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Outlander fanart: One Fine Day

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It's been awhile since my last post with a fanart.
Not that I haven't drawn all this time. No, I can't live without making art.
But we had so much exciting things in the recent months inside "Harry Potter" fandom, and also at "Outlander"s one, with the release of the wonderful graphic novel "The Exile".
I've also had some moments of reflection about what are my true pleasures within the fandom, and of course the conclusion is that the first one is always "making art".
So, I decided to postpone a little the post with this fanart.
I started it last April but only finished the art completely in August.
It may look a little simple, but I had a lot of work (and headaches) doing all that green stuff around that kilt! Hehe!
Also, I think my friends will understand (after have seen it) that I didn't want to take the risk of some malicious reporter (as had happened yet) confusing things and thinking that the character on it is some wizard from Harry Potter series.
No, this one is from one of the most beautiful moments at Outlander book, when Claire discovered she must be falling in love with Jamie Fraser!
It's all about these wonderful characteres Diana Gabaldon created, and althought, like we know, Jamie Fraser is not a wizard, everyone that already read this amazing book know that he's magical!

This drawing was all handmade in a 200g/m² Canson A4 size paper with gouache and dry watercolour pencils. NO Photoshop used and I think we can rate it as an "R" only because of the nudity.

If everything goes alright, I want to post more two Ron and Hermione fanarts till the end of the year!
I hope you enjoy this one, even if you have not read Outlander yet!

PLEASE CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO SEE IT BIGGER



One Fine Day


Instead, I was answered with a gentle snore. An overhanging fern brushed his cheek, and an inquisitive ant crawled across his hand, making the long fingers twitch in his sleep.

I brushed it away and leaned back on one elbow, watching him. His lashes were long, seen thus with his eyes closed, and thick. Oddly colored, though; dark auburn at the tips, they were very light, almost blond at the roots.

The firm line of his mouth had relaxed in sleep. While it kept a faintly humorous curl at the corner, his lower lip now eased into a fuller curve that seemed both sensual and innocent.

"Damn," I said softly to myself.

I had been fighting it for some time. Even before this ridiculous marriage, I had been more than conscious of his attraction. It had happened before, as it doubtless happens to almost everyone. A sudden sensitivity to the presence, the appearance, of a particular man—or woman, I suppose. The urge to follow him with my eyes, to arrange for small "inadvertent" meetings, to watch him unawares as he went about his work, an exquisite sensitivity to the small details of his body—the shoulder-blades beneath the cloth of his shirt, the lumpy bones of his wrists, the soft place underneath his jaw, where the first prickles of his beard begin to show.

Infatuation. It was common, among the nurses and the doctors, the nurses and the patients, among any gathering of people thrown for long periods into one another's company.

Some acted on it, and brief, intense affairs were frequent. If they were lucky, the affair flamed out within a few months and nothing resulted from it. If they were not… well. Pregnancy, divorce, here and there the odd case of venereal disease. Dangerous thing, infatuation.

I had felt it, several times, but had had the good sense not to act on it. And as it always does, after a time the attraction had lessened, and the man lost his golden aura and resumed his usual place in my life, with no harm done to him, to me, or to Frank.

And now. Now I had been forced to act on it. And God only knew what harm might be done by that action. But there was no turning back from this point.

He lay at ease, sprawled on his stomach. The sun glinted off his red mane and lit the tiny soft hairs that crested his spine, running down to the reddish-gold fuzz that dusted his buttocks and thighs, and deepened into the thicket of soft auburn curls that showed briefly between his spread legs.

I sat up, admiring the long legs, with the smooth line of muscling that indented the thigh from hip to knee, and another that ran from knee to long, elegant foot. The bottoms of his feet were smooth and pink, slightly callused from going barefoot.

My fingers ached, wanting to trace the line of his small, neat ear and the blunt angle of his jaw. Well, I thought, the actionhad been taken, and it was far past the time for restraint. Nothing I did now could make matters worse, for either of us. I reached out and gently touched him.

He slept very lightly. With a suddenness that made me jump, he flipped over, bracing himself on his elbows as though to leap to his feet. Seeing me, he relaxed, smiling.

"Madam, you have me at a disadvantage."

He made a very creditable courtly bow, for a man stretched at full length in a patch of ferns, wearing nothing but a few dappled splotches of sunlight, and I laughed. The smile stayed on his face, but it altered as he looked at me, naked in the ferns. His voice was suddenly husky.

"In fact, Madam, you have me at your mercy."

"Have I, then?" I said softly.

He didn't move, as I reached out once more and drew my hand slowly down his cheek and neck, over the gleaming slope of his shoulder, and down. He didn't move, but he closed his eyes.

"Dear Holy Lord," he said.

He drew his breath in sharply.

"Don't worry," I said. "It doesn't have to be rough."

"Thank God for small mercies."

"Keep still."

His fingers dug deeply into the crumbling earth, but he obeyed.

"Please," he said after a time. Glancing up, I could see that his eyes were open now.

"No," I said, enjoying myself. He closed his eyes again.

"You'll pay for this," he said a short time later. A fine dew of sweat shone on the straight bridge of his nose.

"Really?" I said. "What are you going to do?"

The tendons stood out in his forearms as he pressed his palms against the earth, and he spoke with an effort, as though his teeth were clenched.

"I don't know, but… by Christ and St. Agnes… I will… th-think of s-something! God! Please!"

"All right," I said, releasing him.

And I uttered a small shriek as he rolled onto me, pinning me against the ferns.

"Your turn," he said, with considerable satisfaction.
Image size
1021x719px 268.38 KB
Make
HP
Model
HP pst2600
Date Taken
Aug 12, 2010, 11:14:44 AM
Mature
© 2010 - 2024 lillywmw
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