OK guys, first of all, this is NOT what I wrote for this week’s prompt! I will post the original ficlet sometime later today.
This is an idea that came to me, wrote itself down and it is now on your dash.
Whoops.
This is a crack fic (definitely crack, because I have to be on drugs to think of this), NSFW although I wrote it during a break at work and since today is the first day of March, I can blame Murtagh for what you’re going to read (thank you @scotsmanandsassenach)!!
So... here it is.
Frank got of me and lay at his side of our double bed, on the sheets he meticulously tacked beneath the mattress five minutes ago.
Fortunately, this bed was wide enough that we didn’t have to touch.
I heard him sigh, and then he rose to sit at the edge on the bed, his face hidden in his palms.
“You can’t dwell on it, Frank.” I said, but there was no real affection in my tone. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t the first time this happened. But I would offer any consolation I could. “It could happen to everybody.”
That was such a cliché.
This doesn’t happen to everybody. I knew a particular red-headed Scot that never experienced such problems in bed. Quite the opposite, if I wanted to be honest. In bed, on a horse, at a moor, on a hill. This list could go on forever... We were lucky that his kilt could hide much more than an erection – even Jamie’s erection, that is. The advantages of the 18th hundred century Scotland… Plus, the kilt being no obstacle or whatsoever to my intentions…
The moment I opened my eyes I saw Frank hovering over me.
“You’re thinking of him, again?” Frank looked at me, incredulous. Damn my glass face!
“What? What are you talking about?” Best to play dumb and try to shoo the image of the fiery Scot from my mind. Well, that was a hard task indeed.
“It’s all your fault you know. This… This-” he pointed at his offended member as if I hadn’t realized to what he referred to “This is because of you. It’s all your fault.”
“My fault? My fault?” I repeated, my turn to be incredulous now.
“Yes, your fault! I am above you, trying, and you keep closing your eyes, Claire! You are never here! Truly here!”
“Of course I’m here!” Of course I’m not, you bastard, but what am I supposed to say right now. “It’s not easy for me, Frank.” I continued, honestly now. I knew that I kept looking at Frank searching for Jamie’s blue eyes, full of love and mischief. I kept thinking that Frank’s shoulders were too narrow, that he was shorter than I’d like, that he was not enough… generally. Ahem.
“I don’t care, Claire! You think that’s easy for me? Your hands are on me, but I can see the thirst in your touch not being quenched. You crave for a touch on your body, but that’s not mine. The cock you dream is not mine.”
“Certainly not yours right now.”
“Fuck you, Claire.”
“I’m trying, Frank.”
He left the room, banging the door with all his might.
Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. Aka Dendroaspis polylepis. Yes, that last line was quite venomous.
But Frank was right. That was a fuck. Even if we got to do it, that would be just a fuck.
I missed making love.
I missed Jamie’s breath on my nipples. I missed grabbing his ass and feeling each of his thrusts. I missed feeling his locks between my fingers, feeling his lips warm and hungry on mine. I missed being whole and happy with him, hard, inside me. I missed taking him with me to oblivion.
