(Inspired by SpaceCadet72's on ao3)
Marta got distracted from Harlan's novel by the noise of the rain clicking along the window. It made her happy, but still dragged her from the complicated world of Harlan's imagination. She always wondered where he got his ideas. Did they emerge when he was sipping tea? Or when he was picking lettuce for a sandwich? Perhaps he sat where she was in his library, or what she had come to think of as their library, watching the rain come down in the company of a friend. Maybe his brain thought over the technicalities of murder while a companion chatted about architecture. Whatever it was, thinking of Harlan gave Marta a form of peace.
And now, Marta could live in this world. Benoit Blanc, originally the detective who had known of her "guilt" far before anyone else, had become a friend of the utmost importance. It didn't take very long for the both of them to realize, without telling the other, that they were madly in love. Marta had to make the first move, Benoit was far too gentlemanly to ruin their friendship. She had held his hand, and it was enough to set the ball rolling.
A week later he had asked her for dinner. Another month, and they had shared their first kiss. Five months into the relationship, they were comfortable. Benoit would travel round the globe to help solve challenging cases, then return to Marta's mansion for a weekend or so to discuss the story and enjoy each other's company.
Benoit had just returned from a triple homicide in China - Marta did not know he spoke Chinese - and the pair sat in the library against the rain. Marta noticed Benoit hummed when he read.
It wasn't until the rain tore her thoughts away from the book that she realized the humming had stopped. She glanced up, but Benoit wasn't in his seat. When had he gone? Where had he gone?
She placed her bookmark safely between the pages, and went to find her partner. The hallways were still as deep as when Harlan occupied them, but they weren't oppressive. Marta made it so it was a blend of both, not wanting to ignore the home's history but not wishing to live in a gothic mansion.
Down the stairs and to the right was the guest bedroom that Marta had made her own. Through the cracked door, she spotted Benoit staring at his reflection in the full length mirror. He looked troubled, angry and discontent.
"Benoit?"
Her words caught him by surprise and he turned to her quickly, masking his previous emotions with an attempt at an easy smile.
"Everything okay?" She asked.
"Perfectly fine, dear girl. I appreciate your concern though," his thick drawl was delightful to her ears, but it didn't take away from the look in his eyes.
"Are you sure?" There was a moment of silence. Marta did not like to press, but she felt it important to reiterate something they had discussed. "I can't lie to you. It's only fair if you can't lie to me."
At that, Benoit took a sigh. He didn't want to tell Marta what he was feeling, it felt too juvenile for a man of his age. But that was the problem. She was right, if this were to continue, he had to be honest. Communication built this relationship, and it would keep it afloat.
"I am not feelin' very confident in myself," he admitted. "I am far too, how shall I put this... well I am too old."
Marta's eyes widened in shock, she was genuinely surprised that Benoit didn't know he was more than enough for her.
He misinterpreted her look, quickly explaining himself. "You are a beautiful, young woman. You're kind, and lovin', and far too sexy for your own right. I do not feel as though I can match you at my age."
"Oh Benoit," she stepped closer to him, taking his cheek in her hand. He lent into her touch. "You are everything I ever want."
His next words were barely above a whisper, "I am not good enough for you."
Marta quickly came to kiss his lips, determined to show him. He began to pull, but she made him look her in the eyes. "Let me love you, okay?"
He was resistant for a moment, but caved in.
She kissed his lips slowly and purposefully, not aggressive but with every intent of showing him her love. Her hands came up his chest slowly, savoring the feel of the warmth of his skin from beneath his suit. She gently unbuttoned his suit jacket.
With careful teeth and lips, she planted kisses along his jaw. In a husky voice, she whispered in his ear, "I find you very attractive, Benoit."
He shuddered at that, she could feel his emotions tighten in his chest. Oh, how did he not see how perfect he was to her? He was kind and intelligent, he stood up for justice and equality. She did not forget that he was easy on the eyes. Benoit did not need to look perfect, he didn't need to gain muscle or have certain qualities, he as himself was attractive. It was more than attractive for Marta, and she was determined to let him realize that. To let him show that his admiration for her didn't even reach the admiration she has for him.
She pushed the suit jacket off his broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of him from his shirt. Marta slid her hands down his arms, purposefully unbuttoning the cuffs and raking her nails along his lightly dusted arms. She returned to his shoulders, then his neck, unbuttoning the top few buttons.
"You are beautiful, Benoit," she said quietly, feeling his pulse quicken beneath her hands on his neck. Marta lifted his suspenders one by one down his shoulders, pulling them to discard them to the ground.
"You are -"
"Benoit," Marta placed a finger on his lips. "I love your compliments. I love how highly you think of me. Let me love you, okay?"
He sighed, deflating against her. "I can not seem to."
"I will say it as much as you need. Let me love you."
There was a tightness in Benoit's throat that he couldn't explain, and he feared if he spoke it would only squeeze harder. He nodded, letting Marta give her devoted attention to him.
It wasn't sexual, that's not what Marta intended. As she slowly stripped him of his clothing, kissing each part of him and whispering affirmations, Benoit felt loved as a person. That is all Marta wanted, to let this fantastic man know how truly and ardently she admired him.
Afterwards, she pulled the Southern detective into bed, and curled beside him. She messed with his hair as the rain came down softer than it had before.
