#ignore that flushed emote. whoopsies

[vecnawrites]

Penny’s Procreation Protocol

Another Patreon Reward! Don’t worry, these will be slowing down now, since I realized I made a massive whoopsie: I was posting August Rewards in August. When I hadn’t gotten the August pay yet. (Facepalm). So, next month will be more relaxed since the rewards for September won’t be posted until early October! Anyway, this one involves Penny getting some ‘upgrades’ and Yang and Nora taking advantage. Hope you enjoy!

Penny Polendina was a perfectly normal girl (hic!), thank you very much! Especially after her father had approved of her new bodily upgrades and they were installed into her body! She was now the proud owner of a fully functional penis (complete with testicles!), vagina, womb, and ovaries, and much larger breasts that came with the ability to lactate! Even better, pleasure circuits had been installed, allowing her to feel tactile sensation when they were touched!

Her father had dubbed it the ‘Procreation Protocol’. And it was to allow her to get closer to people without worry of them thinking her odd, even if perfectly normal girls (hic!) tended to only have a vagina, there were more than enough that had penises as well!

However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t...kinks. Ones that Penny, in all of her innocence and naivete, didn’t know about or understand...yet.

Her first inclination that something was amiss was when she needed to get dressed for class.

As she pulled her green silk panties up, the ginger-haired girl squeaked as her balls trembled as the silk rubbed over them, making the skin tighten, bolts of pleasure making her stop, quivering in place as the sudden intense sensation filled her body, red filling her cheeks as the conduits turned on and low heat suffused into them. Diagnostic information scrolled down her visual field.

Pleasure Circuits Heightened. Recommend Care When Moving. Penny blinked, but carefully pulled her panties up fully, shivering as the silk teased her body (thankfully, her vagina was completely covered and hidden away by her testicles).

However, Penny found the same issue happened with her bra. The circuits that acted like nerve endings in her new breasts lit up like fireworks on a night sky as she tried pulling her bra over them, her nipples swelling outwards in seconds and small beads of white fluid beginning to weep from the pink tops. Penny flushed as pleasure continued to build within her, her penis twitching and growing a bit in her underwear.

Further attempts only made her cock get harder and harder, and eventually, Penny had to toss her now ill fitting bra away with burning cheeks, residing to get Friend Ruby and ask for her help underwear shopping later.

Thankfully, her uniform top still fit her new dimensions, even if it was a bit strained and small spots were forming from her leaking milk...which were thankfully hidden by her uniform jacket, even if the resulting tightness only made her internal diagnostics blare more warnings at her!

Warning! Pleasure Circuits At 25%! Advisory Actions: Removal Of Pressure On Affected Areas!

Penny ignored the diagnostic readout, knowing that was no excuse for missing class, and perfectly normal girls like her (hic!) couldn’t miss classes over such a simple thing as ill fitting clothing items!

Taking some careful steps, Penny made her way out of her room and towards her first class of the day: Grimm Studies with Professor Port.

~

Penny shifted uncomfortably, pressing her legs together in a vain attempt to keep her cock from growing any harder. Warnings were going off one after another on her visual heads-up display, but she was ignoring them and attempting to focus on the class...despite the fact that she knew the actual material already, having it downloaded into her brain. So, she was certain that the next few hours were going to be very boring…

Oh, how little Penny knew…

~

Penny blinked rapidly, shifting and accidentally hitting her breasts against the edge of the desk, sending a flare of warning across her HUD and making her optics cross, barely noticing the two forms sliding into the seats on either side of her and boxing her in.

As the pleasure faded, she glanced to see that both Friend Ruby’s older sister Yang was sitting on one side of her, while Friend Nora was on her other side, both of them smiling widely and leaning towards her. She failed to notice the wicked intent of the returning smiles of her friends.

Shaking a bit, Penny plastered a smile on her face. “H-Hello, Friends!” H-How a-are y-you do-doing t-today?” she forced out through a stutter, hoping that they didn’t notice anything odd.

“We’re doing wonderfully, Penny~” Yang said, leaning towards her and placing her hand on Penny’s knee, Nora following and touching her fellow ginger-haired girl’s other knee. Both stroked her synthetic skin with their thumbs. “Yeah, things are great~” Nora purred.

“We couldn’t help but notice something interesting~!” Penny was unable to stop the pair as they pulled her legs open and apart. Her cheek servos flooded with heat and the small red LED’s turned on again as her skirt tented, her cock popping halfway out of her panties, though she was thankfully still covered.

“That you suddenly have a nice, yummy cock~” Nora purred out, her hand sliding up Penny’s thigh, along with Yang’s on the other side, slipping underneath Penny’s plaid skirt and snagging the elastic of her panties and beginning to tug on them, pulling them down.

Penny’s mind whirled, wondering why her two friends were doing this, while trying to press her rear end more firmly onto the chair so her panties wouldn’t move. She couldn’t afford to be disrobed by anyone! Perfectly normal girls (hic!) wouldn’t allow their panties to be removed in class, even if the ones removing them were their friends!

Penny’s eyes widened as twin hands moved up and slapped her covered breasts, sending her pleasure circuits into overdrive, making her go completely still, bright green eyes wide and mouth clenched shut to avoid making noise...although a squeak eeped out, unbidden, the wet spots on her chest spreading outwards.

“Someone’s sensitive~” Nora giggled as she and Yang tugged, the silken panties she wore sliding down her thighs and catching on Penny’s knees, but the pair edged them over and shoved them down the ginger-haired android’s legs, leaving her bare beneath the shirt...which popped up as her erect penis sprung free from its bindings, bobbing and twitching in the air of the room.

Penny opened her mouth, only to freeze as their hands suddenly moved, cupping her new genitalia and stroking it gently, Nora’s hand wrapping around her penis, and Yang’s hand cupping her balls and stroking and rolling them in her hand.

Warning alarms blared in her head as her internal diagnostics went haywire, her body shuddering at the massive influx of pleasure shooting through her circuits.

She heard her friends whispering, but it was hard to stay focused as she received warning after warning that she was about to ejaculate...only for them to suddenly stop. She couldn’t stop the whine this time, making both of her friends smirk at Penny. “Come on, Pen-Pen, let’s ditch~” Nora cooed.

~

“Hah...hah...ah…” Penny panted as she stood naked under the spray of the shower, Yang and Nora next to her, squished together. Yang was pressed flush behind her, her hands cupping and squeezing and toying with Penny’s breasts, watching her milk squirt out, while Nora was crouching in front of her, happily fondling her cock, balls, and occasionally slipping behind the plump pouch and rubbing her pussy.

Penny was paralyzed by the immense pleasure that her friends gave her by only teasing her with her hands, giving her great pleasure that she had never felt before...but never letting her cum. They always stopped before she orgasmed.

“Oooh~” Nora giggled, watching Penny’s thick shaft twitch and quiver, slinging strings of precum across the wall, floor, and her shoulder and arms. It smelled heady, and she licked her lips, leaning forwards to take a taste…

Crack! Nora squealed as Yang’s hand lashed out and slapped one of her tits, causing it to smack against her other one, making her shake from the unexpected pleasure before she pouted up at a scowling Yang, red faced and panting. The blonde shook her head making the plump ginger-haired girl pout harder.

Yang pressed her cock (bigger than Penny’s, but with less girth) against Penny’s rear. “You know something, Penny?” she hummed as she toyed with the young woman’s leaking tits (she was still miffed that she now had the smallest pair between the three of them!), plucking and pulling at the androids nipples, loving the myriad of emotions that flowed over her face. “Nora and I found ourselves in something of a rut recently~ And you fit the bill to fix that~”

Nora giggled, picking up where Yang left off, “After all, bringing another in only spices things up! Not to mention, think on how good it would feel~” she cupped Penny’s heavy balls and trailed a single finger along the underside of her shaft, watching the android’s legs tremble with glee, “Impaling me on your cock, while Yang fucks you with her own?”

Penny whined loudly. She had been too polite to ask her friends to stop touching her, but this-this was too much! Warnings blared across her HUD wildly, one after another, her pleasure circuits overloading at the constant teasing that she had been enduring over the last hour (Seventy-Seven Minutes, to be precise), and her body was on the brink!

Unknown to Penny, a small piece of programming connected to her new reproductive systems flickered on, and was running in the background. Her breasts bounced as she jerked and writhed in Yang’s and Nora’s holds, her eyes flickering and glitching...before turning from their normal emerald green color to a bright purple.

Unbidden, her mouth moved. “I’m Copulation Ready~♥♥!” her voice came out as a seductive, sultry croon rather than her normal, cheerful tone of voice, pulling small laughs from her new lovers as they shifted, feeling the tip of Yang’s shaft against her sensitive pussy, and staring into Nora’s impish eyes, their breasts squished together, and the tip of her own penis pressed against Nora’s plump, moist pussy lips.

“Good~” Yang purred, before she struck, thrusting into Penny with great force, pushing the shorter red-haired girl forwards...and making her cock slide into Nora’s slippery pussy.

Nora and Yang shared a grin as Penny quivered between them, purple eyes wide with shock, before they moved.

Penny was stuck between them, warning after warning flaring one after another as Yang and Nora fucked her from both sides, Yang claiming her pussy with her long cock like she owned it, while Nora flexed and moved her pussy along her fellow redhead’s cock as if she was milking it.

Penny was frozen, overloaded with pleasure, shrill warnings chirping in her head about the dangers of the amount of over stimulation she was experiencing, but there was nothing to be done. All she could do was tremble between them and be lost among the flood, barely clinging onto herself...although when both Yang and Nora began to play with her breasts, her grasp on reality was lost and she was swept fully away by the pleasure.

A keening wail escaped Penny’s lips as she finally came, her new pussy clamping down and her testicles pulsing, ejecting their payload into Nora...although despite the fact that she was coming hard, Yang and Nora had far more control and sexual stamina, and continued fucking Penny, not giving her a moment’s rest.

Finally, Penny slumped boneless, supported only by their grip, mumbling, “Cock...pussy...cum...fuck me...break me...make me your breeding toy...your little loving dildo…” the pair smiled at the fact that they had gotten the best toy they could ever ask for: a fully functional sexbot! And best of all, the only maintenance necessary was a nice fucking at least once a day!

A small price to pay, but one that the two would happily pay for sure. It wasn’t as if any of them had any complaints, after all!

[stonetop-nolwenn]

Fluff Take 2: A Trip to the Department of Backstory

So I’m rewriting the fluff piece from a while back because I wanted to do it Better, and ... it’s becoming very long. Like “I’ve got a six-part outline and these 1600 words are part one” long. “Noly obsessing over her life choices and convinced Clothilde will reject her” turned into “let’s take a nice long trip to the department of backstory” and I think I got lost there somewhere whoopsie-doodle.

1598 words that are substantially more proofread and coherent than our last outing.

The Red Band rode north.

Nolwenn tried to concentrate on the task at hand: Pico had written, requesting the Red Band’s assistance in peaceably (or perhaps not-so-peaceably) quashing the growing membership of the cult that had been forming in Stonetop. During their absence in the south the cultists had become emboldened, offering bloody sacrifices and defacing the altars of other gods. Pico was justifiably concerned that with the recent stirring of the Things Below this behavior had the potential for substantially worse outcomes than simply the lost lives of those unlucky enough to be selected as sacrifices. He’d used a lot of very dire words that she’d had to sound out, but it was the swearing at the end of the letter that had convinced her to bring her entire Band along. Pico only swore when shit was bad.

Which should have been enough to occupy her mind on the ride north, talking strategy and tactics with her generals (she had generals!) and filling them in on the state of the town as she’d last seen it. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the roll of letters in the bottom of her bag, and the gentle hand that had written them. Clothilde.

Nolwenn hadn’t planned to have any sort of emotional entanglement beyond good friends and compatriots. Amrita and her giant murder-cat Sita made excellent housemates, and they’d cooked and cleaned and taught each other things and told each other stories, as friends did. They’d fought together and nearly died together, and Nolwenn loved them and counted them among her very best friends. But neither Amrita nor Nolwenn had ever been interested in anything besides friendship. It would have been like having a crush on Brynmor, and while that seemed to be the fashion among both the very young women of Stonetop and the wisent herd, Nolwenn was hardly young and certainly not a wisent.

They’d gone on the run to Gordin’s Delve knowing it was important. Nolwenn and her friends went in to take down the mob boss who had kicked her out of the mining town in the first place for being an abolitionist, and who’d been calling for Nolwenn’s head as she’d begun making a name for herself in Stonetop. She’d walked in, bound, acting as bait while her friends set up an ambush and ultimately Kios had sniped the horrible woman between the eyes from a rooftop across the square.

But on their way home, they’d found the slaves: half a dozen of them, hiding out broken and shivering in the forest on the mountainside outside the Delve, choosing a slow death in the free air over bondage in the mines. Nolwenn had insisted they take the group into their care, setting them up in Stonetop. They were the first Hillfolk she’d been around in ... years, really, and she’d forgotten what it was like to truly be with your own people. She spent more and more time with them, despite the resentment of those who had been taken by the Red Band, and... something had happened. With Clothilde.

Clothilde was Yellow Band, taken by the Red Band and sold to the miners in Gordin’s Delve only a few months after Nolwenn had left. Like Nolwenn her skills tended toward fixing things, and they’d found themselves talking over a broken wagon axle or a busted ale tap in the public house more and more frequently. One day after Nolwenn and her friends had brought back a small herd of horses to be tamed, she’d asked Clothilde to come help her with them. It only made sense, of course, because the only people in town who knew how to deal with horses were her fellow Hillfolk and there was absolutely nothing untoward about asking for assistance – until they’d dismounted, flushed and laughing, and Clothilde had taken Nolwenn’s hand and Nolwenn had kissed her, in the field among the running horses and under the setting sun, and everything changed.

There’d been no hiding it from Amrita, who’d laughed at Nolwenn as she stumbled back home starry-eyed later that evening and told her to just have Clothilde move in already. After a few more such evenings, when it became harder and harder to say good night, Nolwenn gave in and Clothilde happily joined them in their little house overlooking the forest.

When Nolwenn came back from breaking the Road with a cadre of freed Hillfolk slaves, haunted eyes and a new name, Clothilde climbed into their sleeping loft and held Nolwenn against her until she stopped shaking. Nolwenn talked quietly for hours that night, about breaking the Road and breaking the chains and breaking the bonds she had had with her family. Clothilde talked, too, about how she’d struggled to reconcile the bloody daughter-of-Marc with the gentle hero who had insisted on saving her life and the lives of her companions. It was the first time she’d called Nolwenn a hero.

“Hero?” Nolwenn had asked with a wry laugh. She cradled Clothilde’s face in her hand, brushing her thumb down the dull red slave scar that ran from Clothilde’s hairline to her upper lip. “I might not have given this to you myself,” Nolwenn said in a low voice, “but my hands are definitely not clean.”

Clothilde caught Nolwenn’s wrist in her hand. “Hero,” she repeated quietly, kissing Nolwenn’s fingertips. “You saw what your Band was doing was wrong, and you not only left, you’re breaking chains faster than they can forge them.” She leaned in and draped Nolwenn’s hand around her shoulders. “You are my hero, and I’m never going to let you forget it,” she whispered against Nolwenn’s cheek. Nolwenn caught Clothilde’s lips with her own, and below Amrita quietly decided to go for a night patrol, half-dragging a playfully complaining Sita out behind her.

Some hero. Nolwenn shook herself out of her reverie. She and Amrita, along with Pico and Brynmor and Mouse and Kios, had gone on a routine trading run to Marshedge one early summer day and had never returned. They’d been stopped on the road by Green Band Hillfolk; the inter-band situation had escalated to the point of nearly all-out war. Nolwenn had opted to help, with lofty ideas of heroism in her head, but had only barely been able to stop a genocide. The Hillfolk had been decimated, and in desperation she’d had herself marked as a Red Band slave to infiltrate their camp. She’d killed two of the hieromonks, one with her bare hands, and had taken over Red Band leadership from a dying Marc as his blood soaked her hands and her clothes. I’m still just the bloody daughter-of-Marc.

Amrita had insisted that Nolwenn send a letter back to Stonetop, since as leader of the Red Band she was needed in the Steplands and wouldn’t be able to return with them. She’d painstakingly scratched out a page to Clothilde, wanting to say more but she was still so new to writing that the words just wouldn’t come. She’d sent it back with Amrita, her friends leaving her with bittersweet hugs.

In the weeks that followed, she’d nearly forgotten about the letter; there was so much cleanup to do with the Hillfolk. She’d called a second moot immediately, ironing out short-term plans for each band and some firmer alliances. The Stone Band was officially recognized; all Red Band slaves were emancipated and several other Bands followed suit. Implementing the changes took all her willpower and a good deal of charm, and she collapsed in her tent every night with only a quick, wistful thought of Clothilde before sleep claimed her.

She’d been out with the horses, appropriately, when a merchant had ridden up. “Nolwenn of the Red Band?” the merchant had asked. “A friend of yours in Stonetop sent this for you, if you can read it,” she sniffed as she tossed a tightly-rolled paper to Nolwenn and rode off. Nolwenn had seen Clothilde’s handwriting before, though she’d not been able to read it then. She unrolled the message and choked back a sob: the paper was covered with Clothilde’s delicate letters and they were all written for her. She batted away an interested horse that was trying to nibble the top corner of the letter and traced her finger slowly along the lines as she pieced together Clothilde’s words.

She tried again, later that night, to put her thoughts onto paper. She’d been gone over a year now, and while she missed Clothilde terribly, she wanted to make sure that she’d found a suitable family. After all, Nolwenn had twice robbed her of hers: once when the Red Band had taken Clothilde and sold her to Gordin’s Delve as a slave, and now again when Nolwenn had disappeared south and betrayed her by taking over leadership of the Band that Clothilde had once praised her for leaving.

Clothilde had begun her response by calling Nolwenn a dumbass, and then proceeded to completely ignore every question Nolwenn had asked. Nolwenn didn’t bring it up again, and they kept their correspondence to the more banal doings of Stonetop and the Steplands. Nolwenn saved every letter, ostensibly to practice reading, but in reality because they were the only piece of Clothilde that she still had.

She’s waiting to break my heart in person, Nolwenn realized with a jolt. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, watching the fields surrounding the Red Band’s horses become more and more familiar. Well, at least that means she’s found someone and she’s happy, Nolwenn thought. That’s all I wanted for her, anyway.

[professortennant]

whiskey whispers (a tdbm lucien/jean fic)--part 1

listen jean beazley is a lightweight and we have seen her canonically get drunk once and idk about you, but i’m at my friskiest, boldest, and bravest when i’m drunk and i suspect jean may be the same

1400 words, angst and then pure fluff, drunk!jean

Jean Beazley did not turn to alcohol often. No, not when there was so much that required her undivided attention and especially not when Lucien drank enough for the both of them. 

But she was leaving for Adelaide in a few days; Lucien could not look at her for more than a few moments at a time--always looking like he was biting his tongue and leaving things unsaid; and she was leaving behind her home and her family. And Lucien. 

It was this thought that drove her to the bottle tonight. The house was quiet,  with all of the residents out and about. Lucien and Charlie working late on a case and Mattie visiting her parents for the weekend. 

Settling down on the squishy couch in the living room with a heavy heart, she brought the fire in the grate roaring to life, and with a satisfying pop, the bottle of sherry was opened and the first glass poured. And then the second. And then the third...

An hour or so later, Lucien walked in the door. It was quite late and he was ready to make his apologies to Jean in the morning, knowing he should have called and told her he would be in late. He knew she worried and fussed over him.

To his surprise, as he stepped into the foyer, he saw the living room light on and the soft sounds of some jazz melody pouring from the radio. It wasn’t like Jean to be up this late. 

Rounding the corner, Lucien saw to his surprise Jean laid out on the couch, eyes closed and humming softly to herself, foot bouncing along in time with the trumpet. 

An empty bottle of sherry was standing on the side table and from what he could see, she had rummaged through his desk’s drawers to find his good bottle of scotch. 

“Jean?”

Jean’s eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up, the whiskey in her tumbler sloshing up the sides as she threw a sloppy grin his way. “Lucien! You’re home!”

Her words were slurred and her eyes unfocused. She stood up and made her way over to him, tripping over the rug and giggling. “Whoopsies!”

Lucien stepped forward to steady her, eyeing her flushed cheeks with amusement. “What’s all this then?”

Jean smiled at him, shrugging. “Taking a leaf out of your book, Lucien. If you drink enough, you can’t feel anything anymore. This is great, I don’t know why I don’t do this more often.”

Lucien furrowed his brow, confused. This wasn’t like Jean at all. He opened his mouth to push further, but the song on the radio changed--something upbeat and fast and Jean’s eyes widened, excited. Untangling herself from him arms, she stepped back, finishing off the last bit of whiskey in her glass, and she began to dance. Her hips swayed softly, head tilted back and eyes closed. 

“Dance with me, Lucien.”

Utterly bewildered, Lucien could only look on, taking in the way the firelight danced upon her skin, the way her bare feet sunk into the rug. Had he ever seen her bare feet before? It felt strangely intimate to know that her toenails were painted a deep red. 

He stepped forward, taking the glass from her hand before she lost her grip on it and it came shattering down onto the ground. Something was terribly wrong for Jean to be drinking like this and she was even more far gone than he thought if she was inviting him to dance in the living room.

He switched the radio off and turned to look at her, waiting. No matter how much he wanted to take her into his arms and do as she commanded and dance with her, she needed to sleep this off. They would talk in the morning.

Jean, on the other hand, did not appreciate Lucien’s actions. She turned on her heel, stumbling only slightly, hands on her hips and glared at him. 

“Lucien Blake, you turn that radio back on right now. And while you’re at it, you can pour me another drink. I’m not done yet.”

Lucien merely raised his eyebrows at her. “I think you are done, Jean. It’s quite late and you seem to have had quite enough. Now come on, it’s time for bed.” 

He offered her his hand, intending to lead her upstairs and put her straight to bed, but she ignored it, rolling her eyes. “Oh, so it’s alright if you drink yourself into a stupor and stay up half the night banging on that bloody piano, but I can’t have a sherry or two and dance in the living room?”

Before he could get a word in, she continued on, apparently having him in front of her seemed to have opened some sort of floodgate.

“And why do you care if I drink in the living room, eh? Suddenly you care what I do or don’t do? I’m leaving tomorrow, Lucien. Leaving. And you, you--”

The fight seemed to go out of her as quickly as it came. Tears sprung to her eyes and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “And you don’t seem to bloody care.” She looked at him, eyes full of hurt.

“Why don’t you care, Lucien? Leaving this house, my home--leaving you--is unbearable. And you,” she finishes bitterly. “You say ‘Goodnight, Jean.’ As if you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

She swayed on the spot and Lucien stood quickly, crossing the room to steady her. Jean attempted to push him away, to hold up her hands and keep him from touching her. If he touched her, if she felt his hands on her skin, she wasn’t sure she would be able to control herself. 

The alcohol was rushing to her head and making her lips loose. “No, Lucien, please.”

But Lucien wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her into a hug. He smoothed a hand over her curls--loose and imperfect. She sniffled into his chest. 

Lucien wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how much he cared, how much he still had to say to her. The words were on the tip of his tongue, he just needed to find the right words. This was too important to get wrong. 

Before the words could come, Jean was speaking again, her words muffled into his shirt. “Lucien?”

“Yes, love?” He winced, hoping she was not offended by the endearment. 

“I think I’m drunk.” She sounded absolutely miserable and Lucien was tempted to laugh. His Jean was quite the lightweight and her emotions seemed to be whiplashing from one end of the spectrum to the other. 

“I think you are, too, my dear. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed, yeah?”

He felt her nod against his chest and he kept her curled against his side, leading her up the stairs. How many times had she done this for him? Tucked him into bed and cared for him at his most vulnerable. 

Finally reaching her bedroom, he laid her down on the bed, tucking the blanket in around her. She snuggled into the pillow with a sigh. He hushed and hummed at her, easing her into sleep. Noticing the many pins in her hair, he took a seat on the mattress next to her and began to gently untangle each pin from her hair. He suspected leaving those in overnight would not help with what was sure to be a massive headache. 

Jean’s nose crinkled as he set to work and her eyes peeped open. “Lucien?”

He ran his fingers across her cheek softly, “I’m here. Sleep, Jean.”

She nodded and sighed, nuzzling into his touch. Lucien was awestruck. Jean’s lowered inhibitions rendered her so soft, so affectionate, so honest. Part of his heart was still downstairs, mulling over her drunken confession. 

“Lucien?”

He smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

His heart clenched in his chest, aching with the weight of his love for her. He had to tell her everything. But not now. Tomorrow morning. When she would remember. 

Untangling the last of the pins from her hair, Lucien set the collection of pins down on her bedside table. Jean’s breath was evening out and from experience, he knew a very deep sleep was not far behind her. 

Lucien smoothed a curl off of her forehead and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I don’t want you to leave, either.” Another sweep of his fingers over her cheek (he marveled at the softness of her skin). “We’ll talk in the morning, love, I promise you.”

Soft snores answered him and he smiled softly, standing up and rearranging her blankets, ensuring she wouldn’t be cold during the night. He flicked off the flight and closed her bedroom door with one last look at Jean passed out on the bed. 

Lucien knew from that moment on that he would absolutely be drinking with Jean Beazley more often, if he could help it.