Chapter Text
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…”
Her back was sore, but only with a fraction of the pain her head was pounding with. The light of the newborn day trespassed the windows uninvited, piercing her eyelids and turning her sight from oblivious black to annoying red. Underneath her, the warmness of a blanket kept her naked body from freezing on the floor. Clearly not the best bed to avoid spending the rest of the day with a battered spine. Her right hand had crept all the way up to her eyes, scrubbing them from the much needed sleep that still harassed them. But as reality settled back in her bones, a weird feeling began to conquer the rest of her body. Something glossy, extremely soft lay under her left hand, resting in turn on top of her belly and around her hips. Tentatively, she opened one amber eye, squinting under the acute brightness.
“Bloody hell…”
A gorgeous mass of coppery curls attached to an even more gorgeous naked body slept pleasantly, his breath raising goosebumps on the skin around her navel. Slowly, she began the audacious task of extricating herself from that tangle of limbs, skin and plaited wool that had become her bed for the night. After a couple of attempts, the efforts proved themselves useless. There was no way to stand up without that head thumping against the floor. So she opted for the quickest, more embarrassing but also most effective determination.
Rip off the bandaid, Beauchamp.
With a swift impulse, Claire stood up and pulled the blanket along with her, trying to cover up her nakedness. Inevitably, a loud thud and a curse followed as well, a hoarse, raspy voice revealing itself.
“A Dhia…”
“Sorry…” She apologized half-heartedly covering up in the blanket and trying not to stare at the magnificent body that was awakening in front of her. Cautiously, she positioned herself behind the couch. “I just… I really need to go to work, so…“
The redheaded man laid on his back, rubbing his face, and sighed before looking at her. His deep blue eyes were reddened as he began to stand up, looking for his clothes.
“I’m gonna take a shower and, well, since you’ll be gone already, just… Well, thanks for last night…”
Fuck.
“Jamie,” he informed her while getting into his jeans and buttoning them up.
“Jamie, of course. Well, have a nice day.“
Have a nice day? Seriously?
“Ye dinnae want to—”
“No, no, I think we, well, just… No. Bye!“
A smirk from his generous lips escorted her upstairs, as she closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it huffing. Wild hair, black eyeliner smeared, bruised lips and… Jesus, is that a hickey? The image the mirror returned to her instantly flashed in the most shameless fashion all the indulgences last night had provided.
Whiskey. In shots and in the depths of his mouth. Two inquisitive hands sailing the waves of her curves. The most limpid, clear blue eyes, scrutinizing her pleasure. His curls between her legs. His lips exploring the secrets of her flesh. His tongue tasting her navel. His desire matching hers, entering her body and jolting every cell in it.
“Ye come here a lot?”
An arched eyebrow and a slightly sardonic smile.
“That line ever works for you?”
A low, rich cackle.
“I’m just a lad in a bar…”
“…Claire.”
“Claire. Jamie.”
The electricity of his handshake, lingering for an extra second more than necessary. His warmth, traveling from his skin into hers. His gaze, reading her like a book from under those half blonde, half coppery eyelashes. The sleekness of his curls between her fingers, grabbing him towards her hungry lips, devouring his without mercy, moaning into his mouth.
Claire shook her head and darted to the shower. First day, new job and about to be late. The water was still cold when she stood under the stream, making her teeth clatter but also clearing her mind. Last night was too dim for her to remember it all, especially after the fourth shot. And there was no time to wobble about the details. Another one night stand. The first since she had arrived to Edinburgh. Probably not the last, but didn’t have to mean anything more than the others before.
With her locks dripping and no time to properly tend to them, she tucked them into a bun on top of her head, dressed with half her body still wet and run out of the bedroom. On the way to the front door, a quick look sideways revealed the emptiness of the living room, only her clothes scattered on the floor as witness of the previous events. A sigh of relief as she grabbed her mug of coffee for a much needed sip and a quiet bang when the door closed behind her ushered her out of her dead parents house.
Claire held the wheel tightly as she approached the entrance to the military facility. After showing her credentials at the gate, the soldier guarding it lifted the barrier and saluted her. She nodded, a bit intimidated by the treatment, and drove to the parking lot. Her friend Geillis had just parked and was gathering her stuff off the trunk of her car when Claire parked beside her.
“Bein’ late yer first day in a job is not the best way to make an impression, ye ken?” She teased walking in a fast pace that forced Claire to run up to her, cursing under her breath.
“You could just wait for a sec—”
“Oh my goodness. Tell me that’s not a hickey.” Geillis pulled the scarf that discreetly covered Claire’s neck, until she smacked her hand off and strategically repositioned it, blushing all the way to her hairline. “So ye did get laid last night, didn’t ye? I thought ye were giving me the cold shoulder.”
“What are you, fifteen? For Christ’s sake, Geillis.”
Her friend laughed wholeheartedly and patted her back.
“I’m not, but I actually thought you weren’t either,” she retorted pointing to her neck.
After showing their credentials again, they entered an ample bustling with activity on their way to the elevator. Geillis pushed the button and waited, tapping her heel with a Cheshire cat smile in her lips. The pilot light signaled the doors about to be opened, and both women walked up to them.
“And how was it?“
Claire sighed as the doors began to slide. “It was the best sex I’ve had in ages. And I can’t remember half of—.”
A lopsided grin, crowned by a disarrayed mass of red curls and two shattering blue eyes welcomed her sight, leaning against the back of the elevator, and she had to contain the urge of running in the opposite direction.
“Good morning, ladies. Comin’ up?”