Have we had a fic about Jean being **loud**? Like descriptively, I can hear her?
Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve written descriptive het sex? Do you? Answer: a long-ass time. It’s awful. I hope you like it.
There’s sex in this, guys, m’kay?
Anyways, here’s Wonderwall.
It hadn’t been this way with Christopher, but somethinginside of Jean has since shifted, and she’s no longer an innocent farm girl. Now,she’s a woman, and if she’s wanton, if desiring her husband makes her lustful,makes her a sinner, well, she’ll gladly accept the label.
A steady thrum of desire beats out a tune beneath herskin, in time with the way Lucien’s stubble prickles at her shoulder, even ashe captures a patch of skin between his teeth, low enough to be hidden by hercollar later, and she lets out a moan, throaty and breathless all at once. His palmsburn a path up her thighs, the tips of his fingers tracing out the faint lines ofher stretch marks and her hips twitch as he finds what he’d been seeking for.
Once, she might’ve been embarrassed by her stretchmarks, but now, after he’d paid them so much attention through the months abroad,and here in their bed, after he’d kissed every one of them, traced them withhis lips, like a path on a map, she can’t help but to moan out an approving yes, Lucien.
His fingers are gentle and warm and wet with her and anotherpulse of desire threads through her as he lets out a growl against her neck,and Jean lets out a needy gasp, even as his fingers seek out her entrance, not forthe first time tonight, slipping through her slick folds with a precision thathas her wound so tightly she might burst right then.
Later, Jean might be embarrassed at the way her criesecho off of the ceilings of their studio, but for now, her mouth falls open andthe sweetest song fills the air. Between the way Lucien’s sweet mouth tracesout the lines of her collarbones and his deft fingers playing her just so, it’sa wonder she can breathe, but then, then her fingers knot in the bedsheets,sweat-soaked and wrinkled, and her lungs seize and itsalltoomuch and she begs, begs.
Lucien lets out a pleased grunt, and she feels himhard against her thigh, and she wonders then if it’d been her arousal, orperhaps her cries, that stirred him so quickly again. Lucien brushes his thumbagainst her clit just right, and a shout, sudden and short, fills the air. Jeanfeels him twitch against her, and perhaps she’ll use that to her advantagelater, but for now, she needs him. Hehisses when she scrambles to grab his shoulders, her painted nails biting intohis skin. She traces out the sinew and muscle of his shoulders, broad andinviting and capable of so much, but here, now, his entire self is dedicated toloving her, and the thought alone is nearly enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Please, Lucien. Please,” she sighs out, and it’s brokenand messy, and it doesn’t sound right to her ears, more rambling noises than anything,but he seems to understand, because then, in an instant, blue eyes are finding hersand his hands, still moist with her desire, are clasping around her wrists. Ina breath, his cock is inside of her, his length warm and her core wanting.
Jean wants to press a hand to her mouth, wants to biteher palm against the pleasure that demands a tithe in the form of a breathlessshout in the warm air. She can’t, not with Lucien above her, his own soft handsgentle around her wrists. He’d let go, she knows, if she had half a mind toask, but even as she opens her mouth, even as her hips meet his in a frantic rhythm,one that they’ve perfected in the months since their vows, a long, hoarse moanescapes instead.
As she shuts her eyes, breathless against the torrentof arousal that threatens to tip her over the edge, she thinks she mightremember the last image for the rest of her life– Lucien, above her, wild-eyed, soft curls pliant with sweat,blue eyes sparkling, even as he watches her every expression, the swirls of gold-leafabove their heads like stars, and warm sheets at her back.
Lucien lets out a huff, and he quivers, and Jean feelshis hands trembling with the effort of staying upright, and then, his fingersare searching out her clit, and it’s all she can do not to whine with pleasure,even as he finally draws out her desire with a flick of his thumb and a finalthrust that seeks to finish her.
Lucien!Jean’sbody coils, as though a spring is wound to the brink of snapping, and then, andthen, oh, there! Jean’s thighs shake with the exertion, her muscles in hercalves suddenly tremoring and dangerously close to seizing, and her coreclenches, launching her into a long, blissful moment of blessed release.
Her skin buzzes with the aftermath of her orgasm, anda heady thrill overtakes her as Lucien empties into her soon after, his bodytaut.
“You’re loud, Jeannie,” Lucien mumbles into her neck,where he’s slumped on top of her, and Jean laughs. Later, she’ll blush at thethought of how her shouts must have echoed through their home, but for now, shelaughs loudly in the quiet, and traces his temple with her lips.
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