A/N: M-rating

Lucien pulled back suddenly. Jean's eyes were still closed, but she blinked them open, dazed by the overwhelming passion of their kiss, and he smiled to see her looking just so.

"Come on," he beckoned, releasing her from his arms and grabbing her hand.

"Where are we going?" she asked, still rather breathless.

Lucien glanced back to her with a grin. "I've not been in this house in twenty years, but all I want to see of it is your favorite part."

She looked at him questioningly, not quite understanding what he meant by that. It was soon made clear, however, as he led her through doorways that he'd known since childhood despite not having been through them in so long. He knew where he was going, and she quickly understood where he was taking her.

When they arrived, Lucien stopped stock still and stared in awe. "Oh Jean," he breathed.

Jean held his hand still and wrapped her other arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder. He could feel her touch him in a way he never quite could before, and he was sure that she was reveling in the same new feelings. But he was momentarily distracted from her touch by the overwhelming beauty that surrounded them.

Lucien had enjoyed for the last…however long he and Jean had known each other…hearing her talk about the sunroom and her flowers. He had asked her to describe things to him, since he had been trapped in the studio and unable to experience anything outside its walls. And really, he'd just liked listening to her talk. She had such a love of her flowers and of tending to them, and seeing the way she would light up when talking about them was probably one of the things that led Lucien to fall in love with her. And when he had tried to encourage her to regain her life and tend to her flowers here, he had enjoyed imagining her in this setting.

But nothing in Lucien's imagination could have prepared him for the lush Eden before him. In his memory, the sunroom was a bare little sitting room with some neglected wicker furniture bleached by the sunshine coming through the wide windows looking out to the garden. Here and now, he witnessed the majesty of all of Jean's hard work. He couldn't believe she had ever neglected her flowers, not with the state of them now. There was so much greenery, so many magnificent blooms, so much heady perfume of it all, he hardly knew where to look.

"I can see why this is your favorite part of the house," Lucien finally said, tearing his eyes away from it all to look back at her.

She smiled. "I do love it here. And it was nice to have something to do when you were with your parents these last few days. I hadn't given the flowers the attention they deserved for quite some time, but I think everything is coming back well now."

"I hope I never give you reason to turn away from this ever again. Away from anything. I want more than anything in the world, Jean, for you to be fulfilled and happy. And I know you were happy with me in the studio," he said quickly, cutting off the protest he knew was coming from her. "But I hated seeing the way you gave up so much. So much of yourself. I love you so much, but in loving you, I worried I was strangling you, slowly smothering you and turning you into a ghost like me." The words fell from his lips, the worries and fears of these last weeks—months?—all bubbling up without him being able to stop it.

Jean gave another smile, but different this time. She shook her head and pulled Lucien back into her arms. "You weren't smothering me. You held my heart in your freezing hand so gently. And I was happy to give it. I did lose myself, it's true, but as I've told you before, Lucien, I am no tragedy, and I refuse to let you treat me like one. Besides, I have you here with me now, flesh and blood and real and a blazing fire of warmth at last. And I never have to choose ever again. I have you here in the sunroom with me."

Her words filled him with warmth he'd not felt in so long. She was right, he was flesh and blood and finally could experience the heat he always desperately wanted for her, from her, with her. And he did not quite have the words for it anymore.

Lucien's lips moved over Jean's in a practiced rhythm, reveling in their renewed passion once again. He could finally feel her and taste her and experience everything as though new. He bit her bottom lip before running his tongue over the bite to soothe her. He was rewarded by a breathy moan from her. Her hands clutched at his shirt, and Lucien was desperate to feel his skin on hers.

He grabbed the fabric of her blouse and pulled it free from where it was tucked neatly into her skirt. Jean followed his lead, breaking their kiss to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Their upper halves were clumsily bared through shaking, eager hands and breathy laughs that they shared. Lucien took in the familiar view of Jean's body, seeing her through new eyes. Her breasts were pert and aching for his touch. Lucien eyed her hungrily. He was already partially hard in anticipation.

Jean placed her palms on his broad chest, and his eyes rolled back in his head to experience the full feeling of her touch for the first time. She began kissing and sucking and nipping and licking down his neck and chest, grazing her teeth over his nipples. He inhaled sharply, everything so much more heightened than even things from the memory of life had been. She smiled against his skin and teasingly pressed herself against him where his erection twitched against her abdomen, still covered by her smart wool skirt. Jean dragged her fingernails gently down his waist and hips as she lowered herself down on her knees.

"I want to feel you," she murmured as she unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down and taking his hard cock in her hand.

Lucien nearly passed out then and there, feeling her truly touch him like that for the first time. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tried to anchor himself. She moved her mouth on him and made him groan with every lick of her tongue, every sensation her lips created. But all too soon, Lucien had to pull her off of him. It was far too much for him to cope with.

She seemed to understand. He helped her back up to her feet, and with a slight giggle, Jean allowed him to wrap her in his arms and begin kissing her again. His hands wandered the expanse of her back, feeling the softness of her skin, the magnificent warmth of her.

He pulled her skirt down her shapely hips, unhooked her stockings, and pushed everything he could reach off her legs while tracing the gorgeous tendons of her neck with his lips. She dropped down a few inches when she kicked her clothing and shoes off her feet. Lucien lifted her up. She moaned loudly, linking her ankles around his torso. He went back to kissing her messily. He was utterly addicted to the taste of her. And, come to think of it…

Lucien turned them around, sitting her down on the workbench. He moved his kisses down her body, as she had done for him. Jean arched into him, pulling his face against her breasts. He teased her with his tongue while his hand went to her thighs. Jean spread her legs for him. His thumb immediately began to stroke her, causing her to shudder and moan. He could feel that she was already starting to get wet. He could feel her.

He lifted his head to kiss her lips in rhythm of his finger pumping in and out of her. Eventually, he couldn't resist breaking away from her to bend down and taste her well and truly for the first time. His nose nuzzled her curls as his tongue lapped between her folds. The way she felt, the way she moved, it was all so much more than anything they'd done before. He grinned against her as she cried out his name. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them to feel her contract against him, moving her through her climax, her body magnificently wet and hot and perfect.

Jean struggled to catch her breath as she pulled him up by his hair. She grinned, eyes bright with desire. Lucien gave himself a few strokes and lined himself up at her entrance. Jean threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her as he swiftly thrust inside her. He groaned at the sensation. Their lovemaking had been wonderful from the first, but this was something else. Something otherworldly. He buried his face into her shoulder, biting and sucking on her flesh. Jean's fingernails dug into his back as he stroked her to a second orgasm just minutes after her first.

"God, I love you, Lucien," Jean moaned.

Her admission threw him over the edge as he burst inside her. His knees felt weak, but he held her close, kissing her. In his exhaustion, his mouth was messy over hers, but she matched his open-mouthed kisses, stroking his tongue with hers, allowing him to convey his overwhelming love and passion for her.

And when they were sated and exhausted and the perfume of their sex mingled with that of the flowers, they landed in the pile of their clothes. A comfortable silence fell between them there, wrapped up together and each feeling wonderfully covered by the other and their love, the future bright before them for the very first time.