Here is my answer to the prompt: smut.
He found her in the bathroom when he got home. Sister Julienne had told him she'd taken a tumble off her bike when trying to avoid a child who had run out into the road, and he had come home at once.
"Hello," he called, tapping on the bathroom door, "Are you alright? Can I come in?"
"Yes, I'm fine," came her voice in reply, "Come in if you want to."
He entered the room quickly, to find her sitting on a chair in the middle of the room with her stockings discarded beside her on the floor, her foot resting up on the edge of the bath so that she could clean her knee with the hot water that rested beside her.
"Here, let me," he told her, taking the water and the swab of cotton wool she was using out of her hands, sitting down on the edge of the bath and examining the wound himself, "Just sit back in the chair and relax. Now, what happened?"
"I was coming back from a home visit and a little boy ran out into the road," she told him, leaning her head back a little,"He was only little and he wasn't watching where he was going. I was going too quickly the break safely so I swerved. But I was obviously going too quickly to swerve safely too."
He gave her a patient but nevertheless firm look.
"You should be more-..."
"Careful?" she finished for him, giving him a challenging look in return, "If I hadn't been careful, I would have run him over."
He held her eyes for a second, still dabbing gently at her knee.
"That's not what I mean," he told her quietly, smiling in spite of himself at the quickness of her reply, "And you know it."
She blinked, smiling, looking back down at her knee.
"Sister Julienne said she'd given you the rest of the day off," he continued levelly, wondering if she would have seen fit to mention it at all if he did not bring it up first, "She said you seemed like you'd had a bit of a shock."
"I had, a little," she admitted, placing great emphasis on the latter part, "I was a little bit shaken, that's all. Sister Julienne is being overly cautious. She worries about me too much."
"She's taking care of you," he corrected her, "And I'm very grateful to her for it. Does it sting?" he asked.
"Only because the water's hot," she replied, "It feels a lot better now that it's clean."
"She said I should take some time off to stay with you," he told her, chewing his lip a little as he gave her knee a final dab.
She looked at him seriously and saw that he was not pulling her leg.
"Then she's definitely being over cautious," she told him, smiling, "But," she added a moment later, her smile broadening a fraction, "I can't say that I'm sorry."
"No," he replied, their eyes meeting, "Nor can I. I think you're about finished," he told her, indicating that her knee was clean, "Do you want me to get you a patch of gauze?"
"If you don't mind," she replied.
He was gone only a few moments, returning from his bag with a length of gauze bandage.
"Just to keep you out of trouble," he told her, wrapping the bandage smoothly around her knee, "I don't want it to get infected."
"Thank you, Patrick," she told him gratefully, "Oh, but if you bandage me up, it won't go underneath my stockings."
"Then we'll just have to keep you without your stockings for the rest of the day," he told her, a definite twinkle in his eyes, "It's alright, I don't mind."
"No, I'm sure you don't," she replied. But she smiled at him softly.
As gently as he could, he tightened a knot in the back of the bandage.
"How does that feel?" he asked, "Not too tight?"
"No, it's alright," she told him, "It's just fine now. Thank you," she told him again.
There was a pause. They were looking at each other intently. His hands still rested gently on her knee, over the bandage but away from the wound. The smile slipped gradually away from her face and grew into something more intense as they continued to gaze at one another. Slowly, he bowed his head forwards, his whole body bowing before her, as he bent gently to plant a kiss on the exposed skin of her knee, above her bandage. Her eyes did not leave him even once he straightened up. She was noticeably breathless, as if she had not breathed at all since she had last looked into his eyes.
"Patrick," she murmured, her voice sounding ragged.
"Shelagh, darling," he whispered in reply, leaning forwards again, grazing his fingers down her other un-stockinged leg, from half way down her thigh to her knee, "We have the day to ourselves until Timothy comes home from school," he told her gently.
Part of her brain was telling her that if she was well enough for this, she was well enough to work, but somehow she didn't fancy explaining that rationale to Sister Julienne, so she decided not to force the issue.
"Good," she replied firmly, her voice sounding a touch deeper than usual, as if that was the only way she could force it to remain level.
An almost impish grin crossed his face.
"And why is that so good, Mrs. Turner?" he teased her, "What had you in mind for us to do in the meantime?"
"Patrick-..." her voice trembled a little.
Fortunately, he decided to take pity on her, bending forwards again and retracing the line down her thigh that his finger had just made with his lips. He heard her gasp and smiled against her knee with satisfaction.
He kept leaning forwards, kissing her legs, nuzzling against her skin.
"Shouldn't we-..." Shelagh nodded towards the door, indicating that perhaps they should move across into their bedroom.
"Only if you want to," he replied, looking up into her eyes.
She looked back at him, and her curiosity overtook her, as well as the fact that she wasn't sure that she could trust her legs to support her if she stood. She shook her head slowly. Leaning in towards her, he kissed her lips gently, fully and passionately, before moving off the edge of the bath to sit on the floor between her legs. She frowned at him a little, but her confusion was clarified the moment he spoke.
"Take you knickers off?" he asked her.
She rested a hand on his shoulder to support herself, standing up and taking her underwear off as quickly as she could, discarding it on the floor beside her stockings. She sank back into the chair, and gently, using only the pads of his thumbs, he raised the hem of her nurse's uniform up her legs, almost to her hips. He guided her bottom gently so that she sat on the edge of the chair.
"Just lean back and relax," he told her again, smiling as he repeated his former words in such a different context.
She did so, she could do nothing else, and he heard her give a loud, contented sigh as she felt his lips on the skin on the inside of her thighs. He teased her for a little while, concentrating only on the pale whiteness of her skin, but she was moaning gently now, pushing herself forwards, closer to him. She keened loudly as he sank his lips against her folds, parting her with his tongue and tasting her, slipping his tongue inside her. He could feel her hips rocking instinctively and moved his tongue in time with her movements, until she came with a cry against his mouth.
He rested with his head against her thigh, his arms wrapped around her hip, listening to the sound of her breathing slowing down. Her fingers were woven into his hair, and as she gathered herself he felt her fingers moving, gently caressing his head.
"Patrick, darling," she murmured, her voice sounding hoarse.
He kissed the top of her thigh once more before lifting his eyes to look at her.
"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked her quietly.
She nodded silently, and he stood up, offering her his hand and helping her stand, straightening her dress out for her as he did so. She smiled her thanks, only for her smile to replaced a moment later by a look of surprise as he lifted her into his arms and carried her through into their bedroom.
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