A/N: M-Rating

XXXIV

When Jean woke again, it was very dark. Her head hurt a bit and she was quite hungry. But other than that, she felt perfectly well for the first time since Christmas.

"Jean?"

She reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. Lucien was sitting in the chair of her vanity, watching over her. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Very late," he replied. "But your fever broke a few hours ago. How are you feeling?"

"All better, I think. I could use that water and toast now, though."

He stood up. "Let me get you some fresh," he offered.

"No, this is fine," she insisted. She gulped down the rest of the water in the glass, after which Lucien did insist on going to get her more. While he was gone, she wolfed down those three slices of toast left on the plate. Yes, she was feeling much better.

"Better?" he asked, giving her the fresh water and coming to sit beside her on the edge of the bed again.

She drank down the water quickly and handed him back the empty glass. "Yes. Although I can tell I sweated my way through that fever, goodness," she said, feeling extremely unpleasant with the dried sweat sticking her pyjamas to her skin.

"Why don't you go take a bath, and I'll change the sheets for you. I assume you've got an extra set?" he offered.

It was extremely sweet of him, how he wanted to help take care of her. It was a nice change of pace, after the months she'd spent taking care of him. But now that she was feeling very much herself again, Jean did not need him to do things for her. "Why don't we change the sheets together and then you can join me in the bath?" she countered.

The grin on his face was priceless. Oh how she loved him!

They made quick work of the bed between the two of them. It would be wonderful to slip into clean sheets later…together. Though Jean did have a feeling that if she still felt awake and energized like this after their bath, they'd probably be dirtying up these sheets in no time.

Lucien lay in the bath with Jean between his legs, her back resting against his chest. He wanted to be gentle with her, to let her relax after her illness. Nothing would be worse to his mind than getting himself excited only to be let down and left feeling guilty for pushing her too far. And so he just held her in his arms, content to be close to her. The intimacy of being naked in the bath together with the bright light of the bathroom was quite nice, actually. It was dark outside and the world was still. After all, it was the middle of the night. Everything felt quiet and soft, and being in the warm water with Jean was more than he could have ever dreamed.

But then Jean shifted slightly in his embrace. Her bum brushed up against his flaccid cock, sending a jolt right through him. She must have known what she was doing because she did it again and a small hum and low giggle came out of her.

"You minx!" he laughed.

She turned her head to press a kiss to his jaw. "I'm just glad I'm feeling better. And I don't think I ever expected to get to have you in the bath with me. I think we're lucky for the opportunity."

He gave a growl in response. "Very lucky." With that, his hands moved from where they had rested on her belly. One travelled up to massage one of her breasts and the other travelled down to seek between her legs.

Jean sighed in appreciation, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as she enjoyed his ministrations. Lucien used that strategic angle to kiss up and down her neck.

As he continued on, she let out little gasps and moans. With every sound, he sucked harder on her pale, beautiful neck. With every twitch of her hips, he increased the friction of his thumb and the speed of his fingers thrusting and curling inside her. And with every brush of her bum against his hardening length, he squeezed her breast just a bit rougher.

On and on they went like this. He delighted in every reaction she had. The idea that the stern, buttoned up woman who had scolded him as a drunkard and sat as a pious parishioner in his Mass could be so wanton and beautiful like this was the greatest gift he could imagine. And that he, lonely and sad and broken failure of a priest that he was, could be the one to bring out this glory in her? It was unthinkable. And yet perfectly correct. Nothing in the world could be more right than this, than he and Jean exploring these fleshly delights together.

At last, she came hard against his hand, crying out his name from the back of her throat and arching her back as the pleasure pulsed through her body. The water in the bath had slopped off the side, but it thankfully wouldn't bother the pristine white tiled floors.

Jean fell back, boneless and sated. But Lucien was not nearly finished with her yet. As carefully as he could, he moved her off him so he could stand up. The bathmat was sopping wet but still provided him just enough traction on the floors. And then with very little effort indeed, Lucien scooped Jean up from the bath and carried her into the bedroom, dripping water all the way.

She was flying. Her body was heavy but weightless and she was flying. She felt the bulk of Lucien's strong, muscular arms. There was a chill in the air from their wet bodies. And when he set her down on the clean bedsheets, getting everything as wet as they were, she could not care in the least.

Jean blinked her eyes open and grinned up at him. He stood there with water droplets glistening all over the ridges of his hard body, sparkling in the dim light from her bedside lamp. For a man who had lived and been hurt as much Lucien had, he was still the very picture of an Adonis. Her mighty Hercules, her triumphant Achilles. She reached her arms out to him, beckoning him into her loving embrace.

Lucien smiled and climbed onto the bed on top of her. Their wet skin slid seductively as he kissed her deeply. The taste of his tongue was the heady drug habit she never wanted to shake. She felt, in times like this, when they were in the midst of making love, that she wanted for nothing when he was with her like this. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress and the power of his hips cradled between her thighs, this was the rightest thing in all the world. Surely it must be.

He slipped inside her without any effort at all. Her body was wet and ready for him, inside and out. "God, Lucien!" she moaned, feeling him fill her and stretch her with every thick inch he possessed.

His pace began slowly, dragging his cock against her inner walls. Jean dug her fingers into his broad shoulders. Lucien's hot breath against her neck made her shiver with want.

"Harder," she begged, "Please!"

Lucien was never one to deny her, not when they were in bed together. He thrust harder and faster, pounding into her with a frenzied abandon. He built her up and up and up and then…

She was flying again. She may have screamed out his name, she did not know. Lucien was unrelenting until at last, he too tumbled over the edge of the abyss with her. He collapsed on top of her, unable to hold himself up any longer. Jean's legs fell from where they'd been wrapped around his waist. The both of them lay there, panting with hearts thundering in their chests.

When he was able, Lucien rolled over onto his back. Jean was bereft from the loss of him inside her body, but of course they could not remain entangled like that forever. He reached out to her, not letting the connection between them be severed. She laced her fingers with his. She did not have the strength to do anything else just yet.

"I've never fully understood the sacrament before," he said, his voice still breathless.

"What do you mean?" Jean turned her head to look at him, for it was all she could manage just then. Her body was still humming as the pleasure of her climax slowly drifted away.

He turned as she did and smiled. "Being inside you is more blessing than anything else I've ever experienced in all my life. I feel like God himself."

"Lucien, that's blasphemy," she chided, laughing anyway. Nothing could make her cross right now.

His expression turned serious. He rolled over onto his front so he could face her properly. "Everything about me is blasphemy, Jean. You and I, we are the most sacred and the most profane thing there's ever been."

She searched his eyes, seeing the clear, bright blue staring at her without a hint of jest or irony. "You say things like that and I somehow believe you. Why is that?"

He smiled softly. "Maybe it's because you love me."

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. She lifted her head just enough to kiss him gently. "That must be it. I do love you."

Jean and Lucien did not sleep much that night. Once they cleaned themselves up and tidied the bathroom and got into bed, it was nearly morning. And Lucien needed to get back to the rectory and make sure things at St. Catherine's were all in order. He doubted anyone needed him, but this had been the first night in memory that he had spent away from his church, and though it had been for the best reason he could contemplate, he did not much like being away so long.

He got up when the sun was just starting to properly find its home in the sky, just after nine. Jean was still dozing beautifully beside him, but she half-woke when he had to take his arms away from her body.

"Shall I make breakfast?" she asked sleepily. When she shifted, he could see the red and purple lovebites he'd left all over her pale neck. He smiled proudly at his handiwork.

"No, love, you stay in bed. Stay home and rest today. We can get back to normal tomorrow, alright?" he whispered, kissing her cheek. After all, she'd need a day for those marks to fade a bit.

Jean yawned and nodded and rolled over to go back to sleep.

Lucien could not help watching her for just a moment. She was so beautiful, his Jean. And she was his now. Well and truly his. Heart and body and soul, he knew. She wouldn't have allowed these things between them to happen if that weren't so. And it was just as well, as every part of him belonged to her, too.

He dressed quickly and quietly, kissing her one last time before slipping out of the room with his medical bag packed in his hand. Before he left, Lucien wrote a note on the pad by the phone in the kitchen, reminding Jean to stay home and he would see her tomorrow and to call him if she needed anything. He left his phone number and an X at the bottom of the note.

It was already warm outside when he walked out of Jean's front door. He closed the door gently behind him, hoping it would not wake her. He took a deep breath of the beautiful fresh summer air and he smiled.

"Good morning, Father Blake!"

Lucien turned at the sound of his name and smiled at the owner of that voice. "Good morning, Joseph," he said, greeting the Collins boy.

Little Joseph came over to the picket fence separating the Collins' front yard from Jean's. "What are you doing at Mrs. Beazley's house?" he asked curiously.

"Mrs. Beazley was sick with the flu. And since she lives by herself, I came over yesterday to help take care of her."

"What did you do?"

"I sat with her to keep her company and got water for her when she was thirsty, and we prayed together." In a way, that was an outright lie. Lucien did try not to lie when he didn't absolutely have to. But really, making love to Jean was a benediction all its own. Nowadays, it was Lucien's preferred form of prayer.

"Is she feeling better now?" Joseph asked with concern.

Lucien nodded. "Much better. She's going to rest at home for today, but I'm sure she'll be right as rain tomorrow."

"Do you think she would like it if I made a get-well card for her?"

"You know, Joseph, I think she'd love that," Lucien told the boy. It absolutely warmed his heart the way the children loved Jean. And he knew that the Collins family had been such good friends to Jean since she had moved here. That was good. He wanted that for her. Friends and a community. Good and happy lives were made of such things.

"I'll have Maggie help me. She's good at drawing," Joseph said excitedly.

"That's a wonderful idea," Lucien encouraged. "Now, I've got to go back to St. Catherine's now, but I'll see you when catechism starts back up next week."

"Bye Father Blake!"

Lucien waved to Joseph and set off down the road back to the church. He felt happy. He felt good. But there was something in the back of his mind, a little voice he was trying his best to tamp down that warned that something might be coming.