HP: Panem et Circenses

December 25th, 1995

Portraits bobbed their heads and swayed to the rhythm of faint music. Underneath them, more than half a hundred students milled around, either searching for their partners within the colorfully dressed crowd or expectantly eyeing the sealed doors to the Great Hall.

Adelaide waited by the balustrade at the foot of the Giant Staircase amidst her group of friends, drawing in the envious looks of more than a few girls from all around the entrance hall. She wore a long Bordeaux dress with her auburn hair flowing down the length of her back.

'Looking like a prim pureblood witch.' Tristan approached her, a grin tugging at his lips. 'Even Mother will struggle to find something to criticize about her attire when she sees the papers tomorrow.'

Adelaide's roaming eyes caught him. "Tristan!" She skipped forward to meet him halfway, throwing a pair of lithe arms around his neck.

"You look gorgeous, Adelaide," Tristan whispered into her hair, breathing in sweet, peachy shampoo. "Here, I've got something for you." He pried himself out of her embrace and fetched a blood-red lily from within the pocket of his black robes. He gave it to her with a low chuckle. "This one is enchanted and will blossom for much longer than the last one."

"It's beautiful." She pinned it behind her ear with a small, fond smile. Something flickered through her light green eyes. "Thank you, Tristan!"

"You're welcome."

Adelaide rose to her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back to nervously study his reaction. Hushed whispers swirled around them and a host of staring eyes prickled on Tristan's skin.

'It's just a kiss...'

Tristan fixed a bright, easy smile on his face and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Please." Adelaide slipped her arm through his, her fingers curling around his biceps as he led her over to the entrance of the Great Hall where Slughorn waited for them.

"Tristan and Ms. Goldstein, I am most glad the Hogwarts-Rumor-Mill was correct this time, for you two make such a lovely couple!"

"Thank you, Professor Slughorn," Adelaide beamed and swiftly held some small talk while Tristan surveyed the buzzing crowd.

His stomach churned strangely anytime a flash of silver caught his eye. 'I need to stop fucking thinking about her.' Tristan smothered a twist of anxiety in his gut and studied his fingernails. 'That's exactly what she wants to see. I need to just enjoy my night with Adelaide and ignore her for the most part.'

Viktor Krum led a delegation of Durmstrangs and their dates into the Entrance Hall. On his arm clung no other than Hermione Granger, dressed in baby blue, with her bushy hair finally tamed.

"That seems a bit wrong." Adelaide pursed her lips and leaned closer to whisper up into Tristan's ear. "He must be eighteen already and he takes someone on a date who can't be older than fifteen?"

"Perhaps Krum's options were limited," Tristan said, smothering a smile. "His fanbase must've been disappointed with his performance in-"

Movement flashed in the corner of his eye and the word died on his tongue.

Fleur Delacour floated down the steps in a strapless gown of shimmering silver. It clung to her curves like she had stepped through a cascade of molten metal and shivered like summer haze with every sway of her hips.

Tristan sucked in a breath and blinked. 'She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen...'

Delacour lit up the entrance hall like a beacon the night, only growing brighter and brighter the more stares she attracted until the crowd around her fell completely silent.

Roger Davies stumbled over the tiles to offer her his arm, glassy-eyed and almost drooling onto the collar of his silver-highlighted dress robes. Delacour linked herself in; her soft smile curved into a small smirk as she found Tristan and her blue eyes sparkled with mirth like stars.

Heat bubbled within his bones. 'Fuck this.' Tristan tore himself away and fed the image of her to the abyss, holding his breath until the raging storm in his stomach calmed.

"Roger, m'boy, you seem to have developed a knack for being fashionably late," Slughorn chuckled and dipped his head, chins disappearing somewhere in his neck. "Although I doubt any of us could resist prolonging the company of such a charming date. You are a blessing for the eye, Mademoiselle Delacour."

Davies remained silent, a dreamy expression on his face. "Merci, Monsieur Slughorn." Delacour laughed softly and steered him closer. "I look forward to tonight." Her eyes flickered to Tristan. "It's going to be so much fun...'

"Indeed, indeed." Slughorn bobbed his head. "Time for the opening dance then. Over here if you please, Ms. Delacour." He gestured to the sealed doors leading into the Great Hall. "You will enter first as the champion with the most points, followed by Tristan, and then Mr. Krum."

"D'accord." Delacour floated past in a sway of silver and the unique, perpetual scent of sweet vanilla that clung to her.

"Bonsoir Tristan." The white rose buds woven into her long braids gleamed like ice crystals as she glanced back over her creamy shoulder up at him. "I hope you remember our... little deal for tonight."

Adelaide tensed next to him and shifted closer to his side.

'I knew I should've told her about this...' Tristan sighed. "I do, peti-, he quickly feigned a cough, "I do, Fleur."

"Parfait." Delacour's smirk widened and she threw him a wink before turning back around and floating through the opening doors into the Great Hall.

The walls had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry-black ceiling. The House tables had been replaced by a few dozen smaller, lantern-lit ones.

Tristan dragged his eyes away from Delacour's bare back and the graceful sway of her hips and shut out the hushed whispers drifting around them. When the music began to sound, he gently steered Adelaide into the first couple of steps and twirled her over the dance floor.

"Deal?" his date hissed, fingers curling tight into his biceps. Her light green eyes spat fire into Delacour's bare back any time they passed her and Davies. "What deal did you make with her, Tristan?"

"We just agreed to share one dance so please don't make a scene, okay?" Tristan smothered a stab of irritation "I'm all yours for the rest of the night."

Adelaide bit her bottom lip hard but remained silent. She allowed him to lead her for the remainder of the song, yet anytime they passed by Delacour and Davies, she dominated their steps in a different direction.

'I suppose attending a ball as girlfriend and boyfriend includes ridiculous acts of jealousy.' Tristan rolled his eyes, thankful when the song finally drowned in polite applause.

Adelaide slipped her fingers through his and led him over to a side table covered in drinks. "Let's have some wine." She snatched two bottles and grabbed his hand, dragging him to a table in the back of the Great Hall.

'How do I even order food?' Tristan perused the menu with a small frown. 'Do I just say the name out loud?'

"Uhm... Pork chops, please?"

Pork chops appeared on his plate.

"Would you like anything, Adelaide?"

She didn't seem to hear him, her eyes narrowed on a blur of silver in the crowd and flashed with envy.

"Adelaide?" Tristan carefully probed again.

Her head snapped back around and dipped to his plate, briefly flickering down to her belly. "No, I don't want anything!" She pushed her plate away from her.

"Suit yourself, I guess..."

The bottle of wine caught his attention. "How come they're serving alcohol at a ball underage wizards and witches can attend?"

Adelaide snatched the bottle out of his grasp and poured herself a generous amount, downing it in quick sips. "I've heard Professor Sprout say the ball was only supposed to be for students who were seventeen and over."

Tristan snorted. "That makes no sense. Why would they set an age limit for the ball but allow anyone who's finished their OWLs to submit their name as champion?"

"I don't know, Tristan!" she replied somewhat snappishly, pouring herself another glass. "I'm only telling you what I've heard."

'Aren't you in a cheery mood...' Tristan held his tongue and watched the Weird Sisters climb the stage to play a faster-paced song.

Krum was still dancing with Granger, as was Davies with Delacour. His glassy-eyed gaze didn't seem to bother her at all. She moved full of grace and confidence, twirling underneath his arm like a silver flower in a gentle breeze.

Adelaide followed his line of sight and clenched her jaw. "Why did you agree to dance with her?"

Tristan leveled her with a flat look. "We're both champions, I'm pretty sure it's almost expected of us to share one dance together. International cooperation and all that."

"Well, I don't see her dancing with Krum," she snarled.

'Why am I even explaining myself to her?' Tristan sighed. "What's your deal with Delacour, Adelaide?"

"Something's going on between the two of you and you're shamelessly flirting with her in front of me." Her eyes spat fire and she bit her trembling lips hard. "I've heard rumors you spent all night at Slughorn's latest party together as well."

Tristan felt his ire rise. "As far as I know I was the only one speaking French, so I considered it polite to keep her company."

"That's supposed to be all there is to it? You really think I haven't noticed you staring at her all night?" Adelaide snapped, setting her glass of wine down so forcefully that its contents spilled over and drenched the white tablecloth. "I thought you were different from the other boys, but you're just as much caught in her weird veela magic as anyone else."

"Excuse me, but have you seen her?" Tristan scoffed. "You think a girl like her needs magic to catch a boy's eye?"

"Just go, Tristan!" Tears welled up in Adelaide's eyes. She snatched the enchanted flower from behind her ear and hurled it against his chest. "Go and have your dance with Fleur fucking Delacour!"

"Come on, Adelaide-"

"No!" She leaped up, pushing her chair back abruptly, storming off toward the exit of the Great Hall.

"Bloody brilliant." Tristan picked the flower from his lap and set it on the table. He sighed and downed his glass with a few gulps, liquid heat pouring down his throat and into his belly. "Well done, mate..."

'I wish Valeria was here.' He studied the dancing couples and poured himself another glass. 'Actually, scratch that thought. To attend she'd have to be invited by some boy much older than her and she'd be the only fourth-year aside from Hermione Granger here anyways.'

Tristan let his eyes roam over the crowd, searching for a swirl of silver amid the blur of colorful robes. A nasty thought bubbled in the back of his mind when he failed to find one and noticed that Davies was missing as well.

'Don't tell me they took off together...' His stomach took a dive and churned painfully. 'Surely she wouldn't go that far just to get a rise out of me, would she?'

Fingers brushed over his shoulder and curled into his robes and a soft voice whispered down into his ear. "Have you lost your date, Tristan?"

Tristan set his drink back down and shifted around in his chair. Fleur Delacour smiled down at him, glowing like a ray of sunshine that broke through stormy clouds.

Relief fluttered through him in a deep breath. 'Thank fuck she's not with Davies in some broom cupboard.'

"Yes, actually I did lose my date." Tristan leveled her with a long look. "I think it's because for some reason, her head was just all over the place tonight..."

"Désolé." Laughter danced in Delacour's blue eyes as she slipped into the empty chair next to him. She snatched up his drink and took a few small sips, the pink tip of her tongue darting over her lips. "Is there perhaps a way I can make it up to you?"

'Not this again.' Tristan rolled his eyes. "Did you come over only to steal my food again or will you finally collect your dance, petite Fleur?"

"You did promise me one."

"Fine." Tristan took back his glass and gulped down the rest of his wine, a pleasant warmth running from his throat to his belly. He stood and offered her his hand. "May I have this dance, Mademoiselle?"

"I've been looking forward to it all night." Her smile grew wider and she allowed him to pull her up to her feet. "I waited for you to finally gather the courage to ask me."

"If you're looking for mindless courage, perhaps you should've grown fond of messing with a Gryffindor instead of me."

"Non, you were definitely the right choice." She slipped her arm through his, her heat burning against his skin like the summer sun, and accompanied him back to the dance floor. "None of them are like you, Tristan. They don't even come close..."

"So you've told me before." Tristan placed one hand on the hot, bare skin by the small of her back and intertwined the fingers of his left hand with hers as he began gently steering her around.

'I'll probably end up regretting this.'

The other couples and everything else drowned beneath the cheerful waltz of music and their joined rhythmic steps; everything but the occasional flash of bright blue eyes from underneath long lashes, the searing heat of her skin against his, and the sound of his heart in his ears.

"You're a good dancer," Delacour murmured, edging even closer against him until the swell of her breasts barely touched his chest and her warm breath washed over his neck. "But I prefer it like this."

Tristan swallowed heavily. "Not with Davies, you didn't."

"He was not a good dancer." Her eyes roamed over his face, lingered on his lips, and then down his neck; the fingers placed on his shoulder curled a tad tighter into the fabric of his robes. "Roger kept stepping on my toes and his hand began... wandering."

"That explains why I haven't seen him in a while." Tristan chucked. "Is he recovering somewhere?"

"Yes." She flashed him a small smirk. "He grew a bit too bold and thought he deserved a kiss just because I said yes to a dance..."

Tristan's stomach churned at the thought and his gaze dipped down to her red lips.

"Don't fret, Tristan." Delacour laughed softly. "He got what he deserved, but it wasn't a kiss. I don't just give those away to anyone..."

Tristan fought not to let his expression betray his relief. The song faded out and an even slower one picked up.

"Now then..." Delacour's hot fingers slipped through his, yet instead of asking to be taken back to the tables, she brought both arms up and around his neck, flashing him a coy little smirk. "This is much more fun."

Tristan brought both hands down and rested them on either side of her hips, gently stirring her to the slow tune. "I'm pretty sure I remember us agreeing on one dance, petite Fleur."

"Are you telling me you're not enjoying yourself?" Her lips curved into a delicate pout. "Is there any girl here you'd rather dance with right now?"

"No, I can't say there is," he admitted.

"Exactement." One of her hands roamed from his shoulder up to his neck and slipped into his hair. "You and I are not so different, Tristan. They used to stare at you because of who your family is. Now they stare at you because you've shown them greatness. But they still don't care, not truly. They only-"

"-flock to those who are better than them, like shallow, mindless sheep," Tristan finished. "And what about you, petite Fleur? What makes you different?"

"You will find out soon enough, Tristan," she smiled before leaning her head against his chest with a small sigh, vanilla perfume stirred up in his nostrils. "This is parfait. It should've been like this all night… if only you would have asked me a bit earlier." Her lithe form shook with a burst of soft, stifled giggles. "I might've even said yes directly, without teasing you a bit."

"I very much doubt that. I would've only joined a very long line of disappointed boys," Tristan snorted. "Besides, resisting the temptation was so much more fun, petite Fleur." He brushed a finger through her soft hair. "Especially when I'm rewarded by that irresistible pout of yours."

Fleur lifted her head off of his chest and studied him intently. "If you gave in to the temptation right now, Tristan-" the gleam in her eyes brightened, "-what would you do?"

'What would I do?'

Tristan's feet paused as he stared into the depths of her summer-sky blue eyes, shining brightly beneath a veil of lustrous, silver-blond hair. His gaze dipped down to full, red lips, the familiar smirk replaced by a soft warm smile.

'She's so beautiful.' Something lurched in his chest. 'I really want to kiss her.'

"If I gave in to the temptation-" he swallowed thickly, barely recognizing his own voice, "-then I'd probably steal a kiss from you, petite Fleur."

Fleur's eyes darkened in desire.

"Do it then," she whispered, her breath coming in short hitches. "Steal a kiss from me, Tristan."

The warmth of her skin burnt like a flame against his fingers, his chest, and barely an inch away from his face. He tried to drag his eyes away from her full, red lips.

"Go on." Her breath trembled. "Take it."

Temptation fluttered in his chest, but he smothered it with a shaky gulp of air and an easy grin. "I told you you should've picked a Gryffindor if you wanted-"

She crushed her lips against his with a soft moan, slipping both hands into his hair and clutching his mouth to hers. Tristan smiled into her kiss, letting her slip her tongue into his mouth. She tasted hot like triumph and sweeter than the greatest victory.

"I win, petite Fleur," he whispered, as she drew back to take a trembling breath. "You kissed me. And so I win our little game."

"I don't mind very much." She held his gaze with flushed cheeks, eyes sparkling like stars. "I only offered you freely what you were too afraid to steal..."

"Is that so?" He savored the lingering taste of her on his tingling lips. "What about this then?"

He pinned her flush against his body, warm curves pressed into his chest, and crushed his lips down to hers, stealing kisses from her until a sweet gasp broke from her mouth.

"Thief." Fleur touched her parted lips with her fingers when they finally broke apart. "You're a thief, Tristan Peverell, and you stole more than just one kiss."

"Guilty as charged." He brushed a disheveled silver curl behind her ear, letting his other hand trail down her bare back and rest at the curve of her rear. Fleur shivered as he traced it up again to her shoulder blades. "What are you going to do about it, petite Fleur?"

Her eyes darkened a few hues, burning with desire. "I want you to take me out of here." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and another to his jaw. "Somewhere it's just the two of us..."

Tristan smiled, a warm glow radiating from his heart. "I know just the place." Slipping his fingers through hers, he led her to the exit through a parting crowd, ignoring the countless staring and whispering couples.

Tapestries and portraits blurred past as they stumbled up the steps of the Giant Staircase, all seven floors, only lingering to catch their breaths after heated kisses robbed them of air.

He paused by the blank stretch of walls concealing his secret room.

"This is where I need you to turn around and close your eyes, petite Fleur." He kissed her, trailing her lower lip with his tongue. "What comes next is a little secret."

Full, red lips curled into a pout though she closed her eyes and obeyed. Tristan measured his steps and strode up and down the stretch of wall three times, listening to the pounding of his heart as he imagined the room he'd like to enter.

The stone shifted into a doorway and a golden handle appeared. He scooped an arm around Fleur's slim waist and gently turned her around. "You can look now."

Her eyes opened and found the handle, blue orbs gleaming in curious delight. "Where will it lead us?"

Tristan pressed a kiss to the small silver hairs on her neck. "Open it and find out."

Fleur twisted the handle and floated inside on light feet, Tristan right on her heels.

Dark wooden beams ran parallel along the ceiling. The setting sun spilled rays of warm rosa through a small gap in the curtains. A velvet green carpet stretched over a polished wooden floorboard to the wide mahogany wardrobe that stood opposite a large four-poster bed.

Fleur produced her wand from somewhere within her cleavage and ran its tip over one of the many petals of flowers scattered over the bed and cushions.

"It's your room," she frowned, closing her eyes and humming under her breath. "Though you didn't replicate by hand, it's some sort of illusion, like for the first task."

Tristan grinned as he stepped behind her. "You'll learn nothing more about it from me. You should feel honored that you're the first person I'm even showing this room to."

"Is there really no way I can persuade you?" The delicate pout returned to her lips.

"Pouting won't make me spill my secrets." Tristan tilted her jaw up and kissed her. "No matter how irresistible it makes you look."

"What about this then?" She twirled her wand over herself. A slim strap of silver appeared on each of her shoulders. She toyed a finger underneath both of them and slowly shrugged them off.

Silver silk slipped down the swell of her breasts and pooled to the floor like a cascade of gleaming metal.

Tristan drank in her curves like he'd only known starvation all his life, burning the image into his memory. Heat surged through his veins, whispering in bright, sweet little thrills that robbed him of every other thought.

Nothing was important; nothing mattered, apart from the silver-haired girl in his room, who glowed like the moon and glanced up at him with her warm, little smile.

Fleur pulled him closer by the hem of his shirt. "What do you think, Tristan?"

Tristan slowly reached out with both hands and cupped her breasts, tracing his fingertips over her soft, pale skin. He drew gentle circles around her nipple with the edge of his thumb until they turned hard and her lips parted for a small gasp.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl I'll ever see." Tristan swallowed heavily. "In all my life."

"Good answer." Fleur stepped out of her dress and crushed herself back against him; her fingers in his hair, her tongue dancing heatedly with his own. "Off," she gasped and tugged at his robes. "All of it."

Tristan shrugged out of his outer robes and tore at his dress shirt, button scattering over the floor. He lifted her up by her hips and carried her over to the bed, gently lowering her between the cushions with their lips still attached.

Fleur hooked her ankles around his waist and pulled him down with her, forcing him to settle between her legs. "Touch me," she moaned into his mouth and parted her thighs. "I need you... to touch me."

Tristan traced his fingertips up the inside of her thigh, drawing faint circles over her warm, smooth skin. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Right here." Fleur parted her legs further and arched her back, pressing the hot dampness between her thighs onto his fingertips with a soft gasp. "And no teasing, s'il te plaît. Not now."

He slipped a finger through her smooth wetness and curled it inside of her, brushing his thumb right above her heat in slow, steady circles and capturing her lips with his. "Like this?"

"More." Fleur's legs trembled and she bucked. Her toes curled and she gasped into his mouth. "More, Tristan."

Tristan added a second finger and trailed a hot path of kisses from her lips to her stiff nipples, flicking his tongue over each of them and smiling at her cute, little moans. His lips traveled lower, over the smooth skin of her belly and down to her thighs. "How about this?"

"Oui," Fleur whispered, her breath coming hitched as her fingers fisted in his hair. "I want you to taste me."

"I will..."

A gasp burst through her lips as the tip of his tongue flicked through the wet pink between her thighs and his fingers curled into her. Tristan traced his tongue through her silken heat again and again, drawing gentle circles and slipping it deeper into her until a warm, sweet taste filled his mouth.

"Don't stop doing that," Fleur gasped and shuddered, her fingers fisting in his hair and moving to the steady rhythm of his tongue. "Keep going."

Tristan retrieved his tongue with a small smirk. "You've been teasing me for weeks; trying to rile me up, petite Fleur."

"Merde." Fleur trembled and bit her lip to stifle a low moan.

He curled his fingers into her and rolled his thumb in tight circles over the small bundle of nerves. "A bit of teasing is only fair now, non?"

"S'il te plaît." Fleur gasped, her legs shaking and shivering. "S'il te plaît, Tristan."

Tristan replaced his thumb with his tongue, flicking it over her clit until her hips buckled up and her hands fisted tight in his hair to the point of light pain.

"Parfait." Fleur came undone underneath him and peaked with a low moan. "Parfait."

He slipped an arm around her and held her tight as she collapsed beside him. Fleur's breasts heaved and lowered rapidly, gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat.

"You-" her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered behind closed lids. "You were teasing me..."

"I did." Tristan kissed her with a small smile, hot desire whispering through him when she slipped her tongue into his mouth and moaned softly at the taste of herself.

Nimble fingers traced down his bare chest, fingernails scraping over his abs before she tugged open his trousers and pulled them down his thighs. Fleur kissed him hard and fiercely. "You're going to regret doing so very soon..."

She cupped him through his underwear, fingers curling around his hardness and caressing him up and down until his heart raced and his blood boiled with lust.

"And why is that?" Tristan groaned softly.

Fleur glanced up at him from underneath long lashes, cheeks still flushed pink and her blue eyes smoldered with desire. She toyed with the hem of his boxers before pulling them down at an antagonizing pace, freeing his hardness and cupping it in her hand.

A smirk fluttered over her face. "Because you'll be begging me…" She pressed him against her cheek and slid the tip of him across her lower lip.

Heat pooled in Tristan's belly and his breath hitched as he watched her trace the length of him with her pink tongue until she took the tip into her mouth and sucked lightly.

"Fleur," he moaned, fisting both hands into her silver locks and holding on tight. Soft pink lips slowly crept down him until he could feel himself twitch against the back of her throat.

She drew him back out and gasped for breath, sucking a string of saliva from her rose-pink lips with a small smirk. "Begging me to finish you-"

Tristan cupped her hands with both of his and pulled them off of him when she moved to engulf him again. "No."

She stared up at him in confusion, her eyes darkening to midnight blue as she fought his grip. Heat shimmered around her fingers, searing at his hands. "Yes!" A low growl rolled from her lips when he didn't relent and she trashed, buckling her hips up against him. "Let me-"

"-I said no, petite Fleur." Tristan leveraged his weight and pinned both her arms above her head on the mattress, kissing her hard until she shuddered with a gasp. "You're a tease. So why would I just let you have your way with me?"

He cupped Fleur's cheek and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. She opened her mouth, letting him slip his thumb onto her tongue, but biting down with pearly white teeth, eyes still dark and narrowed.

Tristan loosened his grip on her hands a tad when she stopped fighting him. "You said it yourself… I'm different, am I not?"

A shiver swept through Fleur and her eyes widened, turning back to a sparkling, summer sky blue. Tristan kept both her arms pinned above her head with one hand and traced the other down to cup her breast firmly, teasing her hard nipple.

"Oui, you're different." Her eyelashes fluttered with a small moan and she parted her legs for him, hooking her ankles around his waist to pull him against her. "Have me your way then."

"I will." Tristan admired the glistering wetness trickling down her thighs. "And I promise there will be no more teasing." He ran his palms down her legs and tucked her ankles over his shoulders.

A little shudder swept through Fleur as Tristan drew his tip through her wetness before he lined himself up. He met her smoldering blue eyes and slowly eased himself all the way into her, pushing her legs up until she gasped and arched her back.

Tight, sleek heat welcomed him and Fleur drew his head down for a kiss, moaning past his lips as he drew back and pushed deep again. Tristan locked her hands above her head, admiring the rise and fall of her breasts and the ragged gaps escaping her mouth with each of his thrusts.

"Faster," Fleur moaned, rolling her hips against him and arching her back to meet his thrust. "And harder, Tristan."

He held her by her thighs, fingers digging into her soft flesh to thrust deeper and harder, matching the rhythm of her moans. One of Fleur's hands crept up to his shoulder and she clung on tight, the fingernails of her other hand scraped down his back, leaving lines of pure fire in their wake.

Heat coiled tight in his abdomen and he grit his teeth. His fingers sought out her center and he flicked his thumb over the bundle of nerves.

"Almost," Fleur gasped and buried her fists in the sheets of his bed, leaving smoldering, tattered fabric. "Oui!" Her knuckles whitened and she threw her head back; eyelids fluttering and her hips buckling as she came undone against him with a soft cry.

Tristan slowed his rhythm as he felt himself near his limit and watched her. Fleur's eyes were closed, her hair disheveled, and her face flushed red. Her content, small smile sent flutters down his stomach and when she opened her eyes, the blue sparkle in their endless, warm depths sent his heart lurching through his breast.

"I'm close," he whispered, his thrusts coming sporadically as he made weak attempts to withdraw from her.

"Non." Fleur's creamy legs slipped lower and hooked around his waist, pulling him deeper into her with a soft moan. Her arms clung to his shoulders and held him tight. "You've felt me finish twice." She drew his head down into a slow kiss, full of passion and tenderness. "Now it's my turn to feel you finish inside me."

"Fleur," Tristan murmured her name against her lips again and again as the heat coiled into a tight knot in his abdomen. It finally peaked, bursting from him with a low groan.

He buried himself inside her to the brink, thrusting until he was completely spent and collapsed on top of her. Fleur's fingers caressed his hair and she pampered his forehead with soft kisses, holding his head flush to her breasts while he panted heavily.

He didn't know how much time passed by while he simply lay there and listened to the faint beat of Fleur's heart underneath her soft, hot skin. Eventually, he caught his breath and hoisted himself up, slipping out of her.

Fleur's face was still flushed pink and her pale breasts fell and rose with steady breaths. She caught his gaze dropping lower and smirked, spreading her legs a tad wider for him. "Do you like the look of me like that?"

White trickled from within her and down her thighs, dampening the sheets of his bed.

"I do." Tristan stifled a stab of lust, feeling himself twitch as his blood rushed low again. "I like it a lot."

Fleur slipped her hand between her thighs and caught some of it on the tip of her finger. She brought her hand back up and sucked her finger clean, holding his eye with a wicked little gleam in hers. "Enough to go again already?"

Tristan chuckled weakly. "In a few moments."

"Bon." Fleur smiled and lifted herself off the bed to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "The night is still young, and now that I've let you have me your way. It's my turn, non?"

"I suppose that's only fair." Tristan lay down beside her and threw a blanket over both of them. He slipped his arm around her slim waist and rested his palm on her belly, breathing in the sweet vanilla of her silver-blonde hair.

"Hold me warm and tight, Tristan, s'il te plaît." She moved his hand further up and cupped her breast with it, wiggling her backside into his crotch with soft, musical laughter. "This feels very nice as well and, as a bonus, I'll know when you're ready again..."