee table and when she turned it on, The Holiday was playing.

“I can’t turn this off, now can I?” She rolled her eyes but smiled as Jude Law’s character put on his glasses.

After the movie ended, and Claire had eaten her weight in crisps, she groggily made her way to the bedroom. Not bothering with pajamas, she flopped down onto the bed face first and within moments fell fast asleep.

++++++

On Christmas morning, Claire treated herself to a cup of coffee and store bought croissants. There were no presents under the tree to open, and no one would call. Maybe her uncle Lamb, but later once his own children had opened their gifts.

“Another day of movies and crisps,” Claire sighed as she took up the corner spot on the sofa.

Hours passed in that order. One movie would end, and another would begin. She had given up on trying to avoid cheesy Christmas movies, as that seemed to be the only thing playing on virtually every station.

Claire felt herself drifting off to sleep during Elf, but was startled when a loud knock came from the front door. “What the bloody hell,” she yawned and jumped off the sofa. Grabbing the plaid, she wrapped it around her body as she shuffled to the door.

A very tall, very large, red headed man stood on the front porch. He had an axe in one hand, and a bag in the other.

“Um, are you going to murder me?” Claire glanced at the axe.

The man followed her gaze and burst into a laugh. “Oh, Christ! It does look like that. No, God no. I came to see if ye needed any wood cut for the place.”

“Perhaps,” Claire said, eyeing the man. She had to admit that he was very attractive, and his accent had that deep burr of someone who had lived in the highlands all his life, the r’s rolling off his tongue.

“Yer probably wonderin’ who this strange man is on yer front steps,” the man said as he took off his gloves and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie Fraser. Of Fraser’s Ridge.”

“Ah,” Claire smiled and shook his hand. “That makes a lot of sense,” she laughed. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. I just got in last night. Your godfather, Murtagh, was it? He said that you wouldn’t be around today.”

Jamie put his gloves back on his large hands. “Well, I wasna supposed to be, but then my sister Jenny’s daughter Maggie got sick after the festivities and so I was freed. Thought I’d just come back to check on everyone and to wish them a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Claire grinned. “I must say, this place is wonderful. Did you really build every one?”

“Aye,” Jamie’s cheeks blushed. “With my Da before he passed a few years back. We ran this place together. It was a way to show the beauty of Scotland, and remind everyone to take time for themselves. What brought ye here?”

“Oh,” Claire paused, not sure how much of her personal life to disclose to a near stranger. “Just needed a break from my life back in England.”

“I kent ye were a Sassenach,” Jamie smiled warmly.

“Sassenach?”

“English person,” he replied. “More or less.”

There was still snow falling, and Claire began to shiver in the doorway. “Would you like to come in Mr. Fraser? It’s bloody freezing out there!”

“Och,” he shook his head. “I’ll just go and chop the wood for ye and bring it back. I wouldna want to impose on ye.”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” Claire said, and realized that she really wouldn’t mind spending more time with this man. He had a kindness to him, one that instantly drew her to him.

“I willna be long,” Jamie turned to leave. “And call me Jamie please, Sassenach.”

She waited until he had fully gone to shut the door. He would be back.

Racing to her bedroom, she tossed the plaid on the bed and began to root around in the drawers for something more suitable to wear. Of bloody course she had only brought oversized sweaters and lounge wear. “Didn’t think you’d be meeting a handsome Scot, now would you? Didn’t listen to Geillis,” she mumbled.

Pulling out a green sweater, Claire thought it was the most presentable option and replaced it with the old t-shirt she had been wearing. She only felt a little foolish to be primping herself for his return. Licking her fingers, she tried to assemble the bird’s nest called her curly hair into order.

She was not certain how long it would take him to chop down fresh wood. An image of the man Jamie holding the axe in his hands, droplets of sweat on his brow as he struck down with force on the wood filled her mind. Claire let her eyes closed as she pictured how he would grunt with every strike, again and again. He was clearly well built, so his muscles would flex.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook her head, looking back at herself in the mirror. “Would you get a bloody grip?!”

She knew she shouldn’t have changed her appearance for a man. There was nothing that would come of this, so why did she want to look good for him? After Frank, Claire thought it would take her a long time to be open to any kind of relationship, let alone whatever she was imagining with Fraser.

He said he was going to chop down wood for everyone that needed some, so it could take awhile. The sofa called to her, and Claire sat down, grabbing a book off the coffee table. Her ear was tuned to any slight sound outside, waiting for Jamie’s return.

It took several tries for Claire to focus on the pages before her. She must have read the same paragraph nearly ten times, as her mind was picturing running her fingers through Jamie’s red curls.

“My God woman,” Claire muttered, feeling herself growing flushed. “This is not a cheesy Christmas movie. You’re not going to get laid by the owner of the place who kindly brings you wood.”

If Geillis were here, she would tell Claire to be open and take risks. But Claire had exchanged a few words with the man, and while she assumed he didn’t have a wife or family of his own, there was no way of knowing he wasn’t promised to some other woman.

Soon, Claire’s attention was hooked by her book, and as the minutes turned into hours, she had nearly forgotten about Jamie coming back. One look out the window showed her that it was still snowing, nearly a blizzard too. It was also growing dark outside, and she knew enough to know that chopping wood in the dark was a recipe for disaster.

Her curiosity sparked, Claire rose from the sofa and went to find her boots. Her gut told her that she should at least check that he was okay, if she could even find him out there. Once her shoes were tied, Claire grabbed her coat off the hook near the door. The fresh cold air hit her face, making her gasp as it took her breath away.

The steps were icy as she descended slowly. Obviously, she should look in the woods behind the cabin first. What would she do if she couldn’t find him? Go to the offices, demanding to know where he was? She would look insane and probably desperate. However, he did say he would come back and it’d been nearly four hours.

As she turned the corner round the back of the house, a flash of red caught her eye and she made her way carefully over.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

She wouldn’t have to venture out into the icy woods after all. Jamie was lying in the snow, clearly stuck and unconscious. His axe lay nearby as did a pile of wood. He didn’t have any signs of bleeding, so he must have slipped on the ice and passed out.

Claire bent next to his body, her fingers instantly checking for his pulse at his neck. His skin was chilled, but she felt a steady thrum under her fingers, echoing her own. Jamie’s lips were a light shade of blue — he must have been out for hours. And all this time, she sat warm and inside, none the wiser.

“Jamie,” she rubbed her hand over his cheek. He didn’t stir. There was snow covering his body and she began to wipe it off. If he didn’t wake, she wasn’t sure she could lift him into the cabin to warm him up. “Jamie, please wake up!”

Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she then placed them on his cheeks to warm them up. She had no idea what else to do save strip naked and put her body next to his. Things hadn’t gotten to that point she thought sadly.

“Jamie,” she said again loudly. “Mr. Fraser, you’ve got to wake up.”

Finally, she saw a twitch near his lip, and soon his eyes slowly opened, snowflakes falling down his cheeks. “Sassenach?” He said with a dry voice.

“Oh thank God,” Claire sighed, leaning her head briefly on his chest. “You must have slipped on ice and passed out. I think you’ve been out here for hours, and the snow has really picked up.”

“Have I?” He blinked rapidly. “Aye, I can barely feel my fingers so I must have.”

“Do you think you can stand?” Claire asked, “I might be able to help get you inside.”

“Let me try,” his mouth quirked up into a smile. It seems even freezing temperatures couldn’t dampen his spirit. Jamie sat up stiffly, flexing his gloved fingers out in front of him. Rising to her feet, Claire offered him both her hands to pull him up. It took all the strength she had to lift him up. And when she did, he nearly toppled them both over again.

“Okay, let’s try walking,” Claire wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him. They took slow steps and thankfully they were very close to the cabin. The steps took a little bit longer, but with the promise of warmth inside, Jamie managed to make it.

“Och, Christ, I’m freezin’,” Jamie shivered as Claire shut the door behind them.

“Come and sit by the fire,” Claire led him over. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

She walked quickly to her bedroom to grab the plaid she’d tossed there earlier. When she came back to the living room, Jamie was standing in nothing but his trousers. His chest was gleaming, with a tuft of auburn curls, and Claire froze in her tracks as she stared at him.

“Um,” she said, her eyes greedily taking him in.

“I need to get out of these cold wet clothes,” Jamie blushed, bringing color back to his cheeks. “I’m sorry to appear so indecent before ye, but…”

She waved him away and moved closer, holding out the blanket. “No, it’s fine. You’re right, anyways. You can’t be sitting in those clothes.”

Jamie held the blanket in his hands gingerly, staring back at her. “Would ye perhaps look away for a bit just so I can get my trousers off? I swear I willna flash ye or anythin’,” he chuckled.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Claire blurted, wondering if she meant it would be fine if he flashed her. Feeling heat creep up her chest, she turned and walked to the kitchen to heat up a cup of tea for him.

Jamie’s clothes made up a wet pile near the door, and he now sat by the fire, presumably naked.

“I’ll hang these up in the bathroom so they can dry out a bit,” Claire set his cup of steaming tea before him.

She now had a nearly naked Scotsman in her living room, clothed in a plaid with no dry clothes. What had she gotten herself into?

As Claire returned to him, she was pleased to see that his color was already returning, his skin no longer showing a startling sign of blue. “You really scared me out there,” she said as she sat down across from him on the carpeted floor.

“Who knows what would have become of me had ye not found me,” Jamie sipped the tea. “Were ye comin’ to find me or was there another reason ye were out in the blizzard?”

“I was worried,” Claire admitted freely. “It’d been nearly four hours and you hadn’t returned.”

“Tracking the time, eh?” He teased her, clearly loving to watch her squirm. “I’m glad ye did.”

“I suppose I’ll have to go back later and fetch the wood,” Claire pointed back outside. “I don’t want you to go outside until you’re fully warm and your lips are no longer blue!”

“Are they?” He touched them with his fingertips. “Christ, my balls are blue too,” he laughed.

Claire couldn’t help but laugh, and tried her hardest not to let her eyes wander down to that part of his anatomy. She had heard that old joke about how Scotsmen don’t wear anything under their kilts and she wondered…

“What’s yer story, Claire Beauchamp,” Jamie said a moment later, startling her out of her thoughts.

“My story?” Claire grabbed another plaid from the chair nearby, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I’m quite plain really, there isn’t much to say.”

“Och,” Jamie scoffed. “I dinna believe that. A beautiful English woman such as yerself is far from plain, and besides, everyone has got a story.”

“Then what’s your story, Jamie Fraser,” Claire asked, feeling completely at ease.

“Agh, that’s not fair! I asked ye first,” he laughed.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me yours,” she nudged his bare foot with her fuzzy sock clad one.

Jamie eyed her suspiciously, and Claire noticed for the first time how strikingly blue his eyes were. A stark contrast to her own dark amber ones. Everything about his was a stark contrast to her — his flaming red hair to her dull brown, his tanned skin to her pale, and his largeness to her smaller frame.

He set the cup of tea on the coffee table, careful not to let the plaid slip. “Well, ye ken about how I built this place wi’ my Da. I mentioned he passed a few years ago, and my Mam passed a few years before him.”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” Claire said.

“Tis hard sometimes,” he shrugged, giving her a warm smile. “Not always, as most days ye think of them randomly and wi’ a happy memory. Holidays are hard, especially this time of year for me.”

He began to tell her about his life. How he had lived in Scotland all his life, but gone to university in Paris, and earned his degree in business. He had one older sister, Jenny, who was married to his childhood best friend Ian and they had three children. As Jamie talked about his family and his childhood home, Lallybroch, Claire could picture it in her mind. His knack for telling stories was unmatched, and she figured that would be the Scottish-ness of him. Geillis was quite good at telling stories of her own.

“I’m a simple man, who only needs a few things,” Jamie continued. “I remember when we first found this land. I’ve always thought that I needed a mountain to live on, a space to call my own and this is it.”

“You live here on the property then?”

“Aye, just a five-minute drive down the road though,” he nodded, pulling the plaid tight around him. “My Da and I built that first to see if we could even build anythin’,” he laughed.

“But it was somethin’ special once we finally finished it. The first night there was everything I thought and more,” he said dreamily. “There’s somethin’ about building yer own house wi’ yer own two hands. It makes ye appreciate the walls around ye that keep ye warm and safe.”

“It’s amazing what you’ve created here, Jamie,” Claire reached out and placed her hand on his. “I’m sure if your father were here, he’d be proud of all the success.”

“I’d like to think so,” Jamie moved his fingers over hers, squeezing lightly. “Ye said that ye were plain,” he sniffed. “I feel my story is quite plain and boring.”

“It’s not,” Claire shook her head slowly. “It’s yours and that’s what matters.”

He cocked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright, I get it. My story is important too. Although once I tell it to you, you’ll find it’s rather depressing.”

“Well, spit it out, Sassenach,” he rubbed his thumb over her fingers, still clinging on. “Dinna leave me in suspense.”

Claire took a deep breath, deciding that she would be truthful with him — after all, he had told her all about his life, it was the least she could do.

“For starters, I should tell you the real reason I’m here… alone, on Christmas,” Claire began. “I just recently got divorced, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to spend another second in my house that wasn’t decorated and that reminded me of my ex.”

“Who was daft enough to let a lass like ye go?” Jamie smirked, not making her feel pitiful like she usually did when she told people.

“Frank Randall,” Claire groaned. “That’s who. He cheated on me with nearly half the population of Oxford. I was the fool who found out five years into our marriage. I really thought he loved me, and that he was different, but I guess all men are the same deep down.”

Jamie cleared his throat at this, causing her to look up.

“Perhaps not all men,” she corrected. “But the Frank’s of the world are all cut of the same cloth. It’s a relief to not be married to him anymore, but I never thought I would be a divorced woman at the age of twenty-seven.”

“Frank Randall is an idiot,” Jamie said sternly. “He had a wonderful wife, and he clearly didna pay any attention to her. A wife is someone that should be cherished, kissed every day and respected.”

“Are you married?” Claire gulped as she asked. She had seen no ring on his finger, even now as he gripped her hand.

“No, no I havena been so lucky,” he smiled sadly. “But I watched how my parents were. I saw the love between them, the partnership they shared, and I ken that one day I want to have a love like theirs.”

Claire could see that he loved his parents very much, and was sad for him that he had lost them both. “I lost my parents when I was about five,” she said. “I don’t remember what their marriage was like, but my uncle whom I lived with told me they loved each other deeply.”

“There’s hope for ye yet, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “Ye’ll find a man who will treat ye as ye deserve, I ken it.”

With stories exchanged, a hush fell upon the room. Claire’s hand was still held between Jamie’s fingers, and she had no intention of letting go. She looked out the window to see that the snow was still falling, adding to the already high pile of fluff.

“It looks like you may be here for the night,” Claire said and he followed her gaze to the window. “The roads are probably covered with the stuff, and you’re still shivering.”

Jamie’s teeth chattered, proving her right. “You should take the bedroom, you’ll be much warmer in a cozy bed than on the sofa. I don’t want to be held responsible for the owner of Fraser’s Ridge losing all his toes!”

“Nah, Claire,” he shook his head. “I canna take yer room. Ye paid for it, and I wouldna feel right puttin’ ye out. I’ll sleep by the fire if I must.”

“No,” Claire stood up and held out her hand to him. “You were passed out in the snow for hours, Jamie! You’re obviously still cold, and there’s a small fireplace in their too. You would know after all.”

He seemed to be weighing his options. While the sofa was comfortable, it was nothing compared to a pocket of warmth one found in a big bed. Jamie was a large man, and Claire bet that his feet would hang off the sofa.

“If you feel so guilty, then you can comp me the night for putting me out of the room,” Claire smirked, her hand still stretched out for him to take.

With a deep grunt, Jamie took her hand and stood up, keeping the plaid wrapped tightly over his body. Claire wanted to slip her hands inside to touch him but pulled her hand away as soon as he was stable.

“There’s also a hot water bottle under the bathroom sink,” Jamie sniffed. “Would ye mind fixin’ it up for me? It seems I still canna feel the tips of my wee fingers,” he wiggled them in front of her.

“Of course,” Claire grinned. “And I’ll bring you another cup of tea once you’re settled. Who knew I would be tucking a very large scot into bed on Christmas night?!”

“Certainly no’ me,” Jamie chuckled. He turned then to go to the bedroom, leaving Claire alone to fix up a fresh cuppa.

There was no way she could fall asleep tonight knowing that he was sleeping in her bed. As she waited for the water to boil, her thoughts turned to his long limbs under the sheets — his freckled arms reaching out to pull her close while she curled into his chest. Claire had never particularly been one for physical touch, but even now, her fingers missed his touch, and it was as if her body was longing to be next to his.

Claire went into the bedroom quietly, seeing that Jamie was already in bed, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She found the hot water bottle exactly where he said it’d be, and returned to the kitchen to fill it with the hot water. With that in hand, as well as the cup of tea, she went to him.

“Delivery from Santa’s elf,” Claire whispered, and his eyes popped open, a grin on his lips. “This ought to warm you up.”

Jamie took the tea from her, his hands curling around the cup. The covers were tucked under the bed and Claire pulled them up to tuck the hot water bottle at his feet, making sure it didn’t burn him. She had to admit that it looked awfully cozy in there, and she wanted to hop in next to him.

“Ye ken tis no’ that late,” Jamie said as he sipped. “There’s a TV in here as well, we could put on a Christmas movie?”

“You mean… get into the bed with you?”

He blinked, owl-like up at her. “Aye, yer no’ goin’ to sit on the floor while I have the whole bed to myself, Sassenach,” he gave a loud pat to the spot next to him. “We’re hardly strangers, since ye saved my life, ye ken.”

She probably should have hesitated far longer than she did, but with a shrug, Claire walked around to the other side and climbed in, still quite far away from him as it was a rather large bed. The remote was on her side, and she pressed the power button, bringing It’s a Wonderful Life to the screen.

“Och, this is one of my favorites,” Jamie grinned and wiggled deeper under the covers. Claire laughed at that, and he glanced over at her with a matching smirk. “I love the old black and white ones, don’t ye?”

“Oh yes,” Claire sighed happily, and pulled up the covers. “There’s something so nostalgic about them.”

Geillis would be happy to know that Claire did, in fact, have a man in her bed. It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but Geillis didn’t need to know all the details.

The two of them laughed at the funny parts, and were silent as George Bailey went along with Clarence the angel. The heat from the fireplace was comforting, and the bed was soft beneath her tired body. Claire’s eyes were fluttering shut, and while her brain knew she shouldn’t fall asleep next to him, the rest of her body didn’t seem to respond. Sleep washed over her, and she heard the distant ringing of bells as she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke a little while later, she was surprised to find it was still dark outside. She must have drifted off for only a few hours. Claire was also surprised to feel a heavy weight — Jamie’s arm — wrapped around her stomach. As Claire’s senses came back to her, she realized that her body was curved with his, and his face was nuzzled into her neck.

There was no way she could get out of his embrace without waking him, and she knew he needed to sleep. No wonder she’d woken up, his body was radiating heat now and she was now covered in a thin layer of sweat. His breathing was deep and heavy, his arm tight around her, so she went limp and tried to relax herself into going back to sleep.

But her senses were on high alert now. Her imagination running wild as she felt with her mind his body against hers. With her knees bent, he had his legs pressed against hers. They were spooning. She was the little spoon of course. It was such an intimate position to be in with someone she’d only just met that day. Although, Claire had never slept like this with Frank. He was always on the other side of the bed, with only a kiss on the cheek before he fell fast asleep.

Perhaps, Claire had been craving someone’s touch all her life, and had never found it. Jamie lightly snored and the vibration ran throughout her body. Shifting to get more comfortable, Claire froze and gasped.

Her bottom was pressed snugly against his crotch, and there was no mistaking the hardness she now felt. Claire couldn’t suppress the laughter nor the arousal she felt. Any warm-blooded male would surely get turned on with a woman’s arse wedged between his thighs.

If it was anyone but Jamie, she would have been disgusted and jumped out of the bed. But she felt safe here in his arms, and the idea that she could turn him on even while he slept was erotic.

With that part of his anatomy reminding her just what she wanted to do to him, she gave up on sleep, and simply enjoyed being in his arms, as this would most likely not be a repeat occurrence.

“Sassenach,” he mumbled sleepily, startling her. Her body was now tight as a bowstring, waiting for him to realize what position they were in.

“Oh,” his arm around her stomach slipped away, allowing her to turn and face him.

“You know what they say about body heat,” she grinned, her face barely visible in the dim glow of the dying fire. “It’s the best way to get warm. Don’t worry about it, Jamie.”

“I dinna want ye to think I was takin’ advantage of ye,” he rubbed his hand over his eyes to better see her. “I must have drifted over to ye in my sleep w’out knowin’ it.”

“Jamie,” Claire laughed softly. “We’re still on your side of the bed. If anyone drifted, it was me.”

“I do feel much warmer now,” Jamie observed as he stretched his legs. “I can go out to the sofa now so ye can sleep.”

He made to move, flipping the covers back, and without thinking, Claire grabbed his arm to pull him back.

“I want you to stay,” she whispered, as her heart hammered in her chest.

Answering her plea, Jamie fell back into the bed and turned on his side to face her. He moved his hand to settle on her waist, waiting to see if it was okay. With a slight nod from her, Jamie pulled her closer until she fit against his chest. She looked up at him, meeting his blue eyes only inches from hers. There was no going back now.

“I dinna have any mistletoe,” Jamie said softly, his arms cradling her body.

“What?” Claire laughed, not expecting him to say that.

“Mistletoe,” he said again. “The wee green stuff ye hang over yer head at Christmas so ye can kiss someone.”

Claire buried her head against his chest, laughing. “I think we can manage without the mistletoe, don’t you think?”

“Aye,” one hand came to brush back the curls from her face. Their bodies were pressed so close that kissing didn’t even seem like an intimate idea.

They found each other in the dark. Jamie cupped her cheek reverently as he pressed his lips to hers. His jaw and neck were covered with scruff that itched pleasantly against her skin, and Claire wanted to purr like a kitten as he kissed her deeper.

Guiding her hands into his curly locks, she held on tight as she parted his lips with her tongue. The heat seeped from his body to hers, but a shiver went over her body as his hand snaked down to grip her arse, squeezing lightly.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, pressing her hips against his.

Claire was not entirely certain this wasn’t just a dream, and that she would wake up alone in bed. But for the moment, Jamie felt very real and his flesh under her hands seemed to yield to her touch.

They broke apart, only so that they could push the covers out of the way before coming back together. Jamie pulled Claire on top of him, his hands finding her hips and anchoring her against him. Sadly, she found out that he had not been naked the entire evening as her fingers skimmed the edge of his boxer briefs.

Her hips moved seductively, rolling against his groin. He was hard again, and with every snap of her hips a small sound left Jamie’s throat. His hands moved from her hips to her arse to push her closer. The kiss was so deep that she could hardly breathe.

“God, Sassenach,” Jamie sighed. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in all my life!”

Claire peppered kisses over his neck and chest, not wanting to part with the low lusty sounds he was making.

“Jesus, lass,” he muttered between breaths as he realized what she was doing. Claire shimmied down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. “Ye dinna have to…”

Looking up at him through long thick lashes, she smirked. “I appreciate the choice, but I’m willing, that is if you are?”

He cocked a brow at her, almost as a challenge. “As long as I can return the favor,” he said smugly.

Heat flashed over her body as he stared at her. She had to tear her gaze away from him to settle to the task before her. His body was sculpted to perfection. She ran her fingers over the grooves of his abs, swirling around the wiry hairs at his belly button. His breath hitched as her hands rested on the tops of his boxers.

Claire held his gaze as she pulled them slowly down his legs. His cock sprang free as the material was removed. Her belly quivered at the sight of his impressive thick length jutting upwards towards his stomach. Reflexively, Jamie’s legs widened and she slid down further to fit herself between them.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said with a hoarse voice. “I dinna feel that ‘tis fair that I’m the one naked and yer still covered up.”

“Oh,” Claire glanced down at herself. “I didn’t even realize.” She reached for the hem of her sweater, but two hands stopped her. Jamie pulled her to straddle him again. Now his hands crept up her sweater, his skin warm on her flesh. His fingers tickled her stomach before finally pulling up the material and tossing it over the side. She saw his tongue snake out and wet his lips as he looked at her breasts, covered only now by her black bra. With his skilled fingers, he unhooked it in seconds, tossing it to join the pile of growing clothes.

“May I?” His hands drummed a tattoo against her hips as he held her body over his.

“Yes, please,” Claire blushed and threaded one hand through his hair, following his movements as he leaned down and took one of her pink nipples into his mouth. His pull was insistent, and he began to suck, his cheeks hollowing. Claire’s head fell back as he pressed her against his mouth, sucking harder. A deep cry left her throat as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive nub.

“Aye, that’s it, Sassenach,” Jamie kissed the underside of her breast. “Make those wee noises for me!”

His mouth moved to the other breast, repeating the same process. His tongue was warm and he swirled the tip around her nipple, and they puffed up, now engorged and swollen from his lips. Before she could move back down his body, Jamie’s hands found her tights and began to pull them off as well as her panties.

“I wish I could see ye in the light,” Jamie said quietly as she pulled the material off her foot, letting it fall to the floor.

“No you don’t,” Claire snorted unflatteringly. “This is enough light so you don’t see all my bumps and squiggles.”

“Bumps and squiggles,” Jamie laughed adorably and pressed his lips against her stomach. “Claire, yer so beautiful. I feel I dinna deserve to be here wi’ ye, holdin’ ye in my arms.”

“You’re one to talk,” Claire ran her finger lightly down the slope of his straight nose. “It’s like making love to a god.”

“Tcha!” Jamie rubbed his hands slowly up and down her sides. She began to rock her hips against him, feeling his length grow between her thighs.

“I’ve never felt like this, Jamie,” Claire admitted. “With anyone.”

He picked up her hand and entwined their fingers, bringing their joint hands to rest over his heart. “Neither have I, Sassenach. I think ye are my Christmas wish come true.”

At that, she shyly buried her head against his neck, her body still gently rocking against his, the friction building. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as his arms settled on her hips. Claire gasped as the tip of his cock brushed against her clit.

She felt his hand move between their bodies as he took hold of himself. Jamie pumped his cock once before sliding it along her wet center. Claire shivered, biting down gently on the padded flesh of his shoulder. He was teasing her entrance with his cock, and just the tip entered her and she clutched his hair tightly.

Her body was shaking with the need to sink down on him, and she pulled back to look into his eyes. One hand came to rest on her lower back, his other still between their bodies. From just the tip, she knew that he was huge, and would fill her completely. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, and she couldn’t help but roll her hips, hearing the sound of the wetness their bodies made.

“I must take ye, Claire,” Jamie said as his grip tightened on her. “I must or I’ll die!”

Claire felt the same, as her heart pounded fast and hard in her chest. She wanted to explode, and as she sank down on his cock, she thought she just might. Their moans mingled together in the air as he filled her.

“Christ,” he whispered. The hand that had been holding his cock found her hand and he gripped it tightly as she began to rock her hips. Claire had never felt so close to someone, not just physically but emotionally. No one had ever looked her in the eyes as they bared their soul with her. There was nothing left unsaid as they gave over to one another.

Claire kept up the slow and steady rhythm of her hips, and overcome with emotions, she pressed her face into his neck, feeling tears spring to her eyes. Jamie held her close, his other hand rubbing slowly up and down her back. He thrust upwards, hitting a spot so deep inside of her, that Claire didn’t know such pleasure existed.

“Oh God,” she panted.

“Oh Claire,” Jamie breathed heavily.

She was close, and she began to grind down faster and harder, feeling his body begin to tremble. Quickly, she pulled back so that she could watch him fall apart. His length throbbed inside of her, and his mouth opened and closed, as the words failed to come out.

With a sharp snap of her hips, Claire felt her own orgasm coming, as she clenched around his cock. Jamie’s hands squeezed her hips, helping her ride him. His eyes flicked back and forth from her bouncing breasts to her face as she came.

Jamie cried out, “Claire!” before spilling inside of her, his body spasming. Tingles shot down her spine, and she held onto him for dear life. Carefully, Claire adjusted her position so she could wrap her legs around his waist and she clung to him, almost like a monkey.

His hands were soothing on her back, lightly stroking. He stayed rooted inside of her, reluctant to leave her body.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Claire said softly against his chest.

“I didna either,” Jamie echoed. “Perhaps it depends on who yer wi’.”

Claire chuckled, but sighed happily at this. Whatever it was between them… it wasn’t usual.

After time passed and they both were sated, Jamie shifted and then moved Claire to lay in his arms, her head comfortably against his chest as she looked up at him.

“When I first met ye, all those hours ago,” he snorted. “I felt a… a sort of draw to ye, Sassenach. Like I just had to be close to ye. To hear yer voice, touch yer skin. I thought I’d do anythin’ to be near to ye.”

“Really?” Claire ran her fingers lightly over his stubbled chin.

“Aye,” he smiled. “Twas the strangest thing. While I was out chopping the wood, I found myself thinking about ye, and I’d known ye all of five minutes!”

“I felt the same,” Claire smiled, pleased that she hadn’t been crazy. “I was waiting for you to come back with the wood. I even changed my clothes,” she laughed quietly. “When you didn’t come back, I grew impatient and that’s when I decided to look for you. I just knew I had to see you again.”

“I dinna wish my niece any ill tidings,” Jamie stroked her cheek. “But I’m verra glad that she got sick after lunch and I came back here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here wi’ ye in my arms. Ye see, Claire, and this may sound hasty, but I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning her face to him. He reached down and cupped her cheek, fingers light on her temple.

"And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.”

Claire closed her eyes as he kissed her, feeling like something opened up inside of her at his words.

“I certainly didn’t expect this,” she said. “I thought I would never be able to recover after my divorce. That my heart was used and not able to be loved again. But, with you, Jamie… I feel things I’ve never felt. A closeness to you, as if I could tell you anything and nothing would surprise or scare you.”

He pressed their lips together once again. “I feel as if our souls have belonged to each other far longer than our bodies have.”

“I don’t think I can part from you, Jamie,” Claire said sleepily, yawning.

“Shhh,” Jamie kissed her forehead and slid further into bed, pulling the covers around her. “Sleep, a nighean donn. When ye wake, I’ll be here.”

“Mmmm,” Claire nuzzled against him, and fell asleep to him muttering something in a language she recognized as Gaelic.

++++++

When Claire opened her eyes, she did wake in his arms. The sun filled the room, and she wasn’t shocked to see that the snow still fell outside. The fire had gone out long ago, but Jamie’s body heat kept her warm. In her sleep, she had shifted to lie curled against his body, and she placed a soft kiss to his neck, rousing him.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she kissed his jaw.

“Yer insatiable,” Jamie groaned, all while keeping his eyes shut. His hands were locked around her back, and they slid down to rest over her arse.

“The same could be said about you,” she poked him playfully in the chest.

Before the morning could unfold like the previous night, however, a loud gurgle came from Claire’s stomach, making Jamie’s eyes pop open.

“I guess all that activity made me hungry,” she nipped at his bottom lip.

Jamie laughed and then rolled her body on top of his. “First we shall eat, and then I plan to devour ye,” he nibbled on her ear lobe, making her squirm.

Another loud gurgle sounded in the room and this time from Jamie.

A cold breeze drifted across her naked body as Jamie pushed off the covers. She rolled off his body and stood up, grabbing the plaid to wrap around her. Jamie opted for his boxers, tugging them on as he yawned.

They ventured out into the kitchen, sitting on two stools. Claire placed a bowl in front of Jamie and poured cereal into it.

“Tell me when to stop,” Claire said as she poured the milk.

“That’s good,” he smiled. “Breakfast of champions.”

“If I knew I would have company, I’d have bought proper breakfast,” Claire said as she sat down at the counter next to him.

“I dinna think this will be our last breakfast together,” Jamie’s foot nudged hers, making her grin sheepishly.

“No, I dare say it won’t.”

They ate quickly, impatient to return to each other’s arms. Food was necessary to continue making love, but Claire was shoveling the cereal down her throat as fast as she could, with only one strange look from Jamie.

“Dinna choke, Sassenach,” Jamie laughed as Claire wiped the milk from her lips. “I canna make love to ye if yer dead.”

“Sorry,” she blushed.

Jamie pushed his bowl aside, and grabbed her hand. “Dinna apologize, ’tis charming for some reason. But now that yer belly is full, I can have my way wi’ ye!”

He stood up, spinning her on the stool until she faced him. Jamie’s arms wrapped around her stomach and he lifted her into the air, plaid and all. She landed over his shoulder, and her bum was given a nice firm pat, making her giggle.

“You better not drop me, Fraser!”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, bouncing his knees as if he was dropping her. Claire shrieked, but laughed, letting her arms dangle over his back. She slid her hands over his arse, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Enough of that,” he smirked, walking into the bathroom where he set her on her feet. His hands reached for the plaid around her shoulders and pushed it off of her. Claire returned the favor by removing his boxers, enjoying the sight of his erect cock on her way back up to kiss him.

“Just what are we doing in here?” She hooked both arms around his neck.

“I’ve fed ye,” Jamie kissed her nose, “and now I need to wash ye.”

“Do I stink?” Claire blushed, self conscious as she put her arms down.

“No,” he shook his head. “But ever since I set eyes on that curly wig of yers, I’ve wanted to get my hands into it. If that doesna sound too weird,” he bit his bottom lip.

“Oh,” she said. The shower was certainly big enough for the two of them, and she moved out of his grasp to turn on the hot water, watching as the room began to steam up.

Claire grabbed his fingers, pulling him into the shower after her. They stood under the water, letting it drench them. Once her hair was wet, Jamie grabbed the shampoo and drizzled a fair amount into the palms of his hands, lathering until suds formed.

Spinning until she faced the shower wall, Claire sighed as his hands massaged her scalp. He had large strong fingers — fingers that had explored her body the night before. Fingers that made Claire moan as she imagined them inside of her.

“Feel good?”

“Hmmm?”

Jamie laughed, still rubbing the shampoo into her hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Feeling like she was floating, Claire allowed Jamie to move her under the water to rinse out the shampoo. He then pushed her back against the wall, his mouth landing on her neck. The water poured down his back, cascading down his skin.

Claire’s eyes sprang open from her dreamy state as she felt his lips nibble on her breast briefly before moving south.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire muttered as she looked down to find Jamie on his knees looking up at her. His hands settled on her waist, making sure that she didn’t fall down on top of him.

“I told ye I would devour ye, Sassenach,” he growled before licking slowly up her center. Claire’s legs buckled, but his hands squeezed her hips. The tip of his tongue flicked out against her clit before two of his fingers spread her lips. His tongue darted inside of her, and Claire’s head fell back against the wall.

Her hands found his head, holding on tight to his hair as he began to bop his head. Like a kitten lapping at milk, Jamie began to lick and suck her folds.

“Oh God,” Claire sighed. Jamie lifted her right leg to rest over her shoulder and he adjusted the angle, now able to insert a finger inside of her. Her thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Jamie chuckled against her skin, sending shivers over her body.

Glancing down, she could see that his cock was hard and throbbing. His other hand left her waist to take hold of himself, the thumb moving slowly up and down his cock. Watching his head move between her thighs as well as his hand pump himself made Claire’s orgasm come quickly, her body trembling under the water.

Jamie lapped up her juices, his mouth greedy for her taste. Peppering her thighs with kisses, he stood up, watching as she swayed slowly, her body still given over to pleasure.

“I could do that all day,” Jamie kissed her gently and she tasted herself on his lips.

“And I want you to,” Claire kissed him harder. “But not before I return the favor.”

Before he could say anything, she was already sliding down onto her knees. His cock was still hard, resting against his stomach. Finally able to see all of him in the light, Claire gasped. He was bloody huge and she was impressed that he managed to fit inside her so snugly the night before.

“Like what ye see, then?” He was watching her, grinning at her fascination with his member.

“I’m just trying to work out if you really are a god,” Claire said and kissed the tip of his cock, watching his thighs clench.

“Jesus,” Jamie grunted, placing one hand against the wall to steady himself. “Ye sure ken how to flatter a man.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Claire smirked, running one finger down his cock. Her thumb rubbed slowly over the head, pulling back the foreskin. Moisture dripped down and she moved her lips around the tip, tasting him.

Jamie’s buttocks clenched, and moans left his lips as Claire took more of him in. Her fingers were skating lightly down the backs of his thighs. She enjoyed the shivers that ran down his body at her touch. With one hand she cupped his heavy balls, squeezing them firmly as her other hand pumped his cock.

Her tongue snaked out, flicking quickly over the head. Jamie’s eyes were shut, but they opened, dark blue and he watched her take him in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, and as he hit the back of her throat, she gagged, but was too eager to please him to stop. Claire bopped her head, moaning as his hand found her hair, not pushing or forcing her, but just moving with her motions.

She felt his balls draw up close to his body, and looked up, seeing how he was breathing quickly. Claire pulled him out of her mouth, now only sucking on the tip of his cock. His head bent down to watch her again, and as she flattened her tongue against his shaft, he came in long hard spasms. She milked him, her eyes focused on his face as he spilled into her hand and she licked the head clean.

Claire stood up, her body gliding along his. She placed her hands under the water, washing his seed off.

“I could do that all day,” she smirked, returning his sentiment from moments before.

“I guess if ye bed a vixen,” Jamie leaned his forehead against hers. “Ye have to expect to get bit.”

Claire laughed as he kissed her. They finished showering with wandering hands. They simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

Not bothering with clothes, Jamie and Claire dried off and stumbled towards the living room. Claire laid down near the fireplace as Jamie lit it. The twinkling lights shined above them. Jamie rolled against her as he laid next to her.

“How much longer is yer stay?” He asked, sighing contentedly against her neck, his breath warm.

“Three days,” Claire said, her fingers brushing through his curls at the nape of his neck.

“Hmm, three days. Would ye really leave before New Year’s Eve?” Jamie smirked.

“Only if I had a good reason not to leave,” Claire looked at him.

“Do ye?”

Did she? Jamie was certainly not someone she expected to fall for, but she had. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they met, but already her heart belonged to him. This Christmas would be one she would remember forever, always thinking back to the day she met the love of her life.

“Yes,” she kissed him. “I do. Is that a date?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “I can show ye what a proper Hogmanay is like, Sassenach!”

“I thought this would be a blue Christmas, but the only thing that was blue was your frostbitten skin,” Claire laughed.

“And my balls,” he added, laughing.

“And those,” Claire snickered. “I’m glad you fell down in the snow.”

“So am I,” Jamie rolled his body on top of hers. “What were those lyrics again… I’ll have a blue Christmas without you. I’ll be so blue just thinkin’ about you…”

There on Fraser’s Ridge, two strangers met, and fell in love on Christmas Day. They laughed as they never had before, loved with a passion they didn’t know existed, and had a very very merry Christmas.

Five days later, after spending day and night in each other’s arms and getting to know everything there was to know about the other, Claire packed up her things and said goodbye to Fraser’s Ridge.

She wasn’t headed home just yet, however, as Jamie was eager to take her to his childhood home, Lallybroch, for a Hogmanay celebration.

“Is your sister going to be very shocked at my being there?” Claire asked as they drove. She’d called Geillis a couple of days ago to ask if she could keep watching Ados. Of course, Geillis had given her hundred questions to answer, but Claire told her she’d give her all the juicy details when she got back to Oxford in a few days.

“Probably,” Jamie chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Claire’s thigh. “I havena brought a lass home, so she’ll want to interrogate me. The good thing,” he smiled over at her, “is that we’ll be arriving shortly before the rest of the guests do, so she willna have time to do that!”

“Ahhh,” Claire laughed. “All part of your master plan, I see. So that’s why we didn’t arrive there yesterday or the day before.”

Jamie squeezed her leg. “Tis no’ that I dinna want her to meet ye, but I still want to keep ye all to myself. Plus, I dinna want to subject ye to a million questions that she’ll ask ye. There’s no need to rush this.”

“My lad,” Claire sighed happily. “I think it’s a bit late for that.”

Jamie smiled in agreement, and they drove on. Lallybroch wasn’t too far away, and within the hour, they were pulling up to the large stone estate. Jamie was right, as there were other cars pulling up at the same time as them.

“This place is not at all what I imagined,” Claire said in awe as Jamie turned off the car.

“Tis quite charming,” Jamie smiled. “Lallybroch means lazy tower, ye ken? I suppose it does lean a bit.”

Claire tilted her head to the side, admiring the house. She left her bag in his car, they would come out later to get that to stay the night in Jamie’s old room. Sliding his fingers through hers, Jamie pulled her close and together they walked up to the house.

People were milling about inside, and the atmosphere was electric with the air of celebration. The room smelled of meats and pies and Claire’s stomach growled with the need to be filled.

“Jamie!” Came a loud voice from their left. A short, raven haired woman came running towards them and Jamie let go of Claire’s hand to embrace her. “Ye finally made it ye numptie.”

“Aye, sorry we’re late,” Jamie said, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek.

“We?” Jenny craned her neck to look behind Jamie at Claire. Her eyes went wide, and her brows shot up to her forehead. “Hello, there.”

“Janet,” Jamie eyed his sister as he wrapped an arm protectively around Claire’s waist. “This is Claire Beauchamp.”

Claire noted how he didn’t explain where or when they’d met, and she though it best to keep it that way for now. She offered Jenny her hand, and waited awkwardly before his sister wrapped her arms lovingly around Claire.

“I’ll yell at ye later for no’ tellin’ me ye were bringin’ a lass,” Jenny said to Jamie as she hugged Claire. “But I’m happy that ye did. ’Tis nice to meet ye Claire. Sadly I dinna have much time to talk wi’ ye, but we’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Ye are stayin’ the night?” She directed this question at Jamie who nodded.

“Good,” Jenny squeezed Claire’s hand. “Ian is around here somewhere with the bairns. He’ll love to see ye.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie took Claire’s hand again, pulling her out of Jenny’s grasp. Jenny smirked at her brother before leaving them alone, off to fulfill her hostess duties.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Jamie sighed. “Ye must give a good first impression, Sassenach.”

“I’ve never been told I give a bad one,” Claire tapped his nose. “Now that that is out of the way, can we please get something to eat?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “And to drink!”

They found the table of food easily, and filled their plates high with mountains of savories and sweets. While Claire carried their bounty, Jamie grabbed two full glasses of cider and they made their way outside into the chilly air to get away from the noise.

The sound of laughter and music could still be heard outside as they sat down on a wooden bench.

“This is lovely, Jamie,” Claire took a bite of a mince pie. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“I’m glad ye are enjoyin’ it,” Jamie grinned over his cup. “It’ll get rowdy as the night wages on. Swords dances and the like.”

“Sword dances?” Claire questioned.

“Aye,” gulped. “Ye place two swords crossed over the other, and ye dance atop them. Highlanders used to do these types of dances for celebration or before a battle to predict the outcome. It’s a tradition now.”

“Will you be partaking in these sword dances?”

Jamie’s cheeks turned bright red. “I do every year,” he took a bite of haggis. “But this year I’ll have ye to cheer me on.”

They kept eating until their stomachs were full, and while Claire wanted more of the delicious food, she felt ready to pop.

The music was drawing them back inside, but Claire took Jamie’s hand, rubbing her fingers lightly over his, not wanting to leave their peaceful cocoon.

“I didn’t expect to feel this way about someone I met only a week ago,” Claire said softly. “I came to Scotland to get away from my old life, and to make myself forget the pain.”

Jamie was silent, but his eyes were focused on her as she spoke.

“I came to escape my old life, but I found something new,” Claire grinned. “Something worth holding onto.”

One of his large hands came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing off a bit of snow on her skin. “Something worth holdin’ onto,” he repeated. “Yer worth getting frostbite for, Sassenach. Yer worth shiverin’ until I canna feel anythin’.”

Claire smiled, “I know that you live here, and I live back in England, but I hope this won’t be the end.”

“Nah,” he leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. “’Tis no’ the end, Claire. I reckon… it’s just the beginning.”

Snow began to fall harder, forcing them to move inside. They danced hand in hand, sang loudly and rang in the new year with a kiss, sealing their fate forever.

#blue christmas #without youuuuuu #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire fraser #fraser's ridge #one shot #christmas

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afterglowparker · 5 years

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fanfic writer appreciation day

i love this day, because while i believe it is important to appreciate fanfic authors everyday, i do think it is nice to dedicate a day to doing so. fanfic writers (those of us who have been here for years, those of us who just started, those of us who write full-length novels, and those of us who dabble in blurbs--litearlly every single person) work very hard on their craft and i want to take the time to show some love to some of my favorite authors! i haven’t had much time to read, but here is a short list of writers who i have loved for awhile, always return too, and have had the pleasure of enjoying their work. thank you for inspiring me and giving me a way to escape from the hectic nature of life and the stress of adult responsibilities. i highly recommend giving everyone on this list a follow if you haven’t yet—you won’t regret it. 💓

the writers below are a mix of tom holland and peter parker writers (and co.)!

@hey-marlie there are simply not enough words in the english language that could express my love for miss marlie b. as a writer, marlie has done something so incredibly astounding, phenomenal, and spectacular. every piece of work she puts out moves me (i laugh, i cry, i scream in frustration and i bite my nails in anticipation) and pushes me to want to work on my own craft. i’ve been with her since far from you (home) was just about 2/3 of the way through and have fallen more in love with the world she has been creating since. i cannot chose just one piece to recommend, because they have all taken my breath away, so here is her entire spider-man masterlist. (though spidey code sleepover, homage to heartbreak and london pt.3 are on my permanent re-read list.)

@pparkerwrites j! i don’t think there’s many more things i could say about her that i haven’t already. she’s as kind as she is talented, which is a pretty staggeringly high amount. one of the first marvel writers i ever found and fell in love with, i have only become more enamored by her work. my favorites include sunburn, revelations and her mini-series ex-friends (here is pt. 1!) || masterlist

@starksparker kaylee. where do i begin? kaylee is the writer who pushed me to begin writing again. she is the writer who never fails to inspire me and constantly puts out work (and i mean full length novels—take a moment to bow down to this wonder of a woman!) that makes me have to stop and catch my breath, because the emotional roller-coaster i was put on was so exhilarating. forever and dare you to move are two of my favorite series from her! || masterlist

@madmadmilk i’ve expressed my love for j before, but let’s do this one more time (cue into the spider-verse type introduction scene). i can’t remember how i found her blog, but i’m insanely happy that i did. i’ve been following her for quite some time and it has been nothing short of a good time. her stories have a way of taking you away and making you feel a multitude of emotions all at once. she makes you laugh, she makes you cry, and she makes you thirst. my favorites include ground rules and contrapposto (seriously, i cannot tell you how many times i have re-read both of these series...and they still take my breath away each time). || masterlist

@ispiderdudei laney knows how big of a fan and supporter i am of her’s, but i want to let you all know once more! some time ago, i stumbled across her series only and fell head-over-heels in love with it, and in turn, her!! it’s a dad!tom fic and if that’s your jam, i cannot recommend the series enough. it’s a fic that i continuously look forward too and don’t get tired of reading. || masterlist

@keepingupwiththeparkers katie! wow oh wow! i’ve only been following her for a short amount of time, but i’ve loved getting to know her and her work more as time goes on! i’m currently working through her series sweetner and i’m truly at a loss for words when it comes to how i feel about it. it’s so sweet (hmm no pun intended, tho it does seem fitting) and makes me crave my own uni!barista!tom! the series truly has it all and i promise you will love it if you read it; i don’t get tired of reading it. and it really is the kind of love i am searching for in uni. and i love her for that! || masterlist

@angelic-holland alice! where do i begin? i think i found her work shortly before leaving for a flight across seas and i remember being upset i wouldn’t have any internet so that i could continue binge reading her work!! i even tried to open as many tabs with stories that peaked my intrigue as i could so i would at least have a few stories to read--safe to say i was entertained and felt many emotions on that flight. you can pick any piece of her work and it will take your breath away (and probably make you thirst), but i do have to recommend her series drive north, as it is one i always return to! || masterlist

@lousimusician i actually found this author from other people recommending them in some of my mutual’s inboxes and i’m insanely glad they did! they have a lot of great work, but my favorite is their series i want you back! it has made me laugh, but mostly cry, as it has ripped my heart straight out of my chest and stomped on it—but in the best way possible. do yourself a favor, and give it a read! || masterlist

@mcuspidey lixi! my love! you know how big of a fan of yours i am, but imma gush about you some more! lixi has a hold on my heart and i am completely okay with that; she is as great a friend as she is a writer. reading her work is always such a joy, as it doesn’t just past the time for me, but it actually makes me feel. i feel my eyes water, i feel my heart clench during angsty parts, and i feel my cheeks hurt from smiling so wide though all the fluff. because i’m a sucker for my boy peter parker, one of my favorites is her piece i like you! (she also makes such pretty moodboards and masterlists—in fact, she made my masterlist and i am so in love with it!) || masterlist

@stuckonspidey lilly—how i love you so. i can’t remember how i found your blog or what piece i first read, all i know for sure is that first night i stumbled across your blog, i binge read everything you had posted. i started reading i only feel you when there was only about four parts posted! to see how far you come is a joy and to get to know you more as person is a gift. lilly has a way of transporting you into her stories and one of my absolute favorites is her series we all wear masks! if you have a moment, i highly recommend sitting down and checking out her work. || masterlist

this hellsite has so many wonderful authors, many of whom i haven’t even discovered yet, so just know that even if you aren’t on this list, i appreciate the hell out of you. keep doing what you’re doing, because you’re so wonderful! 💓

pt. 2 pt. 3

#this is in no way shape or form contains all the authors i love #i'm just very tired and want to express my love fully and not just slap down meaningless words #so i will most likely make a pt. 2 #and probably a pt. 3 as well #fanfic writer appreciation day #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker fic rec #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic rec #grace babbles #i'll meet queue in the afterglow

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 29 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Okay y’all...listen. I meant to get this part up yesterday, but the Met Gala ate my fucking soul. Billie and Cody finally together at an event since MONTHS AGO at Ryan Murphy’s Walk of Fame ceremony is a thing I have been waiting for...since then, which was back in November. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED. Cody looked like some kind of cerulean space prince, and Kenzie looked like a goddamn glitter princess barbie, and then they started screaming along to Cher together and I DIED and now I’m speaking to you from heaven. IT’S BEEN A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE WE GOT ANY COLLIE CONTENT. I was on cloud nine, and I still am. It’s the intense, magnetic chemistry between them that birthed Millory in the first place, and Millory, of course, birthed Duckenzie. The two of them so happy together after months of not seeing each other was just so incredibly wonderful, I feel so grateful to Leslie in particular. I still feel like I’m high off of all of it, but especially the two of them, who are just absolute royalty to me. AND NOW ON TO THE CHAPTER: This is a big one. I’ve been waiting for a long time to introduce Rosemary to all of you--who is (did you guess?) my Angela Basset/Marie Laveau AU. I’ve known for awhile that she was going to play an important role in this story, and it was as wonderful for me to meet her as it was for Duckenzie here. She’ll show up one more time before the end; and I might do a little one-shot eventually where they go to visit her in New Orleans. She makes a really mean gumbo. Her top is like this, her skirt like this, her headscarf, her boots, some of her necklaces: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A reminder that Kenzie’s dress in this part looks like this. The Fates, at least, my version of them (certainly based on the Moirai but also on the many incarnations of Hecate, as she bestows magical powers on Kenzie and Duncan, and on the witches in the AHS universe, and all witches in all universes, at least in my mythology), were always going to be the Triple Goddess, the Goddess many witchcraft practitioners (myself included) pay homage to: once again, the Divine Feminine energy that guides true goodness in the universe. Her mythology is partially my own invention (giving her a Heaven, making her the force of Light that fights against cosmic Darkness/the Devil, rather than a patriarchal god), partially in accordance to many witch beliefs. I loved that “god” appears to Michael in APOCALYPSE as a little girl; if anyone remembers that I put Ariana Grande’s GOD IS A WOMAN way back in Part 4 (cuz y’all, even then I had plans), you get a cookie. Duckenzie’s High Destiny has long been in the works in the grace notes of my story; it’s the cosmic energy of their union bringing a balance into their world. I’d need some weed to deal with the information they’re given, hence they smoke some weed. To finally have a chance to explain the way in which Duncan and Kenzie are Michael and Mallory was a big moment for me and for this fic; and to explain that she will always be his saving grace, too. I didn’t want to focus on sadness or despair regarding Duncan’s fate as Michael; rather the joy of the redemption of Duncan’s universe. I had to put WITCH-QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS in this part as an homage to Rosemary being Marie Laveau in another life (also, it’s a fucking jam). Had to include a nod to Purity Ring’s BEGIN AGAIN in Duncan’s thoughts when he’s eating Kenzie out in this part, the most Millory song of all time to me. A reminder that this is the Demeter/Persephone illustration. This is the one of Selene looking down on Endymion. The excerpt Kenzie reads is indeed directly from the book. This chapter marks the closure of an important arc of my fic; from here on out, I’m moving forward into the last 1/3 of the story. As ever, your reblogs, comments, asks and edits (moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, everything) mean the world to me. If you’re reading, please take a minute to reblog the masterpost, thank you.

The light was high when he finally woke; the day was half over, Duncan could tell immediately, before he even opened his eyes. We slept all morning. Oh god, that’s so fucking wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I slept all morning. Something had woken him, he knew with a vague knowledge. A loud sound.

His dream drifted off. I was in the woods, dirty, starving, tired, and a little girl was offering me an apple, but I wouldn’t take it for some reason...I was waiting for someone else...and he forgot it, moving up from sleep into the summer daylight. The room was balmy-warm, the golden sunlight past the window, coming from somewhere overhead, the wind drifting on the curtains again, the sound of a crow cawing outside somewhere over the lake. It was at least midday, but Duncan could smell the remnants of the hickory fire wafting through the window. It really was a good fire. And I made it. I pulled it out of my own heart, that fire.

There was a long, low buzzing--the doorbell, Duncan knew. Or rather, the bell for the front gate, the keypad and security feed downstairs beside the walnut-wood front door. Who the fuck could that possibly be. We didn’t tell anyone but Madeline where we were going. Maybe it is Madeline?

He stirred, his arm instinctively coming around Kenzie’s breast, his nose turning down into her hair; it smelled like the grass, the sun, her sweet sweat, and the residue of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. The bed was so wonderfully soft, the feel of her so exquisite--Duncan sent out jabs of resentment towards the sound that had woken him. How fucking dare you.

Kenzie stirred a little against him--he leaned up, brushing the hair from her cheek to kiss it. The buzz rang out again, low and insistent and bracing. Her eyes fluttered and she let out a little moan, turning her face up towards him.

“Dunny, what is that,” she murmured. “Turn it off.”

“It’s the buzzer for the gate, baby,” he replied, his own voice coming out in a groan. “Someone’s at the gate.”

Her eyes came open immediately at that. “What? Who?”

“I have no idea. Did we even tell anyone where the cabin is?”

“I didn’t. Did you?”

“No...I don’t think so…”

The buzzer rang again; Kenzie moaned, turning into him, burying her face in his bare chest. How fucking dare you, he thought again, bringing his face down, kissing beside the dip of her eye. How dare you make me get out of bed, away from her. Who could have possibly found us? He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating staying and letting whoever it was ring the buzzer until they got tired and went away--but no, he thought, with a twinge of precognition. It’s someone important. It’s someone we have to see. Oh god, I hope it isn’t Annette.

Duncan got up, pained to move away from her, sliding over the softness of the bed. He trod naked to his suitcase, feeling Kenzie’s eyes on him, her eyes falling down to the half-hardness of his sleepy cock, a pout around her mouth. We came out here to get away from everyone, and still, someone found us. Somehow. Fuck. He pulled on briefs and another pair of jersey shorts, these in dark black, and one of the plain black tee shirts, ruffling a hand through his hair, and yawned.

The buzzer. Again.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “Who the fuck is that?”

“If it’s Annette, I’m going to freak out,” Kenzie said, and Duncan watched her affectionately as she kicked her legs under the soft covers in frustration. He glanced at an elaborate golden-framed clock, beside one of the laurels. It was 12:17 PM. Fuck, it’s past noon. We slept for a long time. Fuck it. We earned it. We had a perfect day yesterday, full of wonders, and a perfect, long sleep. And now what--now what.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Duncan hesitated, then winked at her. Fuck it. I’ll move through space again. Why not. He closed his eyes and grinned as he heard Kenzie’s delighted hum towards him, felt her knowledge at what he was about to do. That’s it, Dunny, show me your magic. Then her laugh cut off--he ached at the loss of it--and before he opened his eyes again, he already knew he was downstairs, facing the inside of the front door.

There was a small iPad beside the door here, the intercom below it and remote buttons for opening and closing the gate. Duncan tapped the tablet with a finger, and the security camera feed came up, facing the outward side of the road. There was a red Toyota Camry parked there, and the woman in the front seat was pressing insistently at the buzzer--he heard it ring again through the house, heard the far-away sound of another exasperated groan from Kenzie upstairs. He couldn’t see the woman’s face very well from this angle, but he could see the chocolatey color of her skin as she extended an arm through the car window. Her nails were long and red.

Duncan switched the cameras; now the one on the feed was from straight above the outside buzzer the woman was pressing so incessantly. Now he could see into the driver’s seat clearly. He didn’t recognize the woman at all, but she was stunningly beautiful; she had sharp, slanting cheekbones, pursed in impatience, full lips in deep mauve, a dark silk titian-colored scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes flashed out at him through the camera; they were dramatically intense and bright, brimming with secret knowledge. Her skin was warm cocoa-brown, and flawless. Duncan shivered.

Who are you?

He pressed the talk button on the program’s interface, puzzled, frowning.

“Can I help you?”

The woman started; Duncan saw her jerk back in her seat, surprised. Her expression shifted from frustration to one that seemed to be relief--it was difficult to tell on the feed, but she seemed tired, as though she’d been waiting for a long time, or had missed sleep, her expression drawn. As he watched her on the iPad screen, she pressed a hand between her eyes, then lifted her palms together skyward, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.Then she leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Praise be to Her, is this Duncan Shepherd?”

Duncan balked. Fuck. Shit. They found us. Someone found us.

“May I ask who you are and what your business here is?”

“I know that’s you, I can feel that it’s you, honey--and I can feel Mackenzie Stone here, too. I need you to let me in. I drove almost 17 hours with some very poor sleep in between to get here from New Orleans, pulled by the Will of the Goddess with a forceful hand, because She wants me to speak to you two and tell you what She told me, that the time is upon us. Now, if you would be so kind, I am starving and would appreciate some breakfast, and I need to park this car before I crash it into a tree, blue eyes.”

“How did you find us? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We’ve been here for a day--”

“Sugar, honey, listen, I told you. The Goddess. Sent. Me. She came to me and She told me where you were and She told me everything. It’s gonna take awhile to tell you everything, so you best let me in and make me some eggs and some black coffee and roll me a big joint of that strong blue weed I know you got.”

What the fuck.

“Who are you?”

The woman let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes, dipping her chin up, then turned back to the intercom, enunciating with a pointed impatience.

“I am Her Hand, and She sent me, and Her will is to reveal your High Destiny. My name is Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, and you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd, best let me the fuck in.”

Her words came like a heavy weight against Duncan’s mind, a pressing hand squeezing on his heart. This woman was powerful; he could feel her power from here, surrounding him, pressing against him, running along the edges of his skin, brushing the sleep from his mind, stoking him wide awake. This woman is a seer, a priestess. She can see things that are happening, have happened, will happen. She’s the one who was coming--the thing on the horizon that we felt on its way. And now she’s here. It’s her destiny to come to us, it’s our destiny to receive and hear her. Okay, Fates. I get it. I’m picking it up, loud and clear. Shit.

Duncan double-tapped the button beside the intercom; OPEN GATE.

He watched the beautiful woman through the screen; she smiled, her teeth shining out from her face--he could see her eyes flash, marvelously clear despite the smallness of the iPad screen.

“Blessed be,” she said, pushing a pair of large dark sunglasses over her eyes. Then she laughed, and the laugh sent a shiver up Duncan’s spine; it was lit with a bright joy that seemed to descend from the top of his head down into every part of his body, a tingling, vibrating energy charged with prophecy. It’s here. She’s here. The thing that was coming has arrived.

He turned away from the intercom and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time; his heart was hammering and he felt far too nervous, suddenly, to try to use his still-mysterious power once more.

“Kenz,” he called as he reached the landing, sprinting down the hall. Something was lifting him up now; kindling his excitement, pitching his nerves to a high place. “Baby--” He ran through the bedroom doorway, skidding to a stop, falling onto the bed on his knees. Kenzie was sitting up now, clutching the blanket against her naked torso, her chestnut-light hair tangled around her shoulders, staring at him with an apprehension in her sleepy eyes; then she saw his face, lit with that strange excitement building in his gut, and smiled at him, nervously.

“Dunny, what? Who was it? What is it?”

“Kenzie, it’s--I don’t know who she is, but it’s her. The one that was coming. The one we felt. You know? She’s the one. She’s beautiful, Kenzie. She’s a medium--or something, I can feel it. You know how we were talking about going to see a psychic? Well--I think she came to us. She felt us. Kenzie, she said she just drove here for 17 hours from New Orleans. She said her name is...Rosemary. Something. She said--fuck, Kenzie, she said The Goddess sent me, She told me where you were--”

His words were tumbling out at break-neck speed--he slid over the softness of the bed to grasp Kenzie’s (beautiful, tiny, beloved) hands, and he could see the uncertainty in her gaze bleeding out into the excitement he felt.

“Duncan--really?”

“Really, my love. Oh, fuck. Really.”

Kenzie let the blanket fall away from her, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself--he clutched at her, under the sweet roundness of her little breasts, pulled her against him, immediately devouring her mouth in a kiss that flooded his body with tingling energy. Her divinity washed over him--the tide of her. Mackenzie Stone. We’re here, at the doorway, our Fate is on the other side. I’m not afraid. You’re here with me.

“I found you,” he murmured into her lips. “I found you, I found you, we’re here, we’re here together, I’m ready--”

“Oh, baby--” and Kenzie was kissing him breathlessly, her smell the sweetest thing in all the world, roses crushing into him. Duncan leaned away to look at her; Kenzie’s eyes were gold-flecked and infinitely bright, and her beauty was iridescent in the noon sunlight winking through the curtains. Mackenzie Shepherd, angel of my life, the part of me that was cut away, the fixed, irrevocable light of my soul.

“She said she has a lot to tell us. She’s coming now, she’s probably almost at the door. I’m going to make us all some breakfast. She knew things, Kenz, I don’t fucking know--I feel like she knows everything about us. You’ll see. Even through the screen I could feel her power. It was coppery-purple, like a sheen all over her...come downstairs when you’re ready, okay, baby? Take your time. I can feel it, can you feel it?”

“Yes, baby, yes. I can feel it so much I can hardly breathe.” Tears were in her eyes; he kissed her again, and Kenzie clung to him, her softness overwhelming to him, and for a moment he wished he could throw her down into the bed, kiss every inch of her nakedness, every tiny secret place of her heart. Then they broke apart; Duncan knew as he could feel she did that the time was upon them, and his adorations would have to come later.

The time when we find out who we really are.

Kenzie slid away from him towards the edge of the bed and he grasped her waist, helping her down--she stood there, naked and shivering in some phantom breeze, her golden hair falling down her back in a shimmering wave, then she kneeled to her suitcase, tucking the strands that fell into her eyes behind her ears, looking away from him, determined. Duncan gathered up the bag of weed, the lighter, his grinder and his gold pipe from one of the laurel mantels where they’d left it yesterday, then went to the door, looking back at her again for a moment, trailing a hand through the side of his hair.

“Kenzie, baby--”

“Dunny, I know. I know. Just go downstairs, okay? I’ll be there soon. I know. I feel it too.”

He nodded inside her gold-flecked gaze, then turned away, sniffing back the tears he felt coming, trying to stave them. I feel the hand of destiny, and oh Fate, it’s heavy. It’s fearsome to behold it, to contemplate its weight, this Thing, this knowledge we’re about to be given.

Duncan heard a sharp, determined knock on the door downstairs then, and his breath caught. He ran down the hall, throwing himself down the stairs; he reached the door, flipping the double turning locks in fumbling fingers, yanked at the long handle--as he pulled the door wide a burst of golden sunlight drifted over his eyes, caught in the dappled trees. He lifted a hand to shield his face, and saw the woman standing there, silhouetted in a golden shroud that was like a holy halo around her. A halo, like Kenzie’s, Duncan thought. And then he heard her laugh again--and her laugh was even more beautiful now that he was standing before her. A laugh the angels would sigh to hear.

She reached out for him--Duncan felt frozen inside her dark-bright eyes, intensely focused on him beneath arched, graceful brows, the sharpness of her cheeks glowing dark sienna in the sun. She was immediately imposing; regal, her posture graceful, her poise intimidating and unmistakable. Her mouth smiled that radiantly white smile he’d glimpsed through the iPad screen; his breath caught to see it in the flesh, struck by her majesty, the expression on her staggeringly beautiful features, knowing, wise, and expectant. Her burgundy-colored blouse had long, drifting sleeves that fluttered in the slight wind, and her long black skirt fell to her ankles with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. On her feet were heeled knee-high boots in dark brown leather. Around her neck were what seemed to be a dozen necklaces, gold and silver chains mixed in with leather cords and multi-colored ropes of beads; a raven skull, the claws of unknown animals, the symbol of the waxing, full, and waning moons (like the one Kenzie has), the voluptuous shape of a woman, a huge pointed obsidian, and countless tiny quartz points.

“I see what she’s done to you, Evening Star,” she said, and Duncan felt his breath gasp, suddenly caught in his throat. That’s what Kenzie called me. Sword of the Evening Star. “Snatched you from the jaws of darkness in this world. And I am moved to see it. As I knew I would be. The time of your High Destiny has come.”

Her hand came around his; her touch was very warm and strong. As she stepped closer Duncan could smell myrrh and resin and musky vanilla. The urge of tears rose in him again--the woman clasped her other hand around his, so she was gripping it in both. Her face was about level to his chin in her heeled boots, and she looked up at him with an approving grace; she seems taller than me, though, he thought. The energy around her is so focused; so carefully, intricately controlled.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked, and heard the trembling in his voice.

“Rosemary Antigone Delacroix. High Priestess of Her Will. The Goddess, from whom all life in this universe flows; from whom the life in every universe flows. Mother of all, three-faced, infinite. Your mother, and mine, and the mother of the High Princess, the Hidden Sphere Herself, whom you are blessed to love. Infinitely blessed, sweet Prince, with whom you will heal this suffering world.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickling instantly, wildly. I knew it. I felt it. That she’s divine. That she’s holy.

“Please, come in.”

Rosemary’s smile lingered as she stepped past him, scattering its light over him; she moved into the house, beyond the staircase, her steps determined, her movements refined, hands clasped together in front of her, through the front room and towards the kitchen. She seemed to know where it was without needing to ask him, and Duncan followed, mesmerized by her. As they reached the kitchen Rosemary sat at the wooden island, reaching out for his hand again--this time, he knew, for the one that held the weed. He passed it all off to her and she sighed; the sound of her voice was deeply lovely, but he could hear the tinge of tiredness.

“Make me some eggs, would you, sugar? I like ‘em a little runny, lots of butter. And some of that turkey bacon I know you have in the fridge there.” Duncan stared for a moment, blinking as she rolled a big bud in her fingers, then began to sprinkle it inside his grinder. She paused, looking up at him expectantly. “And a big-ass coffee. I’ll pack this bowl. All three of us are going to need some fortification for these revelations. Don’t you worry, your seer is here. I know you’ve been waiting, I feel it in this house, you filled it with your hopes and dreams and your confusion as soon as you got here. I feel it on your skin. You two have power unlike any I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t learned how to control it yet, that’s for certain. It’s zooming around in this space like it’s been snorting cocaine.”

Duncan turned as if waking out of a dream to the fridge, pulling out the eggs, bacon, and a stick of butter, retrieving a frying pan from a line of them against the wall, listening to the smooth clarity of her voice. Her energy seemed to be settling into the kitchen--dusky purple, warm, steady. He could almost see it, the way he could see Kenzie’s gold sometimes. She was taking the edge off him--bringing him down to her calmness, her certainty.

“So...Rosemary. Who--what--how--” He went to the Keurig that sat on the counter, starting a cup, then brought a hand absently to his chin, looking back at her again. She was deftly packing the bowl to the brim, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “How did you...what did She...”

The Goddess, triple-faced, infinite.

“Shhh, blue-eyed Prince. You need to take it slow. All of this--” she gestured around the kitchen, but Duncan knew she meant all of it--the cabin, the lake, the forest with the clearing of black oaks, the field open to the stars--”this place is potent, full of your power, like a power outlet for your magicks. It’s why they’ve been so strong since you got here. This is an in-between place, and anyone who has even a little bit of the power you two have can feel it. But for the High Princess and her sweet consort, it’s like being given an electric shock--one that goes on and on. It’s the reason your lusts have been so potent, too.”

Duncan blushed at that. Lately, mine always are.

She smiled at him, knowing, then lit the bowl and breathed deeply from it, blowing out in a satisfied stream, leaning back against the wooden island.

“Hoo, that’s some good rich people shit,” she hummed. “Ooph, that’s good. Just what I needed, Praise be to Her. Thank you, Mother.”

Duncan got to work on the eggs, carefully cracking two into the pan and slipping two sides of the bacon next to them, deftly pressing the edges of the egg whites with a steel spatula. The smell made his stomach immediately begin to rumble; she’s right, we definitely need to eat before we get into all of this. All...of what?

“You two.” He could hear Rosemary laughing a little now from where his back was turned. “You two have burst upon the world like a garden. The media was not prepared. The public was not prepared. The world is not prepared, but they will get prepared--real quick. The current of time has turned towards fortune. And that, my dear Prince, is a beautiful thing. Beautiful beyond words. That I have lived to see this time is a great blessing.”

“Rosemary, what do you mean? How did you find us here?”

“Wait for her. For the Princess. The little golden goddess. Then I’ll begin.”

Duncan pulled down a plate and slipped the eggs onto it, a little runny, glassy with butter as she had asked. He flipped the bacon to let it fry for a bit longer, and brought the plate over to Rosemary, who appraised him with power drifting in her gaze. She took it, her warm hand brushing against his again; he felt the current pass through them, felt her strength, the depths of her knowledge touch his mind.

“You’ve been manifesting powers here, have you? And before you got here, too.”

“Fuck, yes. Non-stop, practically. I’ve been--transporting myself with my mind. Teleporting? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Transmutation. Salire per spatium. The ability to move, magically, instantly, from one space to another, without physically occupying the space between.” Rosemary took another long puff from Duncan’s gold pipe, then sliced into an egg with her fork, dipping it between her very white teeth. “Mm, baby. Perfect. You can fry an egg for certain.”

“Yeah. Yes. And Pyrokinesis. That’s what it’s called, right? The ability to conjure fire.”

“Create, control, manipulate. All of it. You can do all of those, I guarantee it. Try it.” She nodded to the stovetop, which Duncan had turned on manually. The bacon was sizzling, done--Duncan took a deep breath, then drifted his fingers close to the element, concentrated. Go back now. Go back. The fire went low, blue-white, and then died--the stovetop began to cool instantly.

“Mm--mm-mm,” Rosemary hummed. “Lovely. I can do a little myself, but nothing so smooth as that. That’s lovely. And I can only imagine what she’s been doing.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rosemary. She is so beautiful. I can’t even tell you…”

“You’re biased, baby blue, but I’m sure you’re right. Any other things you’ve found out you can do?”

“She can sense my emotions over long distances...I found out something I hadn’t known the other day that really upset me, and she felt my emotions even though we were on opposite sides of the city. And...we can read each other’s thoughts. You’re the first person who knows that, and I don’t even know who you are. But...yeah. It’s like colors--she looks and feels like gold...she says mine is blue. I can kind of see mine, sometimes, if the emotion is really strong. Now that she’s here. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do any of this before. Before we met.”

Duncan brought the bacon over to Rosemary’s plate and slid it down from the pan. She immediately dipped a graceful hand to it, blowing on it, crunching it in her teeth. He brought her coffee over, starting one for Kenzie now. “I can hear little bits of other people’s thoughts now sometimes, when they’re really strong. I think Kenzie can do it almost all the time. And she can heal people--their bodies, their hearts, their anger. It looks like gold when she does that, too. She can sort of...press it into people, like she’s wrapping them in a blanket.”

He started more eggs in the pan, silent for a little while as Rosemary sipped her coffee. Then he went on.

“Two nights ago there was a Gala--”

“The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, everyone knows that, honey,” Rosemary cut him off. “You two are on the front page of a lot of shit since yesterday.”

Duncan winced, plating the other eggs and getting to work on more bacon. “Really? We turned our phones off before we left. We really wanted to just get away for a few days. It’s been...really intense since Kenzie and I found each other. The scrutiny’s been intense.”

“I understand, Duncan. When my task is done--that is, to tell you your destiny--I’ll be gone, for I have many duties, and you will have a little more time to be alone together. But the Goddess told me what to do, so I’m doing it. When She speaks, everyone best listen. Let me give you a warning. When the two of you go back--back to DC, I mean--the world will have changed. As if time opened a new window. You are on the path now, one heading towards a bright future, not just for you and Mackenzie, but for this universe. There are many--universes, I mean. Not all of them are kind, or light, or good, some of them have no light, and some have a depth of both. This universe has much darkness, but like clouds parting from the sun, your union here will bring transcendent light. As there is a balance of greater darkness in other universes, this one will swing to the light. A major obstacle will have passed when you return, but there will be a new onslaught of attention focused on you and Mackenzie. You will need to be her sword at every turn; you will bow to her light and others will follow your example. So gather your strength.”

Duncan’s head was pounding. What does any of that even mean? Other universes?

“Are you talking about...quantum theory? Like, parallel universes?”

At that moment Duncan heard a soft sound in the doorway--he looked up to see Kenzie coming into the kitchen on bare feet. She was tucking her chestnut-golden hair behind her ear, her face nervously turned down, eyes huge, fingers at her mouth; she wore a floor-length white linen dress, covered in a print of pale pinkish roses, with a dipping neck and short, puffed sleeves. The Tiffany moon glinted at her throat; as she moved her arm the Cartier bracelet flashed there in gold and diamond. Rosemary had turned to her, and Kenzie’s eyes were wide on the other woman. God she’s so beautiful so beautiful so powerful I can feel her lovely power like a field of a thousand violets, like the water flowing out from the sea...Duncan could hear Kenzie’s thoughts falling out of her in a long stream.

Rosemary’s face was cast into an immediate affection--a curious wonder. Her mouth dipped open, away from the black coffee cup which had been poised at her mouth a moment before, and she sighed; the sigh of relief that comes after a long, anticipatory wait.

“Child. Sweet child of heaven.”

“Hi,” Kenzie whispered. She stopped in front of Rosemary, and the woman reached out her beautiful dark fingers. Kenzie slipped her small hands against Rosemary’s; Duncan felt speechless, his heart feeling crushed by the moment, his eyes immediately blurred by tears.

“I am Rosemary Delacroix, and I am a mouthpiece for Her, the three-headed, the absolute, the Goddess. She has many names. Time. The universe. God. Goddess. Fate. Destiny. But she is the one who brought all life to be, kindled it, nurtured it, tended to it. She is the one who remakes life, rebuilds it, cycles it through every age, in every place, in every aspect. She made me; she made you and your sweet blue-eyed Prince from the stars burning like these diamonds, many eons ago.” Rosemary’s finger drifted to the bracelet; her dark eyes glanced up at the one on Duncan’s wrist, knowingly, and he shivered. “She made the thread that tethered you together, Mackenzie Stone and Duncan Shepherd, long ago, before she made Time, because you, sweet High Princess, asked her to. You loved him; you asked to be together always. And she granted your wish. Because you were--you are--beloved in the sight of heaven. You are a High Princess of Her Body, and of the Garden. You are the Hidden Sphere.”

Long, aching tears fell from Kenzie’s cheeks--she glanced over to Duncan, biting her trembling lip, her thoughts crushed gold. I do love him. I do love you, Duncan, more than anything. I do love you. I love you. This woman knows--knows I’m divine, the way you said you knew. The way I can feel it, now, and I can’t find the words.

“It’s fine to cry, honey. It’s fine. You cry as much as you want, mmhm? Come sit with me, angel baby. You come sit with me and let me bask in your sweet light. I can feel it now, like taking a bath in a pool of gold. Goddess, praise be. That’s just fucking lovely. Praise be to Her. She made the masterpiece, sweet sugar, in you--that gold, like a waterfall. What a soul.”

“Duncan’s the one who looks like a masterpiece to me,” Kenzie was laughing a little through her tears, settling down on the bench next to Rosemary, who had dipped a long arm under Kenzie’s elbow to steady her. Duncan brought Kenzie’s breakfast over to her, trying to hide the tears on his cheek with a swift hand--she looked up at him, biting her lip, nodding. “Thanks baby,” she whispered. I love you so much, he heard her thought. I’m not afraid.

“What do you mean, asked to be together always?” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “Are you saying there’s a goddess...that controls the universe, and Kenzie is...what, her daughter?”

Rosemary looked at him for a long moment, her eyes staggering with depth. For a time Duncan felt lost, mesmerized inside them; like the whirling gold galaxies he’d seen in Kenzie’s eyes in the dream, or the blue nebulas she said she saw in his, he felt he could see violet supernovas, cascades of cosmic dust in Rosemary’s gaze for a moment. Something infinite and eternal. Something constant, and huge beyond imagining.

“Make yourself some breakfast first, Duncan. You’re going to need something in your stomach before we really begin. I want both of you to know right now--there is much to tell. It will take some time. My heart is full of all of it. I need your strength, my dear one, to help me tell you everything.” Rosemary pulled Kenzie’s hand into her lap again, gripping it with strong fingers. Kenzie was nodding--a silent, secret thought seemed to pass between them, one Duncan could not see or hear in his mind. He felt immediately frustrated to be cut off from them; then he heard Kenzie speak to him alone in gold waves: be patient, baby, beloved, be patient, okay? Take a breath, the kind you showed me after my nightmare, when you held me so sweetly.

Their eyes met; Rosemary’s gaze shifted between them. Okay baby, Duncan thought, breathing in through his nose, holding it, breathing out. He turned back to his eggs, his stomach in knots.

“To be near both of you gives me strength already.” Rosemary’s face clouded with emotion; she seemed close to tears, and raised the coffee cup to her face again to gather her composure. “The Goddess has made all things in perfect balance, the light and dark, the day and night, and both of you--the perfect balance of these things, the great duality of her creations. To be here with you is to behold her Wonders. Eat, child.” Rosemary gestured to Kenzie’s plate, and Kenzie nodded, picking up a piece of the bacon, biting into it. Duncan brought his own breakfast over to the island, and sat carefully, across from her, reaching out his hand. Kenzie took it, her eyes wildly bright.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, Dunny, she thought.

Mine too, my sweet Kenzie. Oh, god. Goddess. Whoever is listening. The Fates who have been guiding us…

“Rosemary,” Duncan said, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Since we met, I keep going back to this one image, of the Fates, you know, like in mythology--Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. I keep seeing them in my mind’s eye, seeing them weaving this thread for us, the one that brought us together. Does that mean something?”

Rosemary finished the food on her plate, sighed a little, contentedly, and brought his gold pipe up to her lips again, breathing deeply. She dipped a hand under her chin, her eyes taking on a serene expression.

“It’s Her. She is the Fates. The Goddess--She has three faces. Many know Her by them, and worship Her in these aspects, She has many names. She is three-headed in that way; She is never totally the same from one moment to the next. When She came to me this time, She was very young and beautiful--Her skin like the tanned sand under a long sun--Her eyes bright in unbroken joy, her body smooth. But She does not always appear this way. Her aspect is ever-changing, the color of Her skin, Her hair, Her eyes, Her face; when I see Her, I feel it is Her, for She never appears the same. Sometimes She is very old, and sometimes She is a mother, her belly swollen, and sometimes She is not a woman at all, not entirely--She is some other great thing, made of stars and strange matter. I’ve seen Her this way, in dreams.”

She passed the pipe to Kenzie, and Kenzie took it in her small hands, head dipping to breathe in from it. Kenzie was still crying--Duncan’s fingers slid over her palm, sending the strongest wave of comfort he could into her. I love you, baby, I love you, everything is okay, everything’s going to be okay, better than okay…

“The Fates are her aspects--all three are Her. You thought of them because you thought of Her--because you knew, you know it was She who brought the two of you together. Your destiny--the High Destiny, as it has been called--was written when the stars were new. Mackenzie Stone, you are the High Princess of her Heaven. You were an Angel, once, Exalted; there is no earthly word for what you were, but an Angel is the closest word to it. You were the most divine of all. You were loved above all by Her in her heaven; and you still are. I know you feel that, child. I know you know you were loved so. And that you are loved--so much. Her eyes have looked down on you from her heaven and thought Beloved, for millions of years.”

“Yes,” and Kenzie was crying earnestly, her lips trembling as she spoke, shoulders shaking, eyes awash in tears. “Yes, Rosemary, I know. I can feel it.” Duncan gripped her hand tightly, aching to hold her; her fingers clutched him, like he was her only tether in a vast ocean.

“Before conceivable time, you fell in love.” Rosemary nodded to Duncan. “You fell in love with him. Listen to me, Duncan: you too were an Exalted being, an Angel, like Mackenzie. They called you the Sword of the Evening Star, as She has told me. You were a Knight--like a Knight, a Prince in the service of Their holy protection--of Her Holy Court; the fairest of all of her Knights, who are very fair indeed, fair beyond earthly eyes. There is a great Darkness in the universe--in the pantheon of universes. It aches to snuff out the light of Her Heaven, the love that dwells there. Some call it the Devil; Satan; Lucifer. He--It--has many names. But It is mostly the Darkness; the energy that must juxtapose her Light. It wishes, eternally, to destroy Her. But her Knights hold it at bay; her fighters, her warriors, her faithful. In that age, you fought for Her Light, and prevailed many times. She loves you very much. She chose you from many to lead the protection of her Sphere; the Heaven she made, long ago. It is Hidden from that Darkness, made safe through the power of her Grace. Get me some water, Duncan, honey.”

Duncan stood, feeling dizzy, going to the fridge. A Knight for a Goddess. A Warrior Prince. He couldn’t even feel incredulous--he was beyond disbelief. Whatever Rosemary is saying is true, he knew. She knows everything--and she has to tell us. My inability to understand doesn’t make any of this impossible. It just makes my ability to conceive it inadequate.

“Each time you are reincarnated--yes, Mackenzie, reincarnated--” Rosemary said, as Kenzie let out a tiny gasp. “The Darkness, in His cunning, tries to get at you. Sometimes, He has succeeded. As there is Feminine energy in the universes, there is also Masculine energy; there is an endless battle of wills, balance of energies. Their duality is not fixed, rather it shifts and changes from universe to universe, age to age. Yes, Duncan, quantum theory, as it’s called--there are many parallel universes next to this one. Infinite universes, in fact, beyond our ability to conceive. A version of you--both of you--exists in each universe. And as there are many universes, there are many lives you have lived before this one, in this universe, as well. There is another life you have glimpsed here, a life you lived in the past--”

“The Mirror,” Kenzie said, softly. Her eyes were staring into Rosemary’s face, but Duncan could see that her thoughts were fixated on the vast golden Mirror he knew was resting silently in the penthouse bedroom, many miles away, a relic to a past that had been unknown to them until this moment. Frederick knew, he thought. He may not have totally understood, but he knew it was special, that it was magical, and that it was always ours.

“Yes, chickadee, sweet honey,” Rosemary sipped her coffee again, cradling it in her graceful red-nailed hands. “That Mirror belonged to you in another life--you were royalty then, a Viscountess, a powerful witch--that is, a seer for Her--at that time too, with many of the skills you are manifesting now. And in that time you found each other as well, but there was an accident; you both were murdered in the Revolution at that time, in the streets of Paris. And so time turned to another place, another page--and your spirits moved on. But the Mirror has magick. It’s no ordinary Mirror. There are strands of the Golden Sphere in it; strands of the divine instrument given to you by the Goddess, Mackenzie, when you were in her Heaven, in her embrace. A gift that symbolized her love, and her Heaven, which will always be your home. When you were cast to earth when the Law of Time was written, the Sphere fell with you, but it was mostly destroyed when the Darkness tried to rend it. What remained--the fragments left over--were made into the Mirror by one of her seers of old; a disciple of her Light, as I am. And so it will always find you in this world, too, for it cannot be destroyed until this world ends.”

Duncan was standing beside the fridge, still holding it open, the water glass poised in his hand, frozen in her words. Kenzie gaped at Rosemary with her mouth dipped open, her golden hair falling around her cheeks. Rosemary glanced between them, then beckoned to Duncan, and said.

“But that is the Law for the two of you. To exist, always, and find each other, always, into eternity, until the Law of Time is over, when you will return to the Sphere of her Grace. No one knows when that will be, or if it will ever be. That I do not know. I only see small bits and pieces of the future, and their shape is always strange to me.”

Duncan’s hand was shaking as he brought the glass he’d filled to Rosemary--but her hand was steady, and she smiled up at him, reassuringly. I think for now I just need to listen, and try to understand, he thought. I can’t even imagine anything to say. Just please hold my hand, baby.

Kenzie reached out again as he sat, twining her fingers through his tightly. She brought another slice of bacon to her lips, eating despite her tears. Duncan moved his fork to his plate, resolved to the same. They ate quietly as Rosemary went on. What else can we do.

“You met, as was meant to happen, in the Garden of All Delights, where the known universes were all born. It’s a very beautiful place--beautiful beyond all conceivable beauty to our pitiful human eyes. It’s made of colors--oh, colors you can’t imagine.”

Those colors I saw in my dreams.

“Like this universe, Duncan, when you laid eyes on Mackenzie there, the first time, you knew she was your love for all time. There you stayed together for eons by our measure of time. The Goddess saw, and She smiled to see your perfect happiness--the selflessness of your love for Her Princess, Her Joy, Her Golden Child, and Her selfless love for you, the perfect embodiment of Her Grace. Your Names, in that perfect state--there aren’t words for them. She didn’t tell them to me, and if She had I could not speak of them. But you know them, in your secret, hidden hearts. They are beyond all human language. I know She’s shown you the forms you had then in a dream--and so you know those forms are beyond human comprehension, nearly beyond description. Please know that those are your true forms. There is more time before you adopt them again, but someday you will return to them again. In some other age.”

Yes, Duncan thought; he knew. Kenzie with her white-gold hair with a thousand flowers, each one a universe. Her eyes like golden galaxies. Her clothing made of impossible geometry. Her wings inconceivable and more delicate than those of any beast on earth. He could feel Kenzie thinking similarly of what she had seen of him in her side of the dream; his long golden hair and eyes like blue nebulas floating in ether, his shining aegis, impossibly slender and delicate, the strange wonder of his own wings.

“When the laws of the universe, of Time, were written, it was dictated that you--you, Mackenzie, and you, Duncan, would always find each other. In every conceivable universe, and every conceivable age. The Goddess, infinite in Her wisdom and mercy, could not spare you from the Great Law--the law of pain, death, and rebirth--but She could ensure that as the cycle of all things goes on, you would find each other in perpetuity. That you would never long be parted from one another. And Her law has been proven true, as it ever was, in Her Grace. I promise you, in every time, in every age, in every universe, you’ve found each other; for the places in which you haven’t yet, you will. And each time either of you dies--for you have both died countless deaths, as I have, as every living soul has--the cycle begins anew. You cannot long be separated. The Old Law of your love--the Great Love, true as dawn--is known and honored for all time.”

“You mean--Rosemary, do you really mean--we’ll always find each other, no matter what?” Duncan clutched at Kenzie’s fingers as he spoke, looking between them.

“No matter what, I promise you. You were the first Soulmates; in your love was written the Law.”

Duncan took the golden pipe from Kenzie’s hands, which were shaking like leaves in caught in a strong wind--he could see his own shaking too, but felt strangely removed from them, lost in the incomprehensibility of Rosemary’s words. He lit the bowl, breathing deeply, holding the smoke inside his lungs for a long moment--it settled into them, and he breathed out, counting. 1, 2, 3, 4...he handed the bowl, still lit, to Kenzie, who breathed from it again. Her tears seemed to dissipate, soften, her shaking fading into calm stillness.

“Rosemary, can we go outside? There’s a gazebo out there--it’s lovely. We can look at the lake. I think Kenzie needs some fresh air.” Kenzie glanced at Duncan with eyes filled with overwhelming affection as he said this. Rosemary nodded, her aspect calming, soothing, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of her words. This is truly a woman of exquisite power. “You bring that bowl, honey.” She reached for Kenzie’s hand and helped her up.

They all made their way out onto the deck and down the stone path, to where the gazebo lay in the pleasing solitude of the early afternoon. Duncan could see a flock of ducks swimming on the surface of the middle of the lake, beyond where the canoe creaked with a pleasant rhythm; there were more clouds in the sky today than yesterday, but it was still bright and warm, the breeze present again. Rosemary helped Kenzie onto one end of the long couch; Kenzie’s face was pale and her hands still seemed to be trembling. Rosemary moved to the other end, and Duncan knew innately she was leaving them space. Space to be together; to hold each other. He felt a wave of gratitude wash out from him towards the beautiful seer, this woman who had appeared as if out of thin air, by magic, in a car that had driven for an entire day, from thousands of miles away, to tell them impossible truths. He felt Rosemary’s drifting indigo-violet energy come against his, and knew she acknowledged his secret power, and his gratitude, as he acknowledged hers.

He slid next to Kenzie, his arms coming around her tightly, his nose falling against her hair to breathe her in. Roses, vetiver, geranium. Her own underlying musk, the heady scent of her and her alone. Kenzie’s head fell against his chest, her arms gripping him at the waist. Kenzie, we’ll always find each other, no matter what. I could die, I could shout into the sky, I could cry and never stop crying. My heart is full of you. My happiness in this knowledge is absolute. Kenzie seemed beyond words, but the drift of her gold against him was so staggeringly lovely, so intense, he fought to breathe. My Persephone. Flower of the universe.

“Now. There’s a lot more She told me to tell you. Listen carefully, my sweet moon children,” and Duncan heard Kenzie’s thought, like a memory, two moon children in love--

“As I told you a little bit ago--there is a great Darkness in the universe, in the pantheon of universes. As She is older than Time, so is the Darkness. He--It--has a far-reaching hand. You know that Darkness in this world; but this world, unlike others, does not have the depth of power that allows it full sway. The magic in this universe is not as vast as it is in others; here it exists in the hidden aspects. Your coming together has brought some of that magic to life here, but it is finite, and it has limits. There are other universes where your power is stronger, but the Darkness is stronger in those universes, too.”

“We’ve been having these dreams...” Kenzie said in a small voice. The air seemed to be soothing her; the breeze ruffled her hair as Duncan’s hands drifted against its softness.

Rosemary was nodding. “The Darkness had you in its grip here, Duncan, and it was attempting to tighten that grip. Your family in this world, its notoriety, its intentions--they have long been conspiring with the Darkness, long been courting its gifts. Your adopted mother, your uncle; they have done terrible things in the name of their own desires, and they wished to drag you into the shadows with them. They almost succeeded; you were almost fooled. But the Old Law prevailed, as it always does, one way or another. That Law is Love; that Law is Mackenzie; that Law is your High Destiny. The Goddess knew that your love would defeat that Darkness every time. And it always will. The Law she wrote is strong and it will hold. But the means by which it holds is never clear until you meet.”

Rosemary had brought her water glass out with them, and sipped at it for a moment, pausing. Her face turned to the lake; as she gazed at it, she smiled, but her smile had some sadness threaded into it. It was a smile that knew the bittersweet taste of life--knew the balance was impregnable.

“There are universes where your ending is not a happy one, I’m afraid. Despite finding each other, you don’t always get to be together this way. You suffer acutely in some; you die. But the death is written too--the death comes at your own hands, or you die together. It’s the Law; if you cannot be together, you must begin again, which means you first must be taken out of that time, the obstacle therefore removed. Duncan, I must tell you; there are universes where the Darkness claims you. And in some of them, in some of those lives, you cannot be saved but through death.”

Duncan felt a heavy hand settle on his heart--felt the breath drift out of his body as he gasped for air. Kenzie held him closer, and he heard the tiny sound of her sob against him. Oh baby, sweet Kenzie, please don’t cry so. Don’t cry for me that way. I love you. Here, we’re together. Please don’t cry. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Is that what the dreams mean?” he asked, cradling Kenzie’s shivering body against his. He felt the terrible heat of her tears soaking through his shirt, her face turned into him, hidden, overcome.

“Yes. They are another life. Another universe. One where your ending is not a happy one. One where Kenzie’s love saves you; as it did here, as it ever does; but not to such happy ends, I’m afraid. It’s just one example of the window of infinite lives you have lived, lives you are living as we speak, in other places, in other universes. That life, that universe, is particularly potent. The magick there is much stronger than the magick here. It encircles that world like a dense fog; it surrounds it and seeps into everything. There you have powers beyond imagining, both of you. The power to raise the dead. The power to turn time backwards. The power to change the shape of things; things that should otherwise be immutable. Or destroy them entirely, completely--utterly.”

“Blue butterflies out of rose petals,” Kenzie whispered. “You making snow, Duncan.”

“Yes,” he whispered against her hair. You, Kenzie, blood on your mouth, turning back time.

“The power to travel to Hell, even, Descensum; to the pit of Darkness. Because there, Duncan, you are a being of Darkness. In that world, you are Michael, the Son of Darkness--in that world, the Darkness claimed you when you were born into it, and the Goddess cannot reach you. There, you are a powerful conjurer, a warlock, and Kenzie--Mallory, as you are called there--you are a powerful witch, in fact, the most powerful of all witches in that world, more powerful than the witches of any other world. A Supreme. Kenzie does not save you in life in that world, however; but through your death. So it is written.”

Duncan felt unable to speak; I think I knew that. I think I knew, when I had that dream on the beach, the dream where I was dying, and grandma told me to go to Hell. And Kenzie was there, her hair dark on her shoulders, she was that other version of herself, the Mallory self, and she held me, and I died.

“My nightmare,” Kenzie burst into a sob again, the wail in her voice making Duncan bury his face, his eyes closing, against her hair, making his heart clench until he felt as though he would suffocate in the agony of her sadness. “My nightmare. That man with your face, Duncan--that man was you in that place, that man was you, consumed, that was real, oh, no, oh no, no--”

Duncan couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; could only hold her, his heart pressed down with the depth of her sadness, determined to hold her as long as she needed him to. Even for that other me, the depth of her grace is staggering. The immensity of her love. I feel lost inside it; it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. Whatever darkness is in me, no matter where I am, who I am, it’s nothing next to her light. I know that. Absolutely. I’d die a thousand times for you, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven. A million times. I’ll die for eternity to be with you for just a moment. That, I promise you. I swear it. I will worship and love you endlessly, as I promised to, when we were Exalted--as we will be again one day. I know I will always recognize your soul.

“Sweet golden child of Her Grace,” Rosemary said, staring at Kenzie with violet, soothing warmth. “Do not despair--there is no need for it. You save him in every world. Your love is what saves him. Reach out with your heart into every hidden place. You know it’s true. There is no place your love cannot reach him. And death is not the end. In her Will, it is never really the end. And here--” Rosemary gestured out onto the lake, to the sky beyond. “Here, in this world, in this life, you’ve been infinitely blessed. In this world, you get to be together; truly together. And not only that. Not only have you found each other, basked in each other, found a haven hidden from the eyes of the world in which to feed each other in power and affection. In this world you have been given even more, for the Goddess does not take away in one world what she doesn’t bestow again in another. Here, you have worldly riches, too, is that not so?”

Yes.

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered. “That was our destiny all along, too, wasn’t it?”

Rosemary gazed at him, and her expression was omniscient in the stretch of this moment; it kindled his spirit up, thrilling his nerves, achingly beautiful against his soul. Yes. That was the plan all along. That not only would you heal each other infinitely, here; you would, together, heal this world, and that, too, would be your happiness.

Kenzie had begun to quiet against him; she turned her tear-stained face up to him, and her eyes glittered unbearably in the afternoon light: gold, russet forest, green like growing leaves.

“The High Destiny,” she whispered. Duncan brought his hand up, wiping under her eyes, pressing the dampness into his shirt, cradling her face.

“Yes, sweet golden honey.” Rosemary was grinning; her face was effervescent in its beauty. She reached for the golden pipe again from where Duncan had set it on the low table beside the lantern, raising it languidly to her chin. “Praise be to Her, in whose eyes all is made clear and wondrous, three-faced, sweet as blessed wine. Your High Destiny is to bring a long peace into this world. And when others in this world behold you together, that is what they see. Your divinity, your goodness, and their redemption.” Duncan continued to look down at Kenzie--she stared at him with a dawning happiness spreading over her face that made him clutch her cheek, dip his mouth to kiss her, uncaring that Rosemary watched--Kenzie, my Kenzie, oh my Kenzie--

Rosemary breathed in another long drag of the gold pipe. Then she continued to speak, her legs crossed with ease, her hand drifting against her many necklaces, thumb trailing at the obsidian, the raven skull.

“I know what’s coming, what’s at the door; by the time you return to the Capital City, Bill Shepherd will have been dead for a day. Yesterday, he signed his Will, at Annette Shepherd’s behest. Duncan: you are now the sole heir of Shepherd Unlimited and all its holdings. Bill Shepherd, as is his way, has over $15 billion dollars in overseas assets that he hasn’t been filing with his taxes. Those assets will be yours in a few hours’ time. With Shepherd Unlimited LLC and the tools at its disposal, it is your High Destiny, Duncan and Mackenzie, to heal this world.”

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered.

“Holy shit,” he felt Kenzie grip his shirt with her little tear-stained hands. “Duncan, oh my goddess. We knew. We felt it all along. We felt our destiny.”

“And Praise be to Her,” Rosemary said, and then she laughed; she laughed long and low, and her voice was like honey, and it seemed to fall into Duncan’s mind like a crashing, heady wine. Her laugh rang out onto the lake, stirring the ducks to flight; as they flapped up from the water, the sun dappled in their water-flecked wings, turning to patterns of gold.

-------

It was late now, the light growing low as it had the night before, gradually then all at once, and Duncan had conjured another fire in the copper pit. This one, if anything, was even brighter and more beautiful than the one before; it was almost transparent, burning wildly high and hot, kindled in the euphoria of his mood. Now that he knew the powers they had were real, not only real, but destined, he felt confident in the ability to strengthen them; felt confident in their reality. I’ve been blessed, and so I’ll use my blessings. I can see the shape of these powers now, their outline like a lingering vision after a bright burst of light. I was destined to have them, and so I’ll use them as wisely as I can.

They had all smoked so much of the weed through the rest of the afternoon he had begun to feel untethered from his body, lost in the softness of Kenzie’s touch, the sweet smell of the space under her ear and along her neck. Rosemary didn’t seem to mind, skillfully ignoring them as they kissed again and again, drifted their hands along each other lazily through the rest of the afternoon. Duncan felt split between his gratitude towards Rosemary and the intensity of his desire for Kenzie--he had been fighting off the urge to slide his hand up her bare leg under the dress for hours, and as he sat in one of the wicker chairs by the fire, watching Kenzie and Rosemary dance a few paces away on the lawn amid the fireflies, the strains of Redbone’s Witch-queen of New Orleans pumping through the outdoor speakers, he sent out drifts of his deep need towards her. She was spinning in the long rosy dress, her chin tilted up and the diamond moon flashing on her neck, his black cardigan falling off one of her shoulders--her hair was tossed by wind and sweat glinted at her temples, and all he could think of was how radiantly lovely she was; High Princess of Heaven, Goddess of the Golden Bower, Angel of the Hidden Sphere, my High Destiny, forevermore, everlong, no worship is ever enough. And now you’re going to marry me. And I know what kind of ring I’m going to give you. A moonstone. My moon, everlasting.

She’ll put a spell on you, she’ll put a spell on you

He tried to contemplate the wonder of everything that had happened in the past two days; of the past few weeks. It’s truly only been a few weeks? It felt like years, and also like no time at all, like hours. He tried to contemplate the immensity of time they’d loved each other, and the smallness of the time they’d been able to love each other in this present--felt too lost in it, had to move his thoughts away. He tried to conjure up the image of the Fates in his mind, knowing now that it was Her, aspects of Her, the spectrum of Her face. Too stoned, sorry. Just wanna fuck my baby. So fucking much. Forgive me, Goddess. He grinned to himself, into his hand. I know you do. I can feel that you forgive me.

Tho' she'll never return all the Cajuns knew, a witch-queen never dies

Kenzie and Rosemary were gripping each other’s arms now, whirling in a circle, both laughing uproariously. Kenzie tumbled to the ground, throwing her head back and laughing up into the sky, bleeding out into blue darkness. Rosemary clutched her belly and laughed up at the sky too.

“Oh Goddess, to be alive,” she crowed. Duncan looked up to her from his seat, grinning. Rosemary had told them the story that afternoon of how she had found the Goddess when she was young--had gone into a cave in the swamps of New Orleans as a young girl, finding a bower of strange golden flowers growing there, had had a vision of Her, as an old woman, wizened with the ages and also inconceivable, told her of her power to conjure and to incite light in others, kindle their dreams and hopes, their destinies. Another Thin Place, he thought, like that balcony, or our circle of oaks. They had made more of the chicken and other vegetables in the cooker, a charcuterie spread out on the deck table, and had been nibbling at it for a hours between the weed and glasses of wine--now the day was hazy and drifting away, and Duncan felt lost in the happiness of it; absolutely found in it. Rosemary tumbled herself into one of the wicker chairs across from him, her feet dipping up over one of the arms. She gazed into the fire, a serene expression in her eyes.

“Evening Star, you sure can make one hell of a fire,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “It smells so sweet and feels so nice on my poor aching bones, thank you very much. The Goddess knows I put the work in since yesterday to find y’all, now she’s giving me a break, and Blessed Be.”

“Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming all this way--for telling us everything. Who we are. What we’re meant to do.” Kenzie had heaved herself up from the ground and was skipping over to him, throwing herself into his lap and lifting her mouth up to kiss him as he spoke. He cradled her little body against him; her eyes glittered, her thoughts achingly sweet. To be held by you, baby, is the sweetest and most beautiful of anything. My Evening Star. My Hades who I plucked from darkness. You owe me so many kisses.

Oh I do, do I-- He dipped his mouth down onto hers again; he could feel Rosemary’s eyes on them, slitted, an adoration and pride in her aspect that he could feel as though it were visible. He knew she thought they were infinitely beautiful--the thought was a feeling of warm violet that emanated out from her; and I agree, if only because being loved and loving her so much has made me beautiful from within, he thought. I can feel the beauty in everything because of her.

“Rosemary,” and Kenzie turned her face away, looking over at the other woman’s beautiful cocoa skin, shimmering like soft copper in the firelight.

“Yes, golden honey,” Rosemary murmured, turning her face up a little, her eyes closed from tiredness, peaceful in the quiet of the crackling fire.

“What do the thin places mean?”

“Thin places?” Rosemary’s eyes opened a little, meeting her eyes.

“In the woods there’s a clearing. It’s surrounded by these huge black oak trees, and they’re all growing together, in a weird, tight circle. Inside it are so many wildflowers,” Kenzie laid her head on Duncan’s chest, under his chin, “and they’re growing in a spiral, like, I dunno, like they mean something, time or the universe, something like that. We were there yesterday, and…”

Kenzie blushed, trailing off.

“You fucked there.”

“Yeah. And it was strange--I mean, it felt like--Dunny, how would you describe it--”

“Like we were untethered from the earth for a little while,” Duncan said, his hand drifting against Kenzie’s thigh, under her breast, holding her against him, gazing into the fire. “Like we were in some kind of between place. Between this world and another one.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose the Thin Places, as you say, have many names. I call them The Veil, because they aren’t really places as much as doorways, gateways, the between of one place and another. The Goddess has tethered every universe together with threads--energy that passes from one place to another, acting as a bridge--and sometimes the threads wear thin; I suppose Thin Place is a well-suited name. As you are so close to your divinity still, these places are more obvious to you than to other people.”

“The night we met, we were on this balcony, with all these roses, and I think it was one of those places,” Kenzie was murmuring, eyes glittering on him, close to tears again. “It was thin--I could see him, Rosemary. I could see into his soul. I knew how beautiful he was inside. It was like a lamp shining out of a lighthouse. He said hi and he was looking at me like he knew me, like he hadn’t seen me in a long time and had missed me. And my heart just--stopped. I felt like he had set me on fire, wonderful fire, like this.” She looked at the fire Duncan had made--made with my mind, my senses, my will, for you. His heart twinged, reached out for her.

“The heart knows what nothing else can tell you,” Rosemary murmured, her voice growing soft again in her sleepiness. “It was only a matter of time before you found each other again.”

“Sometimes I think I see a golden thread between us,” Duncan said softly.

“The Goddess has tethered you this way. Since you are so close to her--because she loves you both so dearly--you can see the innerworkings of her magicks sometimes. They are not conceivable to human eyes. You’re feeling them. For all her works speak to the inner self, the hidden senses.”

“Rosemary,” Kenzie started again, and then Duncan heard the tears in her voice, cutting her words off. Her face turned into the crook of his arm--he felt her cheek shuddering there.

“Shh, Kenz, it’s okay, Kenzie,” he whispered into her. She nodded.

“Rosemary, thank you.”

But Rosemary didn’t reply--she was sleeping softly now, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hand dipped under her jaw. She was magnificently beautiful in the glossy sheen of the firelight, her dark skin illuminated, her sunset-colored scarf glowing, her obsidian and quartz stones shimmering, feet bare now, and grass-stained; she looks like a painting, Duncan thought, oh that Waterhouse had painted her, Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, who has given us so much joy in so little time. Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you. Now, we’ll let you sleep. I only hope I can give you something in return--and soon. You and everyone who has surrounded us, helped us, comforted us, shielded us.

“Princess Kenzie, let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. Kenzie’s eyes turned up to him, her mouth dipping open. Her hair fell down behind his arm, a sheet of gold. He felt wildly awake; acutely aware of the softness and the scent of her. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I want you so much. Take a bath with me, angel. Please?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, a laugh playing at her mouth. “Okay, but I wanna read stories to each other after we fuck. You have to promise we can read stories after.”

“We can read stories for as long as you want, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“What should we do, baby--about everything? We already know what’s going to happen. Rosemary told us. When we go back--”

“Shhh,” and he pressed his mouth, shivering, aching, against hers, intent to worship her, pulling her chin up insistently to reach her, his hands falling against the sweet softness of the dress over her breast. “Tonight, let’s just think about how divine we are, and how lucky we are, and how beautiful the night is, and how beautiful everything is, the stars, the lake, and you--” and she was nodding into him, climbing up to straddle him, the firelight licking its shadows against her hair, over her skin. “And you, baby,” she whispered. “My Evening Star. Goddess, I love that--”

“I’m gonna find you the most beautiful garden house on earth, Princess Kenzie,” he was whispering into her throat, his tongue licking out to the sweet saltiness of her sun-kissed sweat there, and he knew he meant it, knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it, “and together we’re gonna plant the most beautiful garden and so many flowers you can use them for a bed, and I’ll get you as many horses as you want, and I’ll read to you every night, kiss you a thousand times every day in our bed of a hundred of the softest blankets on earth, Kenzie, my golden goddess--”

“I want so many flowers for our wedding, baby,” she was murmuring against his mouth, the supple feeling of her skin driving unbearable waves of heat into his cock now. “I want a hundred dark red roses to hang over our bed between all the wildflowers, flowers in our hair, please, baby, please?”

“Fuck, baby, a thousand flowers, as many as your heart desires, I love you, anything you want, my flower of the universe, my Princess of the Garden of All Delights--fuck, baby, I wanna see it, I wanna see that garden in heaven, where we used to love each other, for eons, Rosemary said, eons--”

Kenzie was laughing against the tickle of his mouth as he groaned into her, standing and gripping her to him under her thighs, his hands finally (fuck, finally, no offense Rosemary) on her bare skin there under the long dress. Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her up to the deck, eagerly turning his chin up to her where her face hovered above him, needy for her kisses.

“I never wanna leave,” Kenzie whispered into him, and he shuddered, pulling her closer, so close the pattering of her heartbeat was flush against his chest, her hair falling against his cheeks. “I wanna run away into the woods with you, into our secret circle of oaks, baby, let’s just stay here and fuck in the field and in the trees and throw away our clothes and worship the Goddess under the starlight until the world ends--”

“But She has shit for us to do, angel, we gotta save the world--” and he was laughing against her as he stumbled with her near the stairs. Kenzie slipped out of his arms (how does she do that) and ran up the stairs away from him before he could grab her wrist--”we gotta save the world, Miss Stone--”

The weed was sweet inside him still, and he thought, The Fates are the Goddess and the Goddess is the Fates, and even if I have darkness in me, so does everything, so does everyone--I know I’ve chosen the light now, and that’s all that matters, I know it was my choice all along--I’ve found my sweet Kenzie, and nothing can fucking hurt me, nothing, nothing can fuck with us, baby--I can’t wait to kiss you with a thousand roses around us and the evening light and the sweet sound of music, slip your moonstone on your little finger and kiss your sweet hands with the tattoo of all my love--

He ran through the bedroom, seeing the little slip of her shoulder, the wave of her hair, the flick of the hem of her long linen dress disappearing through the bathroom door. Kenzie slammed it behind her and he heard the lock click into place. He fell against it, groaning, jiggling the handle to no avail.

“Baby, fuck, ughhh, lemme in, please.”

He could hear her giggling, hear the copper tub’s faucet turn on, its sweet low drift and the sound of her little movements, her tiny laughter kindling a needle of heat into his groin. My angel of heaven. Have mercy.

“I just realized something, Kenzie.”

She fell silent behind the door, as if pausing--for a little while he only heard the faucet running. The bedroom was bathed in low, golden light, and his eyes fell on Cupid’s flower crown in the painting, the tenderness with which he kissed Psyche’s cheek.

“I’ve loved you for thousands of years.”

There was another long pause. He pressed his head against the door, closed his eyes. I have, haven’t I. I really have, When I saw you on the balcony that night, I felt the immensity of time. I knew that it had always been you.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled through it; Kenzie was throwing her arms around him, making him stumble further, against her this time (oh thank Goddess), and then she was pressing him harshly into the bathroom wall, her hands insistent, demanding. He was leaning down to her, trying to wrap his arms around her, but she pressed them down, her hand drifting to his jaw, clenching there.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you assassinate someone for me?” She laughed at this, her words hovering between facetiousness and seriousness, and her smile melted at his heart, made him desperate for her.

“If I had to, yes.” Duncan’s answer was serious, and they both knew it; he stared at her, his eyes unwavering, and saw her lips fall from the smile, saw that she could see the ache of him, insatiable, unending, for her.

“Look at the bruises you left on me.”

Kenzie lifted the linen dress up over her head, edging out of his reach as he tried to grip her. He realized she was naked underneath it and heard the tiny reverberation of his moan, following after her. She turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Duncan groaned to see the dark bruises he’d left on her asscheeks, the product of his own hands. He kneeled, aching regret pressing on him, and cupped her at the top of her thighs, drifting his mouth down to the bruises, whispering against her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I love you so much--”

“I love them,” she whispered. “I love the marks you leave on me. I asked for them and I love them and I want more. I don’t care how long we’ve been together in the past, it still only feels like it’s been a few weeks now and I want more. The marks from your hands and your lips, your attention, your love--I want more, more, more--” Kenzie was leaning back into his hands now, against the wet, open dip of his mouth, her hair brushing along his head. She turned and his face hovered right over her cunt--Duncan dragged her against him, opening his lips further, cupping them into the lips of her sex, turning her hips under his hands and pressing her into the wall. Kenzie’s arms drifted above her, up the wall’s incline, hands reaching heavenward, her back arching, leaning into him; Duncan pulled her thigh up so her knee rested against his shoulder, and held his tongue to her shivering clit, eliciting a long, drifting moan from her mouth turned upward.

The scent of her was rich with summery sweat and the salty gathering of her arousal, and it made Duncan feel as though he were drifting out into some ether, unchained from the earth, as if they were back in the black oak circle, between worlds.

“Baby,” she was humming, “how are we gonna know what to do? To change the world? What are we supposed to do with the company? Like--how--unnnh--” her words bled out as he drifted his tongue back and forth between her clit and the opening of her cunt, urgent and concentrated. No more worrying tonight, Kenzie, just be here with me, let me worship you…

“Mmhmm, baby, uhhuh,” she whined, and he knew she’d heard him, felt the bluish drift of his comforting thought. I’ve missed tasting your sweetness here, angel, I wanna build an altar to your sweet cunt alone, its secret places, curves, hidden clefts, the rich singularity of its scent. I’m gonna eat you out every fucking day for the rest of our lives. He pulled his tongue back, pressing his lips around her clit, sucking carefully, strongly, looking up with languid patience to the shadow over her face as her head fell down, her hands drifting from where they had stretched along the wall to his cheeks, his forehead, the curves of his eyelids, through the sides of his hair, and Duncan had to close them now, for fear he would die inside her eyes--that his heart would simply stop with the glorious weight of her (you Kenzie you my universe and I turn around you, I am your moon spinning around your earth, and when we end we begin again, when we die, we are reborn to each other--).

“Fuck, Duncan,” and Kenzie was biting into her lip, eyes falling closed, her body smooth and hot and terribly soft under his long hands, the wetness at his mouth an insistent undoing, the telltale trembling beginning in her thighs, “I think I’m gonna come already, sorry, baby, I can’t, god, that feels so fucking good, you’re too beautiful, annhh--” and he was shaking his head, rebounding his tongue against her, hands clutching at the bruises along her ass, fingers digging against them so she gasped in the half-patina of pleasure and pain--come for me, come as soon as you want to, as much as you want, as constant, for I will worship you always and my devotion will not end, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven, yours is the one true beauty, the gold that you hold in the center of your soul--then, with a pilling satisfaction that urged heat into his groin, he heard the high, lilting sound of her voice crying up in her ecstasy (“Dunny, fu-u-uck-k, my Pri-ince, Evening Star, my fucking baby, unnnnh--”), the sound of the water filling the copper tub crashing against her and drowning out her drawn whimpers, and he thought of Sirens, singing on rocks in the sea, mesmerizing to sailors, causing them to plunge to the depths with desire. My Kenzie, sing to me. Sing your pleasure out for my ears alone.

She quieted, her breath heaving, her legs shaking against him, her cunt twinging--he pressed another long, adoring lick between the lips, shivering with wetness from his mouth and her deep orgasm, then he stood, her hands drifting from his hair to his shoulders to his stomach, his height enveloping her, as it ever was. He brought his arms down around her and Kenzie began to work at his shirt, pushing his pants and briefs to the floor, his mouth, damp with her sex, tasting at hers with lazy need. He lowered his arms, reluctantly, letting his shirt drop to the floor, then swung them down around her shoulders and the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms. Duncan carried her to the copper tub, the steaming water within almost having reached the rim--he lowered her into it and Kenzie sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed in an expression of deep, contented loveliness.

Duncan lifted away from her, turning off the faucet, balancing on the edge of it for a moment, naked; Kenzie’s hair had immediately begun to drift around her, and he thought again of Sirens in the sea, calling out to Odysseus.

“You look like a mermaid, Kenz,” he said, smiling down at her. She grinned, dipping her face under the water, blowing bubbles up to the surface, eyeing him coyly.

“Come, come to me, come to the sea and be drowned, wah-haha,” she laughed.

“By you, gladly.” Duncan stepped over the rim and settled down into the serenely hot water. The tub was quite large--larger than the claw-footed one in the penthouse, large enough that he could stretch his legs out entirely and crook them around her, drawing her into him, his cock, hardening, straining, brushing against the inside of her leg and stomach. She shivered and he moved his mouth down to her cheek, her jaw, pressing tiny kisses there.

“Remember when you put all those roses in the bathtub, baby,” Kenzie was whispering, lifting herself up to him, her nose nuzzling against his. The water felt almost unbearably warm now with her against him this way, and Duncan wanted to cry out against her hair, on her bare, flushed, damp skin. I fucking love you, my love is ever-hungry, ever-urgent, as if it wants to tear me into pieces so I can feed myself to you.

“How could I ever forget that,” he whispered. “You were so fucking beautiful that night. That dress, the half-moon around your neck. I think that’s the first time I knew--really knew--that you were divine.”

“I’m gonna ride you again like that now,” she murmured against his chin, her eyes glowing, and her little slender hand was grasping his cock, now terribly hard in her fingers, easing up and down its thickness with her hips under his fingers, her little tongue dipping out along his lower lip--Kenzie eased herself down onto him, a shuddering, high gasp falling out of her mouth into his, and he cried against her, the pitiful need in his voice ringing in his ears. She moved, slowly at first, then more pressingly, her hands coming up to dampen his hair with water that fell through it in a glistening trail.

“It feels like we woke up from another dream today,” she was whimpering into him, and Duncan was kissing her neck, his mouth tingling with her, lost in the tightness, the clenching, devouring space of her cunt around him, the water’s steam rising around them in droves. “Now we know, baby.”

“That you saved me--” he whined into the dip of her throat now, his voice shuddering as his orgasm inched closer, through his thighs and his groin. “You saved me, angel, you saved my soul from darkness here--that you save me, over and over--you are my miracle, fuck, Kenzie--”

“I am, aren’t I--” she laughed against him, then her laugh bled into a moan as she ground down onto him in the glorious heat of the water, her little hands drifting along his neck, through his curls, her head falling back, and his mouth was around her nipple, sucking with deep hunger, his heart already breaking for the moment he’d have to stop--then he felt himself, eyes blurring with heat and tears, his voice crying wordlessly to heaven (thank you Fates, who are Her), coming harshly up into the golden space of her, the depth of her, the absence of void--she was fullness, truth, reality, the essence of life, she was the beginning and end of all, the solace of his existence. My angel, my miracle, my savior, my Kenzie, for all time.

And for awhile after, they held each other in the blessed quiet and the wonderful heat of the water and the soothing feeling of one another, and he kissed the tiny tears from her eyes, and everything in all of that stretch of moments, small, brief, and somehow also infinite, was sublime.

-------

Kenzie was laying with her face towards the ceiling in the center of the golden bed, the delicate, hanging golden lamp there bowing down on her, kissing at the waves of her chestnut hair. She wore the little silken pink pyjamas and the silk black kimono, gifts from me, I want to shower you with gifts for the rest of our lives, my delight, my sweet love, and one of the downy pillows was propped under her head as she held D’aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths up to her face with her little hands. The other books were in a pile beside her on the silky spread; the ghost story books, Jane Eyre, The Golden Compass and the stargazing book from Duncan’s penthouse library. Duncan was propped up with a pillow on the headboard, facing her, wearing just a pair of black briefs, one of her tiny feet in his large hand; he rubbed it carefully, tenderly, fingers drifting back and forth along its graceful curve, over the rise of her little bones, eyes on her face as she read. The curtain was floating against the wall, and Duncan could smell the fire from the pit downstairs rising up. He wondered if he should go wake Rosemary so she could sleep in one of the guest rooms, but was loathe to move away from the bed, out of Kenzie’s warm sphere. In a little while, he thought. The night is warm and beautiful, besides, as beautiful as last night. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.

“I just love this picture so much,” Kenzie whispered, turning the book to him. The picture was the one of Persephone and Demeter rushing into each other’s arms in a golden field of flowers. “It really makes me think of me and Momby. She’s going to be so happy when we tell her. I keep imagining her face when you call her Momby,” and Kenzie’s grin clenched at his heart.

She turned the book back to herself, resting its edge on her belly, flipping through the pages. Duncan could hear the peepers out on the lake, the drift of the water obscured by them, the low crackle of the fire pit below. Kenzie stopped on a certain page, gazing at it intently, her little mouth pouting, eyes concentrated.

“What’s that page, baby,” Duncan murmured, switching to her other foot, kneading at her toes.

“Selene and Endymion,” she murmured.

“Read it to me?” he asked. I love your voice in the soft night. Singing, speaking, breathing sighs, the gasp of you when you come, the little crying sounds in your sleep.

Kenzie smiled, eyes whirling dark green at him, cleared her throat a little, and read in a clear, measured voice. Journalism major, he thought, brimming with happiness so full it was like a golden cup running over through his body.

“Selene, the moon, came out at night to light up the sky while her brother, Helios, was resting. Slowly she drove her milk-white horses across the sky, and her pale moonbeams fell gently on the sleeping earth where all was peace and quiet.”

Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like to meet Kenzie for the first time--not on the balcony, he thought, but in that other place, the real first time, after I saw her on her throne, like that dream we had, the throne where she held the sceptre--the Hidden Sphere, the one Rosemary talked about. We met in the Garden, Rosemary said, the Garden of All Delights. Kenzie’s hair, white and shimmering, was full of galaxy-flowers. Her eyes were a golden universe. And her wings were like the vastness of heaven in an unbroken sunset.

“One night Selene’s soft light fell on Endymion, a young shepherd, who was sleeping beside his flock. She stopped to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep and was so young and handsome that she completely lost her heart to him,” and here Kenzie glanced up at Duncan, her face cast in a soft corona of light, her eyes held in the aureate bow of her lashes, and he felt her thought--that’s how I felt when I saw your smile, baby. “She drove through the night, but she could not get him out of her mind.”

Duncan was sliding down over the coverlet to her, his hands drifting up her thighs. Oh you did, did you. She smiled at him nervously, then her eyes fell back to the page and she read again.

“When her duties were over, she went to Zeus and asked him to grant Endymion eternal sleep so he would stay forever young and handsome...Zeus granted Selene’s wish and Endymion slept on and on, smiling in his sleep. He dreamed that he held the moon in his arms. But it was not a dream after all…”

Duncan was pulling her up to him, into his mouth, easily lifting her small weight against him, and the book fell from her fingers to the soft spread and her hair fell back, her eyes fluttering closed against him, the silken feeling of her all too much, and Duncan thought of her as the moon shining against him; as the goddess she once was, of what had felt like a dream, had seemed to be one in the nimbus of sleep, but hadn’t been, her, so wondrously, soul-shakingly real now, in his arms--

No, no. Not a dream after all.

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