chimbleysweep: (Adage.)
[personal profile] chimbleysweep posting in [community profile] lavenderdiary




3 APRIL, 1984


Claire had turned out to be surprisingly domestic when she applied herself! Granted, Mum had helped her out and there had been a cook as a secondary reinforcement, but she had done remarkably well without both and the very large chocolate cake with very unevenly frosted icing looked wonderful! There had even been an extra moment before Jack got home from work that gave her time to gently stencil flowers on top.

It was the perfect anniversary cake, really, and the first one, at that! Claire couldn’t help it—she wanted to see Jack’s reaction when she brought it to him (she had practiced twice to assure that she wasn’t going to drop it down her dress front and ruin everything, floor, shoes, anniversary and all).

It was no wonder that Jack thought of marriage when he saw the cake. Here was Claire, dressed nicely to make up for their not going out, bringing him and making him food? It was like they were married already, and he liked it.

"Hi," he said, kissing her at the door and eyeing the cake. It was even his favourite kind. "Wow."

“Hi! I thought we could have cake for supper,” she said. “Mum said we could. And it’s sunny and I wouldn’t want to waste it! How’s your arm? You weren’t terribly bored today, were you?”

"A little." It was awful being stuck behind a desk, but Jack didn't want to take any time off. He didn't want to always have to rely on Charlie paying for Claire's way in the world. It didn't work like that. He sat down just where he was and patted his knee for Claire.

Claire set a slice of cake on a plate and perched delicately on Jack’s knee. “I’m sorry. Your arm will heal soon! And then it will be stronger than ever.” She gently offered him some cake, holding the fork near his mouth.

He took it, scraping teeth on the fork, even though she'd probably lecture him on dental health. "It's good!" he announced, rubbing Claire's knee.

“Oh, good,” Claire said, sounding relieved as she took a much smaller bite for herself. “I tried my best! I know you like chocolate.”

She watched him for a moment, focusing on his strong profile. There was still a scar from the car accident on his skin, and she leaned forward and kissed it gently, letting her lips linger for another moment. “I love you.”

"I love you too!" he said, looking up at her just a little (because she was sitting on him, not because she was taller). "I like the dress."

“Oh, thank you!” she said, looking down at it. “I thought maybe it wasn’t cut right but I like the blue layer underneath.”

She took another tiny bite of cake and kissed his cheek immediately after, leaving chocolate behind on his skin.

(And she was taller whether she was sitting on his knee or not.)

“Are you feeling okay?”

"Great." He watched her for a moment, work tension leaving his shoulders and neck. "Hi." He reached for her face, stroking her cheek gently. "I love you. A lot."

Claire smiled. “I know,” she said, watching him again. The way he looked at her made her heart jump and flutter and it was almost too intense to stand sometimes. Like she wasn’t quite grown up enough to fit all of the love inside her just yet. She touched his cheek, gently. Her fingers were clean and pale and slim against his tan and work-roughened skin. She loved that, too.

In fact, the more she looked at him, the more she stared at him and saw his eyes, that odd shade of gold that no one in her family could even achieve, the more undone her seams became.

She kissed him gently, trying to calm herself down, and smeared more cake across Jack’s other cheek.

Jack laughed and touched Claire's neck, cupping it until he could feel her pulse go. "Don't do that yet," he said, reaching for the cake and wiping it away. "Not yet!"

“What yet?” Claire asked, giggling and setting the plate down before she did something dangerous with it.

"That's later," he said again, not feeling like using words to expand. Or, words. Instead he kissed her.

A second into the kiss, Claire realized what he meant and instantly blushed. She also instantly kissed him a little deeper, grateful to have free hands for use in cupping Jack’s face (it was fun to kiss him from higher above).

“You’re so funny,” she murmured, her heart doing its little dances in her chest. She watched his eyes again, his eyelashes, the way they made him look so much softer, and kissed him once more.

"I am," he agreed," stroking her belly through the dress. "I love you though."

She touched his cast gently, giving it a pat. “I know.” She grinned brightly. “I like that you do. I like that it’s me.”

"Who else?" Jack paused romantic time to eat some more cake. "I'm done with that."

“I know,” Claire said, watching him eat and leaning her head on his shoulder. When a forkful was just about to become not full, she leaned over and took the bite herself.

Jack bit the fork and, after staring around in shock, looked at Claire. He didn't know she ate cake! Let alone his. He laughed instead of reacting further, pulling Claire by the back of her neck in for a proper snog.

Proper snogs were her favorite. But every time they shared one, it sent her into a bit of a tailspin. A lot of a tailspin. She curled her fingers into his shirt and held on, drawing the kiss out, then pressing back in again.

He made a little noise and let his casted arm rest awkwardly at his side in favor of opening his mouth just a little bit wider.

Claire matched it, their kisses far from automatic but familiar, perfect. She could taste icing and Jack and, yes, there was some smoke but it was always there. It was just Jack. She gently slid her tongue against his, forgetting that anyone could see them. He made her do that. Forget. It was Claire’s turn to make a little noise.

Jack bit Claire's lip, pulling it out just a bit. "Let's go inside," he suggested, moving his plate aside.

Claire nodded, eyes somewhat wide. She has having thoughts that she couldn’t quite stop and no longer wanted to. How much longer could she wait? How much longer could she make Jack wait? She picked up the plate and stood up, kissing the top of Jack’s head and catching his eye with a slightly different look than she’d ever given him before.

Jack paused and then hurried after Claire like his ass was on fire. He knew that look. But it didn't seem safe to talk outside of her room. So he took her wrist and tried to tug it over there.

Claire laughed and tugged him to the kitchen to put away the plates. Then she kissed his cheek and let him tug her upstairs. He seemed rather eager and she rather hoped she wasn’t already in over her head.

Jack pulled them back into her bedroom, kissing her again. He might be getting touches. They'd have to make a whole other cake to celebrate.

Giggling nervously, Claire broke the kiss only once before letting it sweep her up and letting Jack sweep her up. She moaned softly, blushing faintly again, and held his shirt tighter, keeping him close enough to feel his body heat through her dress. But that heat made her anxious and she pulled back again.

“Jack, um…”

"Um?" he said, eager but not wanting to get his hopes up too much. He touched her waist, watching her carefully. "What um what."

Rather than embarrass herself so soon, she leaned forward and kissed him again, harder than before, harder than usual, pulling his shirt so that his body pressed her back against the door.

Jack fumbled behind her with the wrong hand and locked the door. "Are you okay?" he asked, not wanting to let anything go that could explode later.

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again but stopping just against his mouth. “I mean—Jack. I want—um.”

"What?" Rather than making a big deal out of anything, he tugged her to the bed. "Really?" Last time he hadn't agreed. This time..."You're sure?"

Claire nodded. “Yeah,” she murmured, looking at him, “I am.”

He smiled and touched her face. "Okay." With that he took her face in his hands again, kissing her gently.

So this was it, then. Claire’s heart was racing as though she was pressed naked against him already. Racing as though the kiss was something so much more than just a kiss.

The kiss itself didn’t last as a simple one. They fell into familiar rhythms, Jack crawling gently over her body as she rested back against her ruffled pillows, hair in a braid and caught against her back. She was too distracted to be annoyed by the tickle of ribbon against her arm. Too distracted by Jack’s tongue as she met it with her own, kissing him deeply, snogging him harder, until her toes tingled.

Jack bit her neck, kissing against her racing pulse gently, as if to calm. But in reality it was to draw it out, make it skip and jump and drive that pink color to her chest and cheeks and everywhere he liked it best. She looked almost porcelain, painted just for him and so fragile…

Claire’s arched body startled him and he rode it out, grinding against her almost without thought. She moaned, wrapping a leg around him as if this wasn’t a prelude, as if this was the feature presentation. Not a final act.

He marked her, his lips soft and wet and drawing a darker shade of pink out of her. Then it was all kissing, bruising kisses as their hips collided sloppily, erratic, both of Claire’s long legs around him now, letting her dress pool around her hips while something quite different pooled against her knickers.

And she moaned. It was so soft she hardly realized she had made a noise until she felt a grin against her lips. She grabbed his shirt and kept him too close to pull away and they kissed harder.

That’s when his hands slid up, gently, under her dress, which was already sliding up her body on its own. He rested his palms against her belly, stroking softly and kissing softer. Something close to reality had set in.

Jack gently pressed his hand to her heart. It was racing so that every undulation, every flutter pressed hard against her chest and he could feel it all. And he was the reason for it. The reason that her heart was beating.

“You’re sure?”

Claire nodded. “Yeah.”

Jack pulled his shirt off, struggling with his cast and breaking the tension with a laugh. Claire’s laugh. Clear as a bell and not a sign of anxiety.

He took her hand—it was trembling. One kiss and he gently pressed it to his stomach, warm and strong. Then up, to his chest, over his heart. Claire let her fingers guide themselves, watching the path until they reached the dark tattoo over his heart—

There was something different.

Something new.

Her name.

“Oh, Jack.”

He looked down, seemed almost surprised by the addition. “Oh, yeah.”

She leaned up and kissed him. Now she knew it was right. Her doubts had completely collapsed in on themselves, disappearing entirely. No trace to be found.

He kissed her this time, sliding his hands back to her stomach, under her dress. His cast inhibited extra movement and one hand cupped her breasts, her bra, then slid rough fingers underneath to brush over nipple. She gasped. She always gasped. It was the reaction he knew best from her. After the gasp comes an arch. Then her hips move against his.

“Dress can I take your dress off?”

He bit her neck again, then higher, behind her ear. Her nails dug into the tattoo reflexively as he teased the only breast he could have. He wanted them both and cursed his fucking cast. The fucking broken arm. The fucking asshole who fucked them up.

But then Claire said, “Yes” in such a desperate tone that he forgot and she helped peel her new dress away, then unhooked her bra and let him slide it from her shoulders, her arms, watching her skin grow pink wherever he touched it.

“Beautiful.” His mouth went to her chest just as a blush engulfed the pale skin. He felt her heart again, this time with his lips, and she gasped so softly he only knew it through the catch in her chest. Then he moved back to her breasts, wet lips and tongue over nipples that made her gasp too loudly to be unheard. He gently let his good hand rest on one of her sharp hips (too sharp), smoothing over the fabric of her knickers. Soon.

She shifted, her lip bitten and red, and untied the ribbon from her hair.

“I love you,” Jack murmured, stroking her hip again and again, knowing she was getting too worked up. She knew it had to happen, she knew it was going to happen. She knew she wanted it and she knew she loved him. But she also knew she could barely catch her breath and they had done less than in the months before.

“I love you, too.”

“You’re okay?”

Claire nodded.

“Okay.”

Another kiss. Jack sat up a little, grabbing her dress and bra and dumping them onto the floor as Claire watched him adoringly, eyes wide and somewhat amused until he came back to her and kissed her again, his hand back on her hip. He sat on his haunches and Claire watched, her knees together. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, and though Jack knew it, he simply stroked the top of her knickers, playing with the fabric and the little bow that held nothing together but were the reason she chose to buy them in the first place.

Claire bit her lip. Jack kissed her to get her to stop. She snogged him and he pressed her back against her ruffles and pillows and stuffed animals and everything that made her who she was. Everything that had nothing to do with what would be coming next.

Under Claire’s gasp, Jack reached for his belt, struggling angrily with it as Claire snogged him and once more wrapped very naked legs around his waist. He swore under his breath, making Claire giggled softly and do a little cheer when he finally dumped the belt off the side of the bed.

He snogged her hurriedly, hungrily. She matched it, channeling her nerves into her actions, pushing herself to make him love this, to make herself love this. She was nervous and he was getting closer to being quite naked. That she had never seen before. Not quite like this.

She ran her nails down his back and her shivered.

“Jack.”

“Claire?”

She blushed instantly, shaking her head as she gasped for breath.

“Shh, love.”

Suddenly his trousers were down around his thighs. He had to move off her gracelessly to get rid of them. And then it was only boxers and Claire could already see and she stopped, had to stop, and stared up at the canopy until he began to stroke her hair, watching her. Whimpering softly, an uncontrolled but very raw sound that made Jack pause. She watched him, watched him as she had on the steps, those gold eyes and sunbeaten skin and intensity that saw right through her.

Then came the gentle tug on her knickers.

Claire raised her hips.

Jack pulled them off.

The air was cold.

Jack’s boxers landed on her knickers, somewhere down below them.

Neither one of them had been completely naked at once together without a towel or handy pair of underwear within reach. Now they were naked and within reach of each other and Claire couldn’t control how wide her eyes were as she gazed over the boy who was going to be everything for her for the rest of her life.

She began to breath heavier, something changing her nervous energy into an emotion she didn’t quite know. It wasn’t full arousal, it wasn’t fear. It was something in between them both and all mixed up and it was mixing her up quite efficiently.

Jack laughed nervously this time and she suddenly realized that they were both doing something for the first time and it was just as important to him as it was to her that this be right. Maybe he knew what to do. Maybe he didn’t know at all. Claire’s expectations were considerably lower than most people might have for something like this, but it helped her stay level, stay calm. Especially when she grinned and he said, softly, almost to himself, “Wow.”

Her face had never been so pink, but it wasn’t her face he was looking at. She touched his face as if to distract him and he kissed her instantly, softer than before, and spread her legs gently, nervously, hoping it was okay to do it. Hoping it didn’t make her looks stupid or overenthusiastic. But when jack touched her thigh, she knew it was okay. She knew it was okay because she shivered and he said, “Claire?”

“Jack?”

“Promise me you’re okay because I really want you.”

So many words.

“I promise.”

Jack gently took her legs and spread them a little more. Claire curled her fingers into the sheets. It was like nearing the top of a rollercoaster.

And then Jack touched her.

The descent was electric and she almost closed her legs again, instead curling her toes as Jack kissed her and wrapped his good hand around his cock.

Claire watched. Another rise in the track. All she could hear was ‘oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god’. She bent her legs a little more, eliciting a smile from her Jack, who moved closer, propped himself over her on that arm, supporting himself with his good hand, and gently pressed the head of his cock against inside her.

She had her eyes locked on him as soon as she felt his skin, but now they closed because she felt embarrassed and flushed and it was tight and uncomfortable but a shot of something raced up her spine and she couldn’t help but angle her hips without thinking.

“Just—tell me, okay?”

Tell him what, she didn’t know. But she would tell him anything that came to her.

Then came the second descent. This one was not as pleasurable. This one was the freefall from the top. He pressed in slowly and she tried to relax, to concentrate on nothing in order to make it easier, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy because Jack was huge and even she knew that. Huge and thick and he kept gasping and it kept cutting her concentration and tensing her and it hurt!

It hurt a lot!

She couldn’t help but hiss softly, sucking in a whimpering gasp. Jack stopped instantly but didn’t pull out. “Shh—are you okay? Do you want to stop?” He kissed her neck and she could feel how ragged his breathing was, how his muscles were tense and how his shoulder was trembling. The self-control was evident and it scared her and assured her all at once.

When she opened her eyes, they were watering. But the stinging was fading, at least a little. “It just hurts. Don’t stop.”

Nodding, shivering, holding himself back, Jack quickly pushed inside her, pushed past something that no girl he had been with had ever had before—the feeling of it almost made him worry he had ripped something important, especially when, after he stopped, Claire let out a sharp cry and the hand on his shoulder curled so hard that the burnt skin turned white.

The pain was rather unspeakable.

Jack laid down closer to her, covering her body as much as he could. He was still shaking and Claire felt horrible, horrible that she was making him wait again when he had gone so far.

“Shh,” Jack said. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Claire nodded, trying to relax, trying to adjust. Letting her body familiarize itself with something it had wanted for a longer moment than Jack knew.

“Ow,” Claire breathed, laughing softly.

“I’m sorry, really.”

“It’s okay just… go slowly. Please.”

Jack nodded and propped himself up on his arms, gently sliding out and pressing back in, shallow, barely moving at all. But it was enough to be inside her. Almost.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, his voice so strained it spoke more than he ever had, “I have never felt this good in my life.”

Claire laughed again, wincing slightly when it caused her hips to move abruptly. “Good, because I’ve never felt this much pain in my life,” she teased (mostly).

Jack kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

He started moving again, just as slowly as before, kissing her to counteract whatever might be wrong. He slid a hand down, inspired, and gently touched her again, trying to give her a new sensation, trying to ignore the feeling of himself inside her body.

Claire’s gasps were new and broken and, encouraged, he let his fingers rub her deliberately. “Is this okay?”

Oh, it was more than okay. It was unlike anything Claire had ever felt and she nodded, adding, “Yes!” when she wasn’t sure if he believed her. When Jack started moving again, it felt different. Mostly like pressure, a lot of pressure, but his fingers made it almost feel good. It made the sharp sting almost go away. She felt full and stretched but Jack’s fingers felt the best.

She whimpered, then, shifting softly. “Better?”

“Yeah. Yeah.

Jack sped up his fingers, kissing her gently. His hips moved a little faster, longer thrusts, slightly deeper, still mindful of her body and his fragile doll but now mindful of the fact that she wasn’t making unhappy sounds anymore. On the contrary, she was starting to feel better than she ever had in her life.

And so she bent one leg and wrapped it around him.

He paused brokenly, his hips stalling. “Claire,” he gasped, “I can’t—can I?”

She nodded. Keeping him from what he wanted didn’t make sense. The hurt was mostly gone and the pleasure was making her dizzy. But the next thrust was so hard and deep and deliberate that she had to curl her hands into the sheets, tugging hard as she got used to it, tugging harder as he rubbed her and jolted her hips out of rhythm. She could hear him, she could feel him. When she opened her eyes and looked it made her blush.

And moan.

She kept her eyes closed, her body slightly arched away from the bed so to press her hips against his hand. Jack was moaning against her neck, kissing her wetly along her collarbone.

When she arched a second time, he grabbed the small of her back and held her up. The angle was better but she just wanted those fingers. Until his mouth moved to her nipples again and the combination of senses started to push her in a direction she’d never been. She knew what she was feeling, though she’d never had one before, and knew that Jack must have been ever closer. So Claire pulled both legs back. The pressure was still there, but easing up.

The overstimulation hit her, made her swear sharply. “Shit!”

Jack wanted to make her come. He wanted to make her come but he couldn’t stop and then he was coming. The sound of her voice was it molded into sharper words than she ever usually said was too much. His hips bucked and he was unable to rub against her for several seconds as his body tensed and he collapsed against her. Claire’s sharp whine brought him back to earth and he immediately slid his hand between them again and kissed her neck, staring at her wide eyes for a moment because they were so blue and so surprised and, well, when he looked down he realized why.

But that didn’t stop him and suddenly her eyes closed. Rolled back. She held the soles of her feet, then slid her hand sup her legs and over his shoulders and planted her heels against the bed to grind against those fingers and it only took a second before she sighed and gasped and came, Jack still inside her, her muscles tensing around him, making him jerk hard again.

Jack started kissing her neck immediately, pulling out a second after that, slowly. The release of pressure felt almost better than the pressure itself (well, it did, but it wasn’t Jack’s fault). Something was trickling down her skin, down her bum, and she closed her legs self-consciously on Jack.

She couldn’t stop trembling. Jack grinned against her neck and she kissed his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Claire replied, gently combing a hand through his sweaty, mussy hair. He kissed her after watching her for a moment.

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she whispered nervously.

“I know.” A grin cut his sentence in half. “But it was with me.”

“It couldn’t be anyone else.”

Several minutes passed, filled only with the quiet. The distant sound of London traffic from outside filled the room with a gentle lull.

“Hey Claire.”

“Jack?”

“None of your friends like me, do they?”

“Avery likes you.”

“Yeah, Avery’s nice.”

Jack slid down and rested his head against her chest.

“Okay, Avery can come.”

“Come where?”

“Where do you think?”

“Out to dinner?”

Jack grinned. “No!”

“Then where?” Claire asked, confused.

“You don’t think we’re going to date forever, do you?” Jack asked, sitting up.

Claire looked at him, horrified. Her entire body seized.

“What?” she asked fearfully.

“He can come. He can be best man or bridesmaid.”

She stared at him, relief swamping out the fright and shock swamping out the relief.

“Wait, you—All right. Okay.” She grinned, smug. Happy. Content. “Yes.”

“Yes he’d might be a bridesmaid?”

“Something like that.”

“I haven’t asked you yet!” Jack exclaimed, confusing her again as he ruffled her hair.

“You’re planning our wedding.”

Jack bit her fingers and she swatted him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I won’t let you go anywhere.”

“Good. Now I’m showering so you can write in your diary.”

Claire laughed. She was far too drained to write now, but the thought made her happy.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed her head. She grinned. As he hopped off the bed and walked to her bathroom, Claire watched him. Everything felt almost as it had an hour ago. Two hours ago. Except now Avery was signed up to be a bridesmaid and Claire had to do some laundry.

She loved Jack. Sex didn’t prove that. It made her feel as though they could do anything together, survive, show anyone who dared question them that they were wrong and she and Jack were right and would always be right, had never been anything but right.

So fucking there!

Now to hide Jack’s boxers.

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