The decision to share a bed was a surprisingly easy one. She'd already claimed partial ownership of one side of the bed given the number of times she had barged into his room to wake him from another nightmare, to soothe his fears and brush his hair from his forehead.
The ring on her finger was just the green light to move forward. In truth, neither one wanted to be apart from the other, not when they had come so close to losing out on being together at all. The first night spent together had been awkward up until the moment they were in each other's arms and then it was like coming home, both sighing and holding the other a little tighter.
She would never be over the sight of waking up to him in the morning: sunlight streaming in and highlighting the blonde in his hair, the sleepy way his eyes opened and immediately sought her out, the way he buried his face in her neck and inhaled, nuzzling her.
As soft and sweet as it was, it didn't change the fact they were both very much in love and desired the other very much. It had been years for both of them and each touch felt like an electric shock. It didn't change the fact that on more than one occasion, Lucien awoke spooned behind her, his morning erection pressed against her and shallowly rocking against her.
He'd always woken up and immediately stopped, rolling away and getting out bed and padding stiffly to the bathroom. Lucien had always come out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmuring his apologies.
She didn't know how to tell him she didn't want him to stop.
Lucien had been so good to her–following her lead at every turn, restraining his touch at her request, waiting to see what it was she wanted. He was so gentle with her; not wanting to scare her away.
But Jean was braver than he gave her credit for and since the decision to leave the church to fully embrace her life with Lucien, she felt oddly invincible. And so, a plan was formed.
The next morning, she awoke to Lucien pressed against her, erection pressed against her buttocks. Except this time, before he could roll away, she grasped the arm wrapped around her middle and held on, keeping him against her.
"Jean?" His voice was still raspy with sleep and the oddly gravely tone shot arousal straight through her.
She licked her lips and half-turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You don't have to run to the bathroom, Lucien. I'm not a blushing virgin."
Jean watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed heavily, looking at her through hooded eyes. "Jean, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I'm your fiancée. I'm going to be your wife. And I want to bring you pleasure." She tightened her hold on his arm. "I'm not saying I'm ready for, for everything right now. But I want to make you happy."
"Oh, love, you don't need to do this. You do make me happy."
Jean rolled her eyes, smiling. She really was marrying the gentlest, most stupid man. Reaching behind her, she reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around his erection through his sleeping pants.
Lucien involuntarily thrust into her hand, moaning. "Jean!"
She gave him a gentle squeeze, watching as his face screwed up in pleasure, his mouth dropping open in a soundless gasp. Releasing him, she turned back in his arms and he fell upon her, mouth covering hers and tongue plunging into her mouth–all traces of his previous gentle kisses gone and only the urge to take in its place.
His hand palmed at her breast, cupping and squeezing, eliciting a moan from Jean. She clutched at his shoulders, her legs falling open to cradle him between her thighs. Jean could feel his hardness pressed against her center through her undergarments and she moaned his name, lost in a haze of pleasure, "Lucien…"
Lucien's hips thrust against her, instinctively seeking the heat and friction her body offered. His mouth was hot and searching and pressing kiss after kiss to her lips, the curve of her jaw, her cheek before finally burying his face into her neck, sucking a red mark into her skin.
Jean loved the heavy weight of him pressing her into the mattress, the feel of his teeth nipping at her skin, the spike of pleasure spreading through her with each of his thrusts against her, rubbing against her clit with each thrust.
His hand slipped beneath her nightgown and his fingers ghosted over her warm skin, drumming against her ribs and coming up to palm her breast. The feel of her bare breast in his palm had him gasping and he tore his mouth away from its exploration of her body.
Propping himself up on one arm, he looked down at her, eyes wild with desire, hips frantically thrusting against her. Jean's cheeks were flushed red with desire and her neck was peppered with rapidly darkening marks courtesy of his teeth. She arched up into his touch, gasping.
"That's it, love. Let me make you feel good." Another thrust and a squeeze of her breast, thumb brushing over her erect nipple and causing another wave of desire to course through her.
He kissed her again, stroking his tongue over the roof of her mouth and memorizing the taste of her. Jean's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer, encouraging every thrust, every touch.
The combination of his cock pressing against her center, the weight of his body pressing her down, his thumb on her nipple, and his mouth on hers: it was overwhelmingly stimulating and she was close to tipping over into oblivion.
From the picked up pace of Lucien's thrusting, she knew he was close too. She carded her hands through his hair, forcing him to look at her. "Look at me, Lucien. I want to see you come apart for me. That's it, take what you need, love."
He whimpered, "Want you to feel good, too."
She tightened her legs around his waist, nodding. "I do, love. You're making me feel this good. This is all because of you." She scraped her nails against his scalp, causing him to shudder. "I love you."
Those words–the reaffirmation that she loved him–was enough to send him flying over the edge. He gasped and thrusted once more, his vision temporarily blacking out as he came in his sleeping pants, the sticky warmth spreading against his thighs.
He pressed lazy kisses to her neck and eyebrow and forehead and nose and lips, murmuring Love you softly, over and over again. He pulled away, looking at her with hazy eyes, smiling softly. "You didn't…?" he trailed off, questioningly.
She shook her head, cupping his cheek. "No, but I enjoyed myself. This was for you, love. Besides," she added, cheekily. "You can just owe me."
Lucien dropped another kiss to her nose and muttered, "Deal," before rolling off of her, looking down at the stain on the front of his sleeping pants. He grimaced. "I'll just pop off to the bathroom and, uh, take care of this."
Jean watched him from the bed, nightdress hiked up and her body bearing evidence of his touch. Yes, tomorrow morning would be a new day after all and she knew exactly where she could put that mouth of his to work…