Reckless (July Summer of Smut Oneshot)
A/N: Hello again, and welcome to part 2 of Summer of Smut! On behalf of @missclairebelle, @desperationandgin and I, thank you again for the incredible outpouring of love and support last month. We can’t wait to smut up your dashes again this weekend!
A reminder: our theme this month is SEX IN A PUBLIC PLACE.
Please note…this one definitely earns an explicit rating for strong sexual content below the cut.
Enjoy, my greedy wee friends!
“Oh God,” Claire choked as the ferris wheel lurched, and her stomach with it. The Pepto-Bismol pink carriage in which they were seated tipped and rocked precariously, and she braced a sweaty palm against the siding. “We’re going to die.”
Jamie barked out a laugh, draping a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Ye’ve been sayin’ that all evening, Sassenach, and we’re no’ dead yet.”
She shot him a look. “The night is young.”
Blue eyes rolled skyward, but Jamie’s smirk didn’t waver. Squeezing his wife’s upper arm, he reminded her, “This is supposed to be fun, aye? Whee! Fun! Remember fun?”
“Mm… no.” Claire squinted, pursing her lips. “No, not ringing any bells.” She let out a yelp as the ferris wheel ground to a sudden halt, pitching their carriage into a violent swinging motion again. “Jesus H. Bloody Christ!”
Her husband threw his head back and laughed at her outright. “Ye’re fine.”
“Famous last words,” she ground out through clenched teeth, peering nervously over the edge of the carriage to the weed-choked pavement thirty feet below. “Do you know how many people die on these things? They’re bloody death traps!”
Jamie reached out to take her chin in the crook of his finger, drawing her face up to look at him. He brushed his lips over hers once, smiled, then repeated it a second time — lingering and tender, as though he might infuse some measure of calm into her through his kiss. “D’ye honestly think I’d let ye set foot on this ride if I thought any harm would come to ye?”
Claire’s gaze softened, though she maintained the stubborn set of her chin. “No,” she admitted. “But given your level of risk perception, I’m not sure that’s saying much.”
“Are ye sayin’ I’m reckless, then?” he asked, his eyes glinting with a subtle undercurrent of mischief.
It was a dare; one Claire had no idea whether or not to accept.
She narrowed her eyes, smiling at him inquisitively.
Jamie tipped his chin up at her, his own smile deepening until dimples cut into his cheeks.
“I… suppose one might say that about you, yes…” she agreed quietly, dropping her lashes as she leaned into him. By his posturing alone, Claire thought she had a fairly good idea of what sort of recklessness her husband had in mind. She fully anticipated a hot and heavy makeout session, wherein his greedy hands would slip beneath her ribbed tank top, fondle and tease her over the lace of her bra, until she was forced to smack him breathlessly away and remind him that they were in public.
… She woefully underestimated him.
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