This prompt was given to me so long ago, but it's taken me forever to write it. I had hoped to have it ready by her birthday, but still managed to be several days late. This is for you Kristen, I really hope you enjoy it and that it meets your expectations. Happy Belated Birthday!
Shout out to ellie5192 for advising me on a few Aussie phrases. Thank you once again! I apologize if I botched anything else up with my American ignorance. Please forgive me.
And as always, a big thanks to my beta and partner in crime IReadAndWriteSometimes. She always gives the best advice and sharing a brain always provides such great laughs. Any mistakes that are left, are mine alone.
A FOOL'S LOVE
Lucien stuffed up, and he stuffed up big. Since that one honest conversation with Matthew, he had been doing fairly well at keeping his promise to be the man that Jean needed him to be. Sure, there were a few stumbles along the way, which was to be expected, but unlike before, he didn't try to hide until the worst of it blew over. He immediately worked at correcting his mistakes and together they were able to move past them, for Jean, as always, is ever so patient with him and continues to offer her unconditional love and support.
This morning, however, he cocked it up in that way only Lucien Blake could. He had opened his mouth wide and jumped in with both feet. Over breakfast whilst talking to Matthew, without even thinking, he had said something foolish, making some asinine generalization not thinking about how it pertained to anyone else in the room. It hurt Jean's feeling; it cut her deep. She didn't even respond with the usual tongue lashing that his stupidity often elicited. Her face had fallen with hurt before an anger sparked in her eyes and continued to burn in a blazing inferno of the likes he'd never seen before. That look squeezed his heart like a vice grip and he feared its consequences. Before he could fumble with an apology, she had walked right out of the kitchen. His first instinct was to chase after her, but Matthew had blocked the path with his cane, warning him that now was not the time. Jean needed time and space. He should've been grateful that at least Matthew didn't shove his boot up his arse, but the only thing he could think about was how he was going to make this up to Jean.
Lucien gave her what he considered to be ample time and space, because surely an hour or so was enough, but when he sought her out in the sunroom where she escaped to, he received nothing but a cold shoulder. His 'I'm sorry' falling on deaf ears and to the ground where it belonged alongside the dead leaves and blooms of the plant she was pruning. After that, he holed himself up in his office and attempted to prepare for the patients on the schedule that day, but he only managed to ruminate about his shortcomings as a husband.
A knock on his office door sometime later had his heart rate skyrocketing. He thought perhaps Jean was ready to hear him out, but she simply informed him that his first appointment would be arriving soon before turning and leaving once again, her eyes never once meeting his. When the first patient arrived shortly after, he was the one to answer the door and that's how their day of revolving patients began. Jean ushered them in and out of his office, her warmth and kindness radiating from her as she greeted and bid each of them goodbye. Despite his imploring gaze, it was never once directed toward him. The patients were none the wiser of the silent battle occurring between them...that is until Agnes Clasby arrived.
Agnes offered for Jean to sit with them during her appointment, much like she always did, but Jean politely declined. Lucien didn't think there was anything telling in his wife's behavior, but Agnes was always one to see straight through a situation as though she was peering through a window.
When Jean shut the door, leaving them alone, Agnes looked over at him with a disappointed shake of her head. "You're a fool, Lucien." She pointed a crooked finger at him. "Fix it."
Lucien didn't bother denying it, he simply responded to her with a curt nod of his head. Agnes's bluntness is always both refreshing and infuriating, more so the latter, but he truly admires her for it. His own attempts at being forthcoming tend to dramatically backfire and he's left scrambling to fix the mess he's created.
Agnes's appointment lacked her usual chiding and gossiping, which Lucien found odd but was extremely grateful for, and it wasn't long before he was showing her to the door with an adjusted blood pressure medicine script. He is left standing in the hall wondering exactly what to do next.
Through the doorway, he can just see Jean sitting at the desk in the reception area working through some paperwork. He really ought to go back to his office and fill out patient notes while they are fresh on his mind, but Agnes's "fix it" is still ringing in his ears. He couldn't very well fix it if Jean wouldn't talk to him, much less look at him now could he? As he takes a step in Jean's direction, a small warning flits through his mind that now is still not the time, but as Agnes pointed out just moments before, he was a fool. There was also the fact that the deafening silence his wife had bestowed on him was slowly driving him mad. He doesn't think he can make it through the rest of the afternoon knowing she was walking around their house, hurting, because of him. He really needs to remedy the situation.
He makes sure his presence is known with a clearing of his throat, and this time she spares him a brief glance through her eyelashes before returning to her work. He decides that's progress.
"Are there anymore appointments today?" Lucien knows the answer, but he is looking for an opening.
Her tone is clipped when she says, "That was the last one."
"Right." Lucien's hand pats down the lacquered hair at the back of his head before dropping down to smooth over his vest in the same nervous, fumbling manner. "Very good then."
He waits to see if she would say anything else and once again, he is met with silence. However, she is yet to tell him to bugger off, so he takes a hesitant step further into the room. There is a slight tensing to her small frame that causes Lucien's steps to waver, and he briefly entertains the idea of tucking tail and running to save face, but his stubbornness and determination win out. When he reaches the edge of the desk, he notes the way she eyes him warily from her peripheral, as though she's afraid of what he'll do next. He wants to touch her, but he opts for settling himself on the desk's edge, just out of reach. Jean studiously continues to ignore him, acting as though he isn't even there.
"Jean," Lucien coughs past the lump in his throat, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning, particularly for what I said." His shoulders draw back, a sign of his discomfort, but he continues on. "It was in no way directed towards you," the look of venom she shoots his way has him amending, "but that's not the point because I, erm, should never have said it."
They lapse into silence as Jean stares blankly ahead for far too long. When she finally does look up at him, her face is devoid of all emotion. "Very well then." She rises from her chair and steps away from the desk, intent on leaving him there.
Lucien frowns, unsure of what is happening. "Jean?" He catches her arm just as she rounds the desk. Her fury returns at his action, but he stupidly presses on. "I'm truly sorry. I've behaved poorly." He stands up, wrapping his arms around her waist and his nose brushes at her temple as he whispers, "Please talk to me."
She still doesn't speak to him, but she also doesn't push him away. She remains in his loose embrace. Usually, when Jean is affectionately piqued with him, all it takes is a few well placed nuzzles and kisses to her neck combined with some sweet words and she easily caves, giving in to whatever ridiculous idea he has in mind. Even though her ire is far beyond being affectionate, and their situation is far from being the usual playful one, he thinks he just might have a chance at getting her to listen if he applies the same tactic now.
There's a reason he's been called a fool after all.
His nose traces the shell of her ear and he quietly whispers another apology. He's working his way to the sensitive spot behind her ear, when Jean's hands slide up his arms to grip his face and she finally kisses him back with a passion he's not felt before. He smiles like the fool that he is, thinking he's finally winning the battle, right before she bites down on his bottom lip, hard.
"Bloody hell," he growls as he pulls back and brings a hand up to his stinging lip. There's a small smear of blood on his finger when he pulls it away.
His Jean has a fiery spry spirit that often reveals itself further when they are intimate. She's bitten him before, but there's generally this mischievous glint in her lust filled eyes when she does it. She's also never drawn blood. Now, as he stares at her in shock, that glint has been replaced by fury, but the underlying lust is still there, and if possible, even more prominent than any other time before. Lucien finds himself equally fearful and aroused by her visceral reaction.
He threads his fingers through the hair at the back of her head and grips forcefully. Not too hard to inflict pain, no harder than previous times he's done the same thing during their more amorous rounds of lovemaking, but enough to retaliate for his aching lip. Although he feels an almost overwhelming excitement at the turn their encounter has taken, particularly when Jean lets off a small gasp of pleasure and her pupils dilate even further in response to his grip, he is still wary of where the boundaries lie. Most days his unbridled passion for his wife is barely contained, but he's never once pushed beyond where he thinks those imaginary limitations might be. Right now, in this moment, is the closest he's felt to crossing them.
Lucien leans down and presses a rough kiss to her lips, ignoring the jolt of pain where his lip still throbs. He knows this is the right response when she momentarily melts against him and wraps her arms completely around his neck. Her softness is gone in an instant though. She very suddenly starts tugging at his clothes, wrench his tie loose from its knot before moving on to the buttons of his vest. He's almost certain she's going to rip something. He grabs her hands in an attempt to slow things down, but she slaps his hands away and diverts her attention to his belt buckle. When she's pulled it from the loops of his trousers with a snap, he once again tries to slow her down by taking hold of her hands and bringing them to his mouth. He starts kissing each finger in turn, but only makes it to the third one when she twists her hands from his grasp. Her hands hit his chest with a smack and she pushes him away. Just when he's certain she's about to walk away from him again, she turns around to bend over the desk and shoves her ass up against his now fully hard erection.
Lucien gets the message.
He slides her skirt up over her hips and groans at the sight of her garter belt and stockings. This view is one of his favorites he will never tire of seeing. Normally he would take his time to teasingly run his palms up and down her legs until she's squirming with want and need, then he would slowly begin removing her stockings only to repeat the process on her bare legs. He loves bringing her to the brink of madness with just a simple touch of his hands. Right now, however, Jean is not in the mood for teasing. She'd just as soon kick him in the groin and leave him to his own devices than allow him to continue. He slips his fingers into the waistband of her panties and gives them a slight tug until they drop to her ankles, allowing her to step out of them. He's left with the sight of Jean gracefully leaning over the desk, her bare bum peeking out beneath the garterbelt, and he has to admit, it's almost as delectable as having her spread out before him fully nude. He takes the time to admire her as he undoes the button on his trousers and lets them fall to the floor. She huffs with impatience, but he still allows himself one teasing caress along each of her cheeks before taking himself in his hand and lining up with her entrance.
Without their usual level of foreplay, she isn't quite ready for him and his initial thrust into her is met with some resistance. He continues with slow, shallow strokes, intending to give her a little time to catch up, but her impatient grunts and the hands grabbing at his hips in an attempt to urge him on indicate his gentleness is not wanted, nor is it appreciated. On his withdraw, he pulls back at the same slow, measured pace, but then completely catches her off guard when he suddenly lunges forward and his pelvis rams into her. The momentum causes Jean's upper body to careen forward and fall across the desk, her hips roughly knocking into its edge.
"Jean?" Lucien asks, worried he's hurt her.
Her hands grip the far side of the desk to steady herself and she pushes herself back firmly into him. "Again," she commands.
Lucien doesn't hesitate to comply and repeats the same slow withdraw before he forcefully drives his hips into her once again. Before he knows it, he's pounding into her in a relentless rhythm and his breaths have become ragged from the exertion. Jean continues to meet him thrust for thrust, and her quiet moans and whimpers intermingle with his labored grunts. It isn't until he hears a sob followed by a sniffle that his gaze drops to her face and that he notices the tears slipping from her eyes and falling across the bridge of her nose to the desk below.
His movements come to an halt. "Jean?"
"No," she arches off the desk, attempting to regain the leverage to continue grinding her body against his, "don't stop."
Lucien remains immobile, confused by the warring emotions about the sight before him. Her tears still fall while her body continues to writhe against him in a silent plea for more. He has the fleeting thought that this has gone too far, but the sound of Jean's desperate voice begging him "Please, Lucien" pushes it aside and he begins to slowly move again.
The relief in her gaze has realization dawning on him. Her tears are not a result of a physical hurt, but an unleashing of the emotional pain he so callously inflicted upon her this morning with his thoughtless words. With each drop, she's letting go of the all the indignation and resentment she feels for him in this moment. Knowing that he's still the cause of her tears has his own anger building up inside him. It travels down his spine like a growing vine, settling in the force he uses behind his hips, and he is once again hammering into her at a tireless pace.
Lucien begins mumbling, "I'm sorry," repeatedly with every stroke even though he knows it won't suffice. His pathetic apologies are never enough to make up for his shortcomings. He's furious with himself and ashamed that once again he's the one responsible for her suffering. He's enraged that no matter how hard he tries, he still can't seem to get it right for her. For his Jean that he never deserved in the first place, but who despite his many faults, loves him and wants him anyway. Even with knowing all of this, he allowed himself to be selfish in going after her, and look what it got them. A part of him knows that upsetting her was inevitable, it comes with the territory of being married, but that doesn't make it any easier to cope with the consequences.
Lucien feels the tightening in his groin and he knows it won't be much longer before he reaches his climax. Knowing Jean's body as well as he does, he can sense that she isn't close enough quite yet. He'll be damned if he screws this up, too. She was searching for a safe release for her anger and he's going to assure that he gives it to her.
One of his hands releases its tight grip on her hip and drifts across her ribcage to her torso where he lifts Jean's upper body from the desk just enough to create some room. She makes a small noise of protest, but Lucien ignores it as his hand continues to slide up to the top of her blouse. There's some fumbling as he works the small button through its hole and his thrusts falter ever so slightly. He regains his stride once he's loosened enough buttons to get his hands inside her top. His fingers then delve beneath the cup of her bra, grabbing roughly at her breast before narrowing in on the nipple and pinching hard. Jean's head falls forward and he is rewarded with a soft whimper. Nonetheless, she's still going to need an extra push if he wants her to fall over the edge with him. The power of his thrusts decreases ever so slightly as he takes a fraction of a step back, and using the hand still anchored to her hip, brings her lower half with him. The extra little bit of space allows him to slip his hand around her in search of her center.
Lucien's body is now completely wrapped around Jean's and he has her crushed against him. His range of motions is now limited, but he's still able to forcefully drive into her with each stroke and she's still using the leverage of the desk for her counterthrust. The fingers of one hand continue to pinch and pull at her nipples while those of the other flick and rub against her nub in that way he knows will bring her to the brink in record time. Jean's soft mewls begin to crescendo into breathy shouts and he knows she's almost there so he doubles his efforts. It's not long before her entire body goes rigid for a breath of a second, and on the next exhale she lets loose an extended, throaty moan as her orgasm washes over her. Lucien holds off his own just long enough to work her through it, but the moment her body goes slack in his hold, he pushes into her one final time and his own roar of release reverberates throughout the room.
It takes a moment for his vision to focus and for his lungs to no longer feel as if they're on fire. He realizes then that Jean is still trapped beneath the heavy weight of his body and she is struggling for air. As quickly as his still trembling body will let him, he stands up straight and pulls her along with him. A few of the papers that were covering the desk are stuck to the sweaty skin of Jean's face and chest and Lucien brushes them off before staggering backwards until the backs of his knees hit a chair and he sinks down into it, bringing Jean with him. He is still embedded inside her and the movement causes her inner muscles to tighten and loosen around his still sensitive member, eliciting a hiss from his lips. Jean lifts her hips just enough for him to slip from inside her before dropping heavily against him once again. They both choose to ignore the feel of warm fluids dripping down their legs and allow their breaths to slowly return to normal.
They're quiet for a long while. Jean stares up at the ceiling, her arm resting on the one he still has draped around her middle, and Lucien places feather light kisses from the juncture of her neck and shoulder up to her jaw. He knows he should say something, but he's afraid to break the spell of the moment. He settles for a softly mumbled "I love you" as his nose nuzzles the sensitive spot behind her ear.
"I know," Jean responds flatly. There's a brief pause before she adds, "I'm still not ready to forgive you."
"Yes," Lucien exhales a sigh of surrender. "I know."
"I need to get the laundry off the line before I start dinner." She's speaking in an emotionless tone that he's not used to hearing from her. "I'm sure you have things to do at the station."
It's a dismissal if he's ever heard one. She knows they have reached a lull in their case, they're waiting for lab results to come back from Melbourne. Normally he would jump at the chance to seek out a new lead, but even he has mostly learned to know when his hands are tied. It also helps that it's all pretty straight-forward, the case isn't a big mystery. It's on the tip of his tongue to offer to gather the laundry for her, it's one of the few things she's trusted him to help out with besides vacuuming and drying the dishes, but he refrains. He realizes he's pushed her far enough for today, and although the recent outcome was pleasant, if not confusing and almost shameful, he doesn't expect to be so lucky the next time he crosses the line.
Jean takes his extended silence as an answer and pushes herself up off of him. Her legs are still weak and she stumbles slightly. Lucien reaches out to steady her with a gentle but firm grasp to her waist. He feels her hands brush against his in what he thinks could be an expression of thanks, but they just quickly move on to grab the hem of her skirt and she begins tugging it down.
Lucien grips her wrists and stops her. "Let me help you clean up first."
With a groan, he bends down to reach for his trousers that were still looped around his ankles and pulls out a handkerchief from one of the pockets. His hand is halfway up her thigh when she stills it and takes the small cloth from him to finish the job herself. It hurts that she refuses his assistance and once again she isn't meeting his eyes. He begins to wonder if he really did cross some boundary, but before he can ask if everything is alright (besides the obvious of course), Jean has righted all of her clothes and is walking out the office door.
Lucien is left wondering if he just made things worse.
After cleaning himself up and re-organizing the mess he made on Jean's desk, he heeds her suggestion and finds his way to the station. Matthew doesn't seem at all surprised to see him, but he says nothing about the events of breakfast. With nothing else to do, Lucien uses the pretense that he wants to make sure they didn't miss anything and requests to look over the files regarding their case. His perusing of the folder takes far longer than necessary, for his mind is still stuck back in that office with Jean.
Her cool departure has him questioning every decision and move he made once he approached her. He found it disconcerting that she remained so indifferent towards him even after their explosive union on that desktop. He wasn't daft enough to think he would be so easily forgiven, but he did think that maybe she would at least be more willing to hear him out. He's at a loss as to where to go from here and that frightens him. He wishes he would've listened to the advice from his friend and left her alone until she was ready to approach him.
Over an hour has passed when Matthew taps him on the shoulder and informs him it's time to go home for dinner. Lucien's heart drops to his stomach at the thought of having to face Jean once again. Perhaps she still needs space, she did all but push him out the door earlier.
Matthew must sense he's about to beg off because he hits Lucien's leg with his cane. "Don't make things worse. Get your ass home."
Lucien doesn't think it is possible to make things worse, but he isn't willing to chance it and follows his friend home.
Their dinner feels mostly normal except for the fact that Lucien and Jean share very few words or glances. They do, however, engage in conversation with the others at the table. Alice joined them and her endearing social awkwardness is the perfect distraction as she fills any lingering silences with the first thought that enters her mind. When Jean begins clearing their plates, Lucien excuses himself to the living room and takes a seat at the piano. His usual confidence is lacking as he plays, however, and he finds himself fumbling over the keys and in some cases completely forgetting what notes come next in songs he's had memorized for years. He's unable to get out of his head long enough to fully immerse himself into the music. Just when he thinks he should spare the rest of the household from his horrendous attempts at making music, he feels a gentle hand brush across his shoulder and then there's a whiskey glass being placed on the table next to him. He angles his body just enough to watch her walk past him with her own glass and sit down on the couch where she then pulls out her knitting.
The tension leaves Lucien's body on a breathed wave of relief. That simple touch informs him that he's not irredeemable...yet. He knows he's not quite out of the woods, but he can at least see the light filtering through the trees ahead. He returns his attention to the piano, and this time he fingers float effortlessly over the keys and he has no problem remembering the tunes. He plays for a long while, even after Matthew bids them goodnight and Jean informs him she is going to take a bath. It's not until he's certain she's had ample time to enjoy her bath that he rises from the bench and shuts everything off for the night before heading to their room.
Lucien is sitting on the edge of their bed removing his shoes when Jean walks in wearing only her silk robe. The heat of the water has left a wonderful pink flush on her cheeks and chest, and he suddenly longs to touch her. Tentatively he holds out his hand to her and is more than grateful when she easily accepts it to step between the cradle of his legs. He slowly reaches up and clasps ahold of one end of the belt that's keeping her robe closed. When she doesn't stop him, he pulls on it and it falls open, revealing even more flushed skin beneath. As he reverently brushes a hand across her stomach, he catches sight of a purpling bruise on one of her hips. A quick glance confirms there is a matching mark on her other side as well.
"Oh, Jeannie," his voice chokes on a sob, "I'm so, so sorry." He places a gentle kiss over the darkening skin on each hip, then presses his face into her stomach to hide his shame.
It's not the first time that her body has been marked (and his has been, too), for it's not unusual for them to sometimes get a little carried away. It is, however, the first time that the forming of such bumps and bruises was not combined with joyous laughter or the light admonishment that they're too old to be behaving like this. These marks were created amongst a flurry of heightened angry emotions and that thought has him feeling nauseous. What must she think of him?
"Those are nothing Lucien," Jean says dismissively, not even the slightest bit concerned. "You did what I asked and it was what I needed. Besides," her fingers slide through the hair on top of his head, disrupting the neatly combed locks, "I think you've apologized enough for one day." Her grip tightens as she tilts his head back so that he's looking up and her eyes bore into his. "Just do better."
"I will," he promises without hesitation.
She doesn't need to say anything more, he's already reprimanded himself enough for the both of them. Anything else she could say has already gone through his mind several times over. She wasn't asking him to be perfect, she never did. He slipped up though, and now he needed to regain her trust and confidence in him.
Jean leans down and draws a long, languid kiss from his lips before resting her forehead against his. "I love you, too."
She hadn't said it back earlier, she was still too mad at him. He understood that if she did, it would seem like she was letting him off the hook far too easily, as though his sweet words were sufficient enough to counteract his insensitivity. But now that she had time to process her anger and he had time to reflect on his actions, she was ready to express her forgiveness and he was prepared to show her he deserved it, even though most days he wasn't certain he did.
Lucien stands, brushing the thin robe off her shoulders as he goes. Cupping her face in each of his hands, he carefully scans her features, searching for any residual hurt or anger. It's when she gives him that sweet, tentative smile of hers that he lowers his lips to hers and kisses her as if his life depends on it. He doesn't release her lips until he has her turned and her back lowered to the mattress, intent on showing her just how precious she is to him. Each kiss down her body is punctuated by an "I love you." Jean's already squirming beneath him, but this time he's not going to allow her to rush things along. She had wanted it to be rough and quick earlier, it's what she needed. Now what they needed was slow and gentle, yet overwhelming and powerful—a testament to what he believed their love to be.
~END~
A/N: I would love to know what y'all think! Reviews are everything!