HP: Panem et Circenses

April 30th, 1996

A leather bracelet of tiny Celtic knots interwoven with flowers coiled like a snake from his wrists to his forearms. From there, it circled underneath the short sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his shoulders.

Tristan watched his reflection skeptically and lifted the slim flower wreath from around his neck. Beneath it, Gaelic runes stood black as tattoos from his pale skin, almost matching the color of his amulet.

He sighed. "I look like one of those crazy muggle hippies."

"Nonsense, dear, you look perfectly dressed for the occasion." His mother pried the flower wreath out of his fingers and unbuttoned the topmost button of his dress shirt with nimble fingers. "Fleur is one lucky girl."

Tristan blinked. "Since when did you approve of Fleur? The one time you met her, you looked about ready to pluck her feathers like a Christmas goose."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I merely had to get a measure for the kind of witch she is." She brushed a few dark curls from his forehead with a small fond smile. "I've raised a very handsome young man so obviously there'd be another female in his life at one point. Having met her I can say that I'm glad you chose her."

"More like she chose me and it's not as if we're getting married anytime soon." Tristan tried to smother a brief churn of his stomach with an easy chuckle. "I- I'm not even sure what we are right now."

"Don't stress too much about it." She patted his cheek. "Just behave like a gentleman and enjoy the ball with her."

'Nothing easier than that... Her parents will probably be upset she invited me without their consent and William Weasley will be there to make moves on her...'

Tristan took a deep breath and clawed the unease back down. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun."

His mother's eyes sharpened. "I'd rather you don't have too much fun together."

"Uhm-" he shot a pointed look down to the tiny swell of her belly underneath blue robes, "-are you sure you're one to lecture me on being careful?"

Pink crept up her pale cheeks and she swatted his shoulder, then placed her palm over her belly. "This- was by no means a mishap. Your father and I are both still young so we decided to just let Mother Magic decide whether we should have another-"

Tristan snorted audibly.

"You know what?!" She scowled and poked him hard in the chest. "I don't need to explain myself to you, young man, but you better believe I will bend you over my knee should some knocked-up veela show up at our doorstep in a few months."

"And on that very disturbing note, I'll be off." Tristan fished the slim envelope Fleur had given him out of his pockets. "Let's just pray that my future sibling wasn't conceived on the kitchen table. Delacour Beltane."

His mother's outraged expression and the room blurred into a whirl of colors, then he stumbled through knee-high grass and his nostrils filled with salty air.

A lone oak tree rose from a gentle slope and cast a long shadow from the plain field down to where waves crashed against rock. A silver-haired girl swayed on a simple wooden swing secured to the thickest branch. Her bare feet grazed the blades of grass with each swing.

He silently trekked down towards the tree so as not to interrupt the moment.

"Bonsoir, Tristan." Fleur glanced over her bare shoulder with a small smile.

She hopped off the swing and turned around, striding towards him through the grass. Threads of gold shimmered in her short, strapless dress, as red as her lips. A crown of roses bloomed on top of her platinum hair, which was tied in a loose braid down her left shoulder, and golden bangles and bracelets sparkled on her pale skin.

She stepped underneath his chin and smiled, glowing in the rose rays of the spring sunset, sending a hot flutter of butterflies straight through his stomach. "What do you think of my favorite spot?"

Tristan took a moment for his heart to settle and glanced past her shoulder where sea and sky kissed in the distant horizon.

"It's beautiful," he whispered.

Her lips curved into a smirk. "Good answer." She rose on red-painted toenails to nuzzle herself against him and kiss him softly. "On y va?"

"We're attending a ball, petite Fleur." Tristan glanced down at her bare feet. "You'll probably need your shoes for that."

She produced her wand from her waist and summoned a pair of red flats from underneath the swing, then slipped her toes into them and tied them up with magic.

"On y va." Threading her fingers through his, she led him up the slope and closer to the sound of music and laughter. "Nervous?"

"A bit," Tristan confessed. "It is my very first Beltane Ball, after all."

"That's not what I meant."

"It was worth a shot," he chuckled weakly. "I'm a bit nervous about meeting your parents. I don't have much experience in that either."

"Neither do they," Fleur hummed. "You're the first boy I'm introducing them to."

'That's unexpected for a girl like her.' A frown crept into Tristan's expression. 'I thought there would've been at least a few boyfriends.'

He tore away an image of Fleur, hand in hand with some tall, faceless shadow, and took a deep breath. "I don't know if that'll make things easier or harder for me."

"You've convinced me you're different," she murmured and squeezed his hand. "Now you'll have to repeat it for my parents."

Lofty hedges circumvented an extensive, white-bricked manor behind the hill. Dots of bright color swirled across the open courtyard where the tongues of an enormous fire sizzled into the darkening sky.

"That's a lot of people," Tristan mentioned as Fleur led him through the throngs of guests to the manor's entrance. Countless eyes burned into his neck and hushed whispers swelled all around them at their appearance.

"It's a big event, every year. Anyone of importance in France and a few other European countries will be here." She nestled herself closer into his side until her warmth burned against his skin like rays of summer sun. "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

He snorted. "How could I? You'll be the most beautiful girl at the ball." A bubble of wry humor drifted from his strained nerves. "Although I haven't met your mother yet..."

Fleur's soft, high laughter floated over the tune of music and she tugged him towards a large white tent. "I'll let you be the judge then. Maman and Papa should be in here."

Tristan's stomach clenched tight as they stepped inside and joined a short queue of guests that greeted a couple up front. The silver-haired woman, wearing a white dress and a wreath of dark violets, was unmistakably Fleur's mother. The brown-haired wizard next to her was of slightly above-average height, with a neat, clean-shaven face.

Tristan tried to distract himself by identifying all the fancy dishes along the walls of the tent, yet all too soon it was their turn already.

"Fleur, there you are." A brief shadow flickered through her father's expression as he caught their interlaced fingers. "I didn't know you'd bring another guest." His blue eyes found the Peverell amulet beneath the flower wreath around Tristan's neck and sharpened a tad. "Tristan Peverell, I presume?"

'Great.' Tristan's stomach plunged. 'She didn't even tell them I was coming.'

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." He offered his hand. "I hope I'm not intruding too much?"

"Not all, please call me Philippe." The sharpness stretched from Philippe's eyes into a thin smile. "I'm Fleur's father. You can probably tell she inherited all of my good looks."

The woman next to him laughed melodically and stepped forward. "I'm Apolline." She clasped Tristan's hand between hers, then rose to press her lips to either of his cheeks, leaving burning spots on his skin and the lingering scent of citrus in his nostrils.

"Our daughter has told us much about you already." She withdrew with a curious little gleam in her eyes. "Gabrielle, that is. Fleur remained rather tight-lipped."

"He's finally here!" The tent's entrance fluttered open.

Gabby leaped inside and wrapped him into a tight hug, plastering both cheeks with kisses.

"Oopsie." She released him and grinned mischievously, poking the pink tip of her tongue through her teeth. "Sorry, Fleur."

Fleur glared at her little sister before she turned to him with dark eyes and cupped his jaw. She wetted her thumb and wiped what he assumed to be smears of pink lip gloss from each of his cheeks.

"Tristan and I will get something to drink before I show him around." She took his hand and shot her parents a pointed look. "Au revoir, Maman et Papa."

"Bien sur. Enjoy the ball, you two." Her father nodded. "We very much look forward to getting to know you better in the course of the evening, Tristan."

'I wish I could say the same…'

He followed Fleur back outside past clusters of chatting guests and dancing couples to a table with aperitifs. She ran her slim finger over each label and perused the occasional bottles until she settled on one in the back. "Something strong and sweet. Perfect."

"I'll trust your taste." Tristan offered two crystal glasses. "You are French after all."

She poured them both a generous amount and touched glasses with him. "Santé."

"Cheers." He mirrored her motion and gulped down a large sip of dark red liquid. It seared down his throat like liquid flames, leaving a sharp sweet taste on his tongue before it pooled into a deep, warm glow in his stomach.

"That's pretty potent stuff." Tristan squinted his eyes and let the hot tingle radiate through him. "Almost like fire whiskey."

"It's an improved French version of it called Dragon's Kiss." Fleur licked her lips and shot him a coy smirk as she refilled their glasses. "It's my favorite..."

"Do you think it'll go well with chocolate from Honeydukes?" He circled an arm around her waist and drew her in for a quick kiss, whispering in her ear. "I promised someone to make up for prematurely ending a picnic date and I still need a few ideas..."

"Oui. They go very well together," she laughed and kissed him again, then leaned back against his chest as they watched the bright tongues of flames chase themselves up into the night sky above the large fire.

"I see you guys started without me already."

William Weasley ambled toward them with his hands in his pockets and grinning roguishly. The dragon fang earring bobbed with each step and his long red hair was held in a headband of white orchids.

A sharp flash of annoyance tore through the drink's warm afterglow. Tristan linked both hands around Fleur's front, drawing her back against his chest.

"Bonjour, William," Fleur greeted him politely though made no attempts to withdraw. "I hope you're enjoying the ball."

"Been a blast so far and I'm sure it'll get even better, now that I'm in the company of a countryman." Weasley grinned at Tristan and nabbed an empty glass from the table. "What are we drinking? And more importantly - what are we toasting to?"

Fleur offered him the bottle. "Voilá."

"Dragon's Kiss?" His grin widened. "My brother Charlie introduced me to it some time ago. He has a bit of a thing for dragons - Charlie - but it's been one of my favorites ever since."

'Of course it is your favorite.' Tristan rolled his eyes.

"I actually portkeyed here straight from Hogwarts." Weasley refilled their drinks and touched glasses with Fleur. "The maze is almost done now. Only a few last surprises specifically designed for each of you. Though don't mention to anyone I've said so."

"Forus?" Fleur quirked a slim eyebrow. "How so?"

"We studied your performances in the previous two tasks and designed some of the... obstacles accordingly." Weasley downed another shot and held her gaze with a bright little gleam in his blue eyes. "It was pretty tough in your case. That ward manipulation you showed against the Nundu could get you straight into my current position at Gringotts so we had to get extra creative."

'Obstacles?' A spike of cold fury seared through Tristan and he glared at the dragon fang earring, his fingers digging deeper into the thin fabric of Fleur's dress. 'The only obstacle I see is you.'

A proud smirk curved Fleur's lips and her thumb trailed soothing patterns across the back of his hand. "I'm known for causing a bit of trouble." She glanced up over her shoulder at Tristan. "Every rose comes with its thorns. That's what makes them beautiful, non?"

'Indeed it does.' A rush of warmth flooded Tristan's chest and he exchanged a small smile.

Weasley laughed loudly in a flash of white teeth, sending his earring swinging back and forth.

"That's a really good one. Damn, I wish I had come up with it." He downed his glass in one gulp, his gaze roaming to the dancing couples by the fire. "Well then... since this is a ball, would you like to share a quick dance, Fleur?"

A trickle of ice crept down Tristan's spine and he twitched. "What did you-"

"Désolé, William." Fleur squeezed Tristan's fingers. "But I think as my date for the night, Tristan deserved the first dance with me, non?"

"Fair enough." Weasley shrugged and shot them another easy grin though Tristan caught the strain in it. "The night is still young, I'm sure I'll get my chance later."

Tristan bit back his retort and took a deep breath, then followed Fleur's light pull to the other couples that danced by the fire, still feeling Weasley's sight on them.

Fleur tilted his head back down to her. "Eyes down here, Tristan." She led him into the first few steps. "It hurts my pride to have you look at anyone else but me when we're dancing together."

He let the fierce throb of his heart subside with each step they took in unison to the rhythm of harps and flutes. They went back and forth, left and right, with Fleur twirling underneath his arm, until Weasley's cocksure grin and the host of prickling stares in his back were all but forgotten.

"That's much better." Her eyes softened and she slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling herself closer to him until the heat of her burned against his skin. "I'm glad you're here with me tonight. I haven't seen you around much at Hogwarts lately."

"I've kept myself busy with training mostly."

"For the third task?"

'No.' A crest of crossed golden rapiers flashed through his mind. "Yes, for the... grand finale."

Her lips curved into a familiar pout. "And that stopped you from pining after me?"

He laughed and fought the temptation to kiss those upturned lips. "I also received some very unexpected news from my family. My mother somehow managed to get herself pregnant yet again."

"Another baby sibling." Fleur smiled softly. "It doesn't surprise me at all. Your mother is still young and from what I've seen very much in love with your father. Pregnancies occasionally happen between loving couples as I'm sure you know."

Tristan cringed. "I'm pretty sure there are methods to avoid that particular consequence."

"The potion you talk about is far from foolproof, Tristan. It doesn't work for some witches and some others refuse to take it for its side effects. I know most Veela don't..."

'I wish I'd known that last time.' He swallowed a knot of unease in his throat. "They- they don't?"

Fleur's smile thinned. "The potion is brewed with the intent to prevent pregnancy, to prevent perhaps the most vital part of femininity." The light drained from her eyes, shifting them to midnight blue as the fingers around his neck grew hot. "Taking it would confine my magic like a cage, rob me of what makes me unique..."

"Interesting," Tristan hummed. "I honestly didn't know that."

Her sweet laughter washed over his chin. "It's not something you'll have to worry about for some time anyway. We're practicing celibacy, non?"

"We both know you're only torturing yourself." Tristan rolled his eyes and kissed the tip of her nose with a grin. "Let's see how long until your inherent sexual veela nature will have you begging on your knees."

"Begging?" Her fingers fisted in his hair, lips curving into a smirk. "There are much more fun things I could do on my knees."

A hot flutter of tempting heat whispered through Tristan's veins and he pinned her flush against him, crushing his lips down to hers until her sweet taste coated his tongue and he stole a stifled moan from her throat.

"Fleur!" A sharp voice tore through the hum of music and they flinched apart.

Glazed eyes sparkled in the light of the fire and the vacant, dreamy stares of the male guests were glued on Fleur. Their female partners scowled at her, fingers clenched into fists so tight their knuckles turned white.

"Merde," Fleur winced as the bright pink blush drained from her face. "My allure..."

Her mother broke through the crowd and crooked a finger at her. "Come with me, Fleur. I need your help at the buffet."

"D'accord, Maman." She offered him an apologetic smile. "Désolé. I'll find you in a bit."

Tristan watched the two veela float through the parting crowd and vanish inside the white tent. 'I probably shouldn't have kissed her like that at her parents' ball.'

The pinched lips and hushed whispers of the other guests' prickled down the nape of his neck and along his spine as he crept past the fire and the table with drinks toward the manor.

'Let's freshen up and check out the food afterward.'

Chatter drifted from an open room attached to the entrance hall.

"Another Englishman?" Someone chuckled in French. "How many have you invited into your home, Philippe? I already saw your daughter dancing with one outside."

'Now what's this about?'

Tristan's ears perked up and he slid his wand into his palm, casting the disillusionment charm upon himself before creeping toward the corner.

Fleur's father stood slightly offside a larger group of well-dressed men around his age, each holding a drink and conversing amiably.

"Patrice, this is William Weasley, a British curse breaker from Gringotts. He assists us on one of the cases the Bureau de la Justice Magique has asked my services for," Philippe introduced them. "William, please meet Patrice St. Clair, our Minister of Magic."

"It's a pleasure, Minister," Weasley said in a strong British accent and shook his hand.

Tristan silenced his steps and crept closer along the wall inside the room.

"The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Weasley. Though I still wish there wasn't a need for your involvement in the first place." The Minister sighed and his voice dropped to whispers. "I hope you have a very good cover story because it's almost a miracle the press hasn't picked up on what happened yet."

'Picked up on what?' A tingle of suspicion crept down Tristan's spine and he held his breath. 'Could it be…'

"There is no reason for concern, Patrice," Philippe assured. "The Department D'enigma has always been very careful with what information to reveal and William has agreed to a vow of secrecy."

Patrice nodded. "I hope your... investigation into the matter is proving fruitful then?"

"We do have a few theories and even a first lead." Philippe exchanged a glance with Weasley. "Coincidentally it guides us back to William's birth country, however, any further briefing should certainly be held in the privacy of your office."

"Of course, of course, my friend. Feel free to schedule an appointment with my secretary."

"I will see to it." Fleur's father dipped his head. "Now then, if you would excuse us, Minister. There's a certain young man I've been dying to change words with tonight."

Tristan fled out of the room and back into the entrance hall with a pounding heart. He canceled his concealment and pretended to have just entered the manor when they rounded the corner.

"Tristan." Philippe's gray eyes sharpened. "Am I interrupting an attempt to sneak into my daughter's room?"

Tristan forced his breath steady and fixed a bright smile on his lips. "Not at all, sir. Fleur ditched me so I thought I'd use the time to freshen up."

Philippe laughed and motioned for the exit back to the courtyard. "Come along back outside and I'll help you find her. I've gotten quite adept at spotting my wife and daughters over the years."

He smothered a flicker of nervousness. "Thank you, sir."

The number of guests dancing by the fire had grown considerably underneath the rising full moon. Fleur, her mother, and sister stood by the table with the drinks, each holding their glass and chatting with a few guests.

A brief shadow flickered past her face when she caught them approaching, but it was quickly dispatched by a wide smile and she moved to intercept them. "Merci for picking up Tristan, Papa. I'll take him from here."

"Not so fast, Fleur," Philippe said. "You've monopolized Tristan's time so well that your Papa hasn't had a chance to even get to know him. How about you give us a few minutes and share a dance with William in the meantime?"

Weasley's face lit up like Christmas was announced early. "Sure!"

Fleur's eyes flashed dark for a split second as he offered his hand to her and the unease coiled into a tight knot in Tristan's stomach. She accepted it, shooting Tristan a pointed look.

"Perfect. Have fun, you two." Philippe clapped his hands and refilled his glass. "Come along, Tristan."

A churning cocktail of emotion cursed through his veins and clenched like a fist around his heart. Tristan followed Philippe to an unoccupied bench at a more vacated spot, dragging his eyes away from Weasley's hand on the small of Fleur's back as he accompanied her to the fire.

Philippe sat down and crossed his legs, studying Tristan in curiosity. "Now then, I must admit I was quite surprised by the first boy my daughter chose to introduce to her family."

Tristan was distracted by a flash of silver amidst the dancers and he spotted Fleur twirling underneath Weasley's arm. "And why is that?"

Philippe followed his line of sight. "You're younger than her and Fleur has always been very mature for her age. I'm wondering just what it is that she sees in you."

Tristan kept the irritation from rolling off his tongue. "Do you consider me immature?"

Philippe took a sip from his drink and folded his hands. "Tell me, Tristan... What are your plans once you've finished your education."

He frowned. "My plans, sir?"

"Your plans, yes." Philippe nodded. "Do you have a career at your ministry you'd like to pursue? Have you already taken internships in departments? Do you have friends or family in positions that could get you connected with the right people?"

Over by the fire, Weasley leaned in and whispered something to Fleur; her lips curved into the tiniest of smiles.

Tristan's heart twisted beneath his ribs. "That'll be a no for the first two..."

"And that's exactly what makes me so curious," Philippe hummed, watching Fleur dance with a small proud smile. "My daughter is the best student Beauxbatons has seen in decades. Fleur could practically drop out of school right now and still effortlessly climb any possible career path in our Ministry.

His eyes flickered back to Tristan and he leaned forward on the bench. "So why did my daughter choose a boy her junior from an - excuse me stating the obvious - less than respected family, who on top of that competes against her in a deadly tournament?"

'Because I'm different.'

Tristan felt compelled to look back at their dance, unable to keep his eyes off her, even when the small smile that graced her lips tore through his heart like a rusty nail and squeezed the breath from his lungs.

'And she promised me she was too...'

"If you want to know what your daughter sees in me, then I suggest you ask her yourself. I certainly don't lack ambition just because I don't see myself playing politics or pushing papers behind a desk for the rest of my life."

'There will be something eventually.' A fierce yearning rose in his breasts, hot as the burning coals of the fire he stared into. "Something important. Something great.'

"Tristan." Fleur's soft voice shook him from his thoughts. She stood in front of him, without Weasley by her side, glowing like a flame in the dark as she held out her hand for him and smiled softly.

Her father cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we haven't quite finished yet, Fleur."

Her warm fingers slipped through his, applying gentle pressure and lifting him off the bench. "You can get to know each other even better another time, Papa."

The dancing flames and shadows of twisting couples blurred away with a faint snap and he stumbled over soft blue carpets.

Tristan ran his eyes over the silver-blanketed canopy bed, packed bookshelves, and tiny enchanted items emitting their faint glow. "Your room?"

He tried to mingle himself out of her embrace but Fleur held tight and studied him calmly. "How did it go with Papa?"

"Absolutely perfect." Tristan forced the corner of his mouth into the brightest, most cheerful smile he could manage. "We're practically best friends already. He's even picking me up from school next weekend for a drink."

Her red lips flattened into a thin line. "Don't smile at me like that. I disliked the last fifteen minutes just as much as you did."

"Oh, I'm sure you did," he scoffed. "Your Papa tells me he's no idea what his daughter sees in me and meanwhile you suffer from smiling and dancing with Weasley."

Her blue eyes flashed pitch-black and her fingers grew hot to the point of pain in his hair. She dragged his head down to hers, crushing her lips against him and slipping her tongue into his mouth, until he broke apart and gulped for air.

Tristan blinked. "Fleur...?"

She pressed every soft curve of hers flush against him, sending his heart hammering and liquid heat swirling through his veins. "Did you see me do that with William?"

She took his hands in hers, cupping her breasts with them. "Did I let him touch me like that?"

"No," Tristan drew in a deep breath and glanced down to where his palms brushed over the thin red fabric and stiff nipples underneath it. "But I still dislike seeing him so close to you. Dance with you. Make you smile like I do... I- I hate it."

Fleur's lips crushed into his again and she pushed him back against her desk, sending pots of ink and quills rolling over the top. She broke their kiss with gasps and held his eye with a dark, burning gleam in hers. "William Weasley got a single dance with me tonight."

Her hand vanished behind her back and crimson fabric skimmed down the swell of her breasts to pool on the floor. "But I'm still yours, Tristan-" she stepped out of it, "-and that means you can have much more than a dance tonight. You can have whatever you want..."

Her whisper sang through his blood and melted into a fluttering thrill of heat down his veins.

"What happened to practicing celibacy?" He cupped her breasts in his palms, marveling at their softness and drawing gentle circles around her nipples with his thumbs.

Fleur shot him a coy little smirk and unbuttoned his dress shirt, one button at a time. Then loosened his belt and slipped her hand down his stomach, trailing her fingers up and down his hardness. "Do you want me begging on my knees already?"

"No. I want you to take it off first." He glanced down to the thin strip of red silk between her thighs, then dragged his eyes back up to hers. "All of it."

A small shiver swept through Fleur and she complied, sliding her underwear down her thighs.

He drew her close and kissed her hard, then slid his fingers down her breasts over the smooth skin of her belly and to the heat between her legs. A soft moan broke from Fleur's lips and her eyelids fluttered shut as she parted her thighs for him. She clung to him tight as he slid two fingers into her warmth and drew small circles with the edge of his thumb right above it.

"Tristan-" she bit her lip to stop the little gasps tearing from them when he curled his fingers inside her, "-just a little more. Please."

Tristan drew his fingers out of her and caught her eye as he sucked them clean one at a time, savoring her taste on his tongue. "You said I could do whatever I want." He steered her around to position her by the desk, wrapping a fistful of her hair around his wrists and tugging gently.

Fleur's breath hitched. "Whatever you want." She bent over the desk and parted her legs for him, baring the gleaming pink wetness and trickle of moisture between them. "However you want me. Just- just tell me when you're close, s'il te plait."

Tristan stepped out of his trousers and brushed his tip through her silken warmth as he lined himself up. "I will."

He eased himself into her, slowly but deeply, until her back arched off the desk and she inhaled sharply. His grasp on her blonde hair tightened until she gasped, then he drew his hips back, and pushed deep, burying himself to the hilt again and again.

"More," Fleur moaned and pushed her hips back against him. "Go as hard as you like."

Tristan pinned her down roughly and pressed her breasts against the wood of the table as he thrust deep and fast into her. He yanked her head back by her silver hair to kiss her neck and whispered in her ear. "Is this more like it?"

"Oui." Heat haze shivered above Fleur's hands and her nails scorched deep lines through the wood. "Just... just like that." Her breath hitched and she pushed back into each thrust, filling the room with the rhythmic slap of his thighs against her. "Just a little more, s'il te plait, Tristan!"

Fleur's moans grew louder, stirring the heat that pooled in his belly and threatened to burst any second. Tristan slowed his pace to bring his hand around her hip and trailed it up the gleaming wetness between her thighs. Her soft gasps led him to the wet bundle of nerves just above where they were joined and he brushed his thumb over it in tight circles until she cried out and collapsed against the desk.

'Perfect.'

Fleur's legs trembled and her upper body glowed in the faint light of the moon with a thin layer of sweat. He drew her back gently by the hair to hold her tight against him, admiring the steady rise and fall of her breasts.

Her hand dipped between her thighs. "You- you didn't finish?"

"No, not yet." He kissed her with a small smile. "And I did promise I'd tell you."

"Bon." Desire crept back into Fleur's eyes and her kisses grew hungry. She rotated his arms and drove him back until his legs met the edge of her bed and he tumbled down onto silver blankets.

She stepped up onto the bed and straddled his waist, leaning down to press her breasts against his chest and kiss him. "That means it's my turn now." Her fingers found his length and she coaxed him up and down before lining him up.

Tristan groaned as he slipped into her slick warmth again. He drank in the sight of her, burning into memory how her eyelids fluttered shut as she sank down slowly and took him inch by inch until he twitched in her tight depths.

Fleur tossed her hair behind her back and wrapped her legs around him. "Tell me what you enjoy the most." She began rolling her hips and rising up and down on him with a confident little smirk.

"It feels like you already know." Jolts of pure bliss tore through him and the knot of heat tightened in his belly each time she clenched around his base. "You're perfect, Fleur."

"Then relax-" she increased her pace and moved faster, leaning her weight forward to kiss him and brushing her hard nipples over his chest, "-and enjoy yourself."

Tristan brought one hand to the curve of her rear, fingers digging into the smooth, soft flesh and guiding her movements while his other hand cupped her breast. He raised his hips to meet her rolls, his toes curling with every wave of pleasure she sent rocking through his body.

"Tell me, Tristan," her breath came fast and light, as did his own. She brought his hand from her breast up to her lips to slip his thumb on her tongue. "Tell me how close you are."

"Fleur-" he groaned, as the pressure threatened to explode like fireworks. "Fleur, I'm-"

"Bon," she drew back further and slipped off his lap.

The groan at the loss of her tight warmth died in his throat when she bent over his crotch and closed her red lips around him, sliding down his base as she took him to the hilt.

"Fuck." He cursed and tangled his fingers in her lustrous silver hair, watching her smirk up at him coyly with blazing blue eyes.

Her hot tongue swirled around the tip and all the way along the underside of him as she bobbed her head to the rhythm of his heart and took him deep to the back of her throat.

"Fleur!" Tristan hissed as the heat cursing through his veins finally burst and his head swam in dizziness. His hips buckled up and he spurted into her mouth in hot flashes of bliss so bright they swam in his vision.

Her warm lips remained sealed around him and she kept sucking softly, fingers gently coaxing him up and down as he returned from his high. Tristan opened his eyes and blinked through the swirling dark spots.

Fleur's long hair cascaded down her shoulder and over her breasts as she leaned back to open her mouth. He caught a brief glimpse of thick, white fluid that pooled over her pink tongue, some of it dripping from her red lips and trickling down her chin to the valley between her breasts.

Her eyes found his and she swallowed, then caught what little had escaped on the tip of her fingers and sucked them clean one by one. "Do you like the way I look for you?" She licked her lips with a small smile.

A flutter of heat whispered through his veins and his softening length twitched. "You know I do."

Fleur smirked knowingly. "Today is a bit riskier for me than it was last time." She crawled on top of him and trailed a path of soft kisses from his chest to his lips. "But you don't mind the way you finished, do you?"

Tristan held her close and waited for his heartbeat to steady as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I don't mind at all." He tilted her head up and kissed her with a small, fond smile. "You made it more than worth the wait, petite Fleur."

Fleur hummed in contentment. "I did promise you I would." Her limbs wrapped around him and she snuggled into his side, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. "Now hold me warm and tight, s'il te plait, until you'd like to go again. We have a lot of fun to catch up on..."