Prompts #30 "It's not what it looks like…" & #47 "No one needs to know."
The grey looming clouds seem to come out of nowhere. Jean is at the far edge of the garden when the skies open. She makes a mad dash for the house only to find her feet sliding out from under her. She lands in the mud on her backside in a comical fashion. By the time she makes it into the sunroom she is dripping from head to toe.
"Damn! What a mess I am." She heads to the laundry room peeling off her wet clothes. More concerned at getting the mud out of her new trousers before they are permanently stained than getting changed, she slips on one of Lucien's shirts that is freshly washed.
Lucien races onto the front porch shaking the rain off in a futile effort. "Bloody hell! Walk to Mr. Peter's, she said. It will do you good…" he grumbles entering the house. Setting down his medical bag he notices the mud on his shoes that seems to be seeping up his pant legs.
"Jean?" He calls out but the house is quiet except for the pounding of the rain.
He takes a step down the hallway but stops thinking the trouble he will be in tracking mud and water on the clean rugs. He looks around and calls out for Jean once more. Hearing no reply he quickly strips off his wet clothes in the entryway rather than make a mess in his room. He proudly makes his way to the laundry.
Jean steps into the kitchen, rounds the corner only to be knocked backwards by the man of her affection, standing dumbstruck half naked.
"LUCIEN!" She shrieks
Both blundering simultaneously, "It's not what it looks like!"
The shoulders of the shirt Jean is wearing are wet from her dripping hair. Lucien is leaving a puddle where he stands from the wet clothes he is clutching in front of his bare chest.
Again speaking at the same time, "the rain…" The initial shock and embarrassment quickly replaced with the humor of the situation.
"I guess we both were taken by surprise with this storm. I'll just take care of these wet things."
"Let me help." She takes the clothes from his arms. He thinks he catches a glimpse of mischief in her eyes that intrigues him.
He follows close, coming up behind her as she opens the washer to add his clothes to hers. Lucien is sure that she is leaning into his touch which encourages him to have some fun with his love. He begins peppering her neck with kisses. His hands working their way down her body while Jean gives the pretense that she cares about the laundry in front of her. Her soft mewing adds fuel to the fire that is in him.
Tracing his hand along her thigh he freezes when he encounters no barriers under his shirt that she wears. Jean feels his body tense and pulls away just enough so that she can turn to face him. He stutters, "Jean, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."
Her hand traces the scar on his abdomen, the sight where her fears of losing him were so close to reality. She wraps her arms around his torso, fingers ghosting over the scars of his past. Lucien stays frozen unsure of what he should do and not willing to ruin whatever intentions Jean has.
She leans in closer, rubs her cheek along his beard, breathing him in. "This is our home Lucien and I'm going to be your wife." She punctuates her statement with a deep kiss that ends too soon for him.
The rain continues to drown out the rest of the world as if only the two lovers exist. He swallows hard, praying to anyone that is willing to listen that he doesn't mess this up. Slowly he begins moving his hands along her bare skin once again. Looking deep into her eyes for any signs that he is utterly wrong but seeing nothing but love before him. "Yes, our home. No one needs to know."