He sleeps on his side, curled inwards with one arm tucked under his chin and the other extended across the bed. As he wakes, he stretches out to reach for her, jerking alert when he realizes she isn’t there.
One half of his hair is smoothed down, molded flat from the pillow; the other half all tousled and scruffy with sleep.
He feels the sheet on her side, noticing that its still warm — she hasn’t been awake for long. He twists around, looking to the door of the bathroom. It’s wide open, so he assumes she’s not in there.
He calls out to her, not wanting to get out of bed to go searching (he'd much rather stay in the warmth, preferably with her back by his side).
He calls out again, rubbing his eyes as he sits up straight, his back against the headboard
Eventually, he hears footsteps in the hall and she appears in the doorway, her robe tied loosely around her lean figure, a cup of tea in her hand.
She leans against the doorframe, smiling at him as she sips her tea. He grins back at her, taking in all the glory that is Jean Blake; soft curls framing her face, the slight curve of her hip.
He flings back the bed covers, patting the mattress in a rather obvious hint.
She can only chuckle at him, sipping the last of her tea as she pushes herself off the doorframe.
Placing her teacup on the bedside table, she removes her robe and rejoins Lucien in bed, immediately moving into his arms. He holds her so gently, pressing himself against her tenderly as he leans down to kiss her a sweet good morning. She can't help but run her fingers through his sleep-mussed hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging gently on the ends, enjoying the low, satisfied growl she receives.
He continues to kiss down the line of her neck, suckling on the smooth skin of her shoulder, wedging a leg in between both of hers; adding just that little bit extra weight, the kind that Jean adores.
Eventually, Jean’s low moans turn into louder groans, enough to bring Lucien back to her.
His eyes sparkle in the morning sunshine as he gives her nose one last kiss.
“Good morning, my love,” he whispers, settling himself fully against her, cradling himself between her thighs.
Catching his lips in another short but fierce kiss, she answers saucily, “It certainly is a good morning…from what I can tell.”
Seeing her cheeky smile, Lucien barks out a laugh then rolls them across the bed, settling her atop him; chest to chest, her legs straddling his sides as she stretches against him. He can’t keep his hands still, fingertips dancing across her stomach and sides, tripping over the divots of her spine before eventually settling against her lower back. A slight roll of her hips, a quick eyebrow raise and a deep kiss was enough to prompt him into action.
“My love,” he murmured, dropping a kiss high on her cheekbone, “these are,” another on her jaw, “the best of mornings.” He finishes with her sweet mouth, tasting faintly of tea and lemon.
Slowly pulling her lips from his she rose over him, the morning sun rising behind her shone through the window, outlining her body with rosy, softly gleaming light. He’d never stop being thankful that this stunning beauty was his.