Moves Like Jagger

Spoiler:

Shortly after Fifth Year - Summer

Breath heavy, panting filling the small tight space their bodies entwined easily. Her head lolled back creating more space for roaming lips; her skin hungered for the feeling of him against her. It was an easy replacement to the void that she had within herself. A controlled filling of lust. Rumors had been spreading about Ninette Fontaine's promiscuity long before she even understood the definition of the word. At least properly so. She was confident, loud spoken, pretty and knew it. People jealous of all these things, automatically made rumours to make themselves feel better, those who longed for such things made them to live fantasies. Ninette let them live for the simple fact that once a rumour was airborne it was impossible to kill. Part of her liked them anyway.

At least they were talking about her, right?

As she had aged, she had grown into those rumours with ease. Always appreciative of a pretty face - a trait she was highly suspicious she inherited from her grandmother - she did not see the problem with enjoying herself a little, should the pretty face appreciate her back. In the long run, she found that a little kissing here and there, wandering hands groping were harmless. No attachments seemed to be involved, and no one was hurt when they both went their separate ways, finding new pretty face to interact with. It was an ideal set up for the self sheltered girl.

Her body coiled and tensed, the action drawing her closer to the older boy, as his teeth softly pressed into the skin on her neck. A shiver and a moan released the tension, though she was still closely drawn to him - the tight back of the old fashioned carriage they had found demanded it, if nothing else. He was intoxicating in a way that most people she had 'played' with weren't. Perhaps it was just the forbidden-ness of it. Aldric Moreau had been the most eligible young man of his school year, and seeing as he had just recently graduated, making him a full two, almost three years older than herself, the former most eligible young man in Beauxbatons at all. Every girl, from first year up had their eye on the young Moreau. And who could blame them, with his rich auburn hair, that melded nicely with his slightly tanned skin, Aldric was a young man who knew he looked good and made a conscious effort to keep it so.

Ninette appreciated the effort very much as she felt the muscles of his chest ripple beneath her roaming fingers.

He was different from her other conquests in the fact that she had longed for him just as every other girl in school; it had seemed impossible, pointless. Even Ninette, with her endless confidence in who she could win over, had all but given up hope on it. Until she had felt the sudden driving need to cover other things up, to fill a hole that had been torn bigger. It was surprising what a new sort of determination could win you. In that way, Ninette felt a greater desire to him - a longing even to make him stick around, though she had very little belief that such things would happen. That being said, it did not prepare her for the wandering hand, sliding unnoticed higher and higher up her thigh, until it easily disappeared under the already pushed up skirt.

Distracted as she was, Ninette, for once, didn't notice the boys action at all, until suddenly there was movement brushing places she had not invited hands to brush. Pulling back sharply a firm hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to push the stubborn hand back. He only willing moved it back to her hemline.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was still shaky, controlled but held an undercurrent that seemed to undermine the goal she was going for.
It was dim but that didn't mean she missed his little smirk as he slid his head back to where it was, her grip strong but no match for his built muscles, before his mouth ducked back to her neck, "Oh don't be like that Fontaine. You know exactly, what I'm doing."

She was distracted for a moment, no woman wouldn't be. It was a tempting offer that he was wisely advertising, but that didn't change the fact that-that-

"No." It was clear from the way her nails dug into his skin just what she was saying no to. Her gaze was hard as she tried to squirm away from him, but their chosen destination didn't allow for that much space, even if Aldric would have. His hand seemed to respond much the same as her did, the grip he had on her upper leg, formally light, turned rather harsh as he froze in place, eyes meeting hers for a moment, before he relaxed into a smirk.

"Oh, does Fontaine have standards now. How mature of you. Though one has to question your standards if I don't meet them," his mouth had trailed along her skin, pushing himself closer as his lips met her ear to whisper, " You'd be insane to turn an opportunity like this down."

Her heart dropped, and she felt something like rage - though it was what it was covering up that she feared more - burst through her. "Oh, does Moreau believe everything he hears. You must have low intelligence if you can't figure out students lie." Ninette didn't have standards, she had rumours. Rumours that made her seem far more willing than she ever was. The truth was, despite what the school said about her she did have one standard.

Her clothing always stayed on. Always. All of it.

"Rumours have to come from somewhere Fontaine dear. If you didn't do it, you know you want to. What are you doing here if you don't want to, darling," his finger traced down her jaw, her neck and began to play with the top of her shirt, picking at the first button until it popped open. Ninette's jaw clenched but she didn't move to stop him. Did he have a point? "You brought this on yourself, you know. That little song and dance of yours. That body of yours is begging for it whether you realize it or not."

That wasn't right, was it? It was hardly her fault if he had gotten the wrong idea. She had every right to act how she wanted in every situation. Didn't she? She could say no to whoever she wanted, over whatever she wanted. It was her right. It was-

Her fault she dressed in such clothing. She waved herself in front of boys hoping to catch one of them. Ninette teased them constantly. He was right. She did go find him - what had she thought an older boy like him would do? He was- just because her rumours weren't true didn't mean his weren't either. Hadn't she been thinking...

She hadn't known what she had been thinking.

"No-no. I'm under aged you know. This isn't even-isn't even-"

He let out a growl, the hand that had still been gently worming its way down her shirt, slid violently ripping all the remaining buttons out, "Why are you so-so- impossible?! Who's going to find out. What are you planning to tell anyone." Her shirt seemed to find its way onto the floor of the carriage, and despite the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn't find the words to say anything, or motivate her arms to push him away, to pick it back up. "Are you afraid? I think 'ittle Ninette Fontaine's afraid. Don't want to admit it. Are you afraid Ninette? It's okay if you are. We all act older than we are, don't we?" The way he said it made it sound that it wasn't okay now.

It was a taunt, a dare. The one thing that she couldn't ignore - the one thing she couldn't say no to, even if part of her wanted to. His hands continued to wander, further, back to places she hadn't wanted them in the first place, she still didn't want them, but there was something blocking her from saying no. She didn't stop him.

"What do you want from me?"

She felt the smirk more than she saw it, "Isn't it obvious Ninny darling? I want you."

Maybe that was flattering too. Too bad you meant something different to Aldric, than it did to Ninette.