Title: It's Been a Long, Long Time
Fandom: As Time Goes By
Pairing: Lionel/Jean
Summary: Old lovers reacquaint themselves.
Disclaimer: No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Written for Porn Battle VII (Prompt: Lionel/Jean, long time)
It's Been a Long, Long Time
"It's been a long time, Lionel!"
"I may be a bit slower starting up, but I doubt I've forgotten how." Lionel glowered indignantly and attempted another foray in her direction.
Jean squeaked and scooted dangerously close to the edge of the bed. "You're tired! You've had a very long day, and, and you must be exhausted."
"The length of a day is as boring and dependable as I am; today was just as long as yesterday was and just as long as tomorrow will be, provided the earth doesn't fall out of its orbit." He leered theatrically. "And I'm feeling considerably less tired than I did on the way up the stairs."
Her anxiety had reached fever pitch, and she cast about for any excuse that seemed vaguely plausible. "What if Judith pops in to wish us good night?"
"Wish us good night? It's a bit of a jaunt from Woking just to pop her head 'round the door and chirp, 'Good night, Mum! Good night, Lionel!'" He added more gently. "We have her blessing, you know."
Jean shot upright, horrified. "What?"
"She said, and these are her words, mind you, 'I hope you shag Mum silly while I'm away.'"
"Oh, dear! What'll we do?"
"Well--" His questing hand was batted away before it reached anywhere more interesting than the seam of her pillow.
"Be serious, Lionel! Oh! I won't be able to face her tomorrow." She moaned and buried her face in the duvet.
After a few moments passed, Lionel ventured, "Jean, this isn't about how long it's been or me being tired or even having Judy know what you've been up to, is it? This is about you feeling old and self-conscious."
"It's just that I, I'm not lithe, young Jean anymore, and--"
"And I would be quite disappointed if you were. Because, much as I enjoyed 'lithe, young Jean' back then, it's you I've trekked up the stairs for tonight. Besides," he added wryly, "I don't think I could keep up with 'lithe, young Jean' anymore." He slid the duvet from her loosened grasp and tossed it to the end of the bed. "You're old. I'm old. The important thing is that we're old together--here, now." He eased a button of her high-necked nightgown loose, and then another and another as he bent in for a kiss.
Keeping her mind occupied with the long-familiar thrust and slide of their mouths, Lionel slipped his hand between the sturdy, sensible fabric and cupped her left breast. It was fuller and heavier than he remembered, and the skin more fragile than supple, but the curve of his finger around her nipple still elicited a shivery sigh that fragmented all further thoughts. Her fingers, as tentative as that first night in Buckinghamshire, threaded through his thinning hair. Just as then, he knew he somehow (improbably, impossibly) was holding the most beautiful woman in the world, but this time he wasn't going to let her go.