"Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air."
Montparnasse was dangerously handsome. He had sharp chiseled cheekbones and full lips that called to be kissed. His eyes were green and alluring. He was tall, but not a leering height. He didn't possess a looming or threatening height, unless he wielded his knife in your direction. Eponine, he harassed, was the only person he knew that was unaffected by his knife. He'd pulled the knife on her enough for her to learn that he'd be a fool to plunge the blade into the only woman that didn't give him the time of day. With his dashing appearances, threatening manners, and appealing sandy brown hair Montparnasse was quite the looker to the women of Paris. He could have had any choice of women, any age, any occupation, any walk of life and instead of indulging in some pristine flower of purity with a dowry to her name he chased a bedraggled whore that would rather spit in his eyes then kiss his lips willingly.
But he knew Eponine was a good actress, she was after all the daughter of the best thieving innkeeper in Paris. He'd been subjected to watch as Eponine worked for her father in pleasing paying gentleman. He saw the way she'd have to fight back the hatred that lay in her dark eyes. She'd play the willing "lover" to the groping and hopeless men, lure them to think she was interested in them and then make them pay. He'd sit and pretend that he didn't care that she was wrapped around some letch of a man in the middle of a crowded inn, when he truthfully wanted to plunge his blade into the man's unprotected belly. Over and over again.
Eponine never seemed repulsed when he'd push her up against a wall, trace his lips across the plains of her thin cheeks. She far too willingly pushed against him, hands passing over exactly where she knew she could drive him wild. She'd kiss him without any goading and sometimes he'd even see her look disappointed when he pulled away from the kiss too soon for her liking. She could pretend that she despised him for all that she was worth, but her body contradicted what her mouth said. Eponine would even forget herself and be the first one to make the move. She'd sway her hips teasingly as she brushed past him, lean over the bar temptingly and let the swells of her breasts enter his gaze. He was the only man that she let not pay occasionally. Of course, he'd pay her father just to insure that he'd still be in his good graces. Thenardier had told him that maybe one day he could have his daughter once she was a little too slow on the pleasing. Eponine was the only girl Montparnasse could seem himself never getting bored of.
"Bitch." Montparnasse hissed as Eponine brushed past him as he talked with Barhol, she'd let her hand brush past him. He'd caught her by the elbow, giving her a threatening glare.
"Get your hands, the hell, off of me you bastard." Eponine bit, giving him a swift kick to the shin and fighting his hold on her arm.
"If you wouldn't like to have a blade become a permanent part of your abdomen, I'd watch where your hands go." With his free hand Montparnasse flicked his knife open.
Eponine smirked, "Try me."
"Bold bitch." Montparnasse sneered, forgetting that there were several men with their eyes on them. "I'm going to make you eat those words one day."
"I'll believe you, the one day you actually put action behind those words." Eponine taunted, haughtily lifting her chin in the air. "Until then I'll continue to do as I please." She jerked free from his hold.
"I'm certain that I've punished you for that mouth before."
Eponine harshly laughed, "If you think that boyishly jabbing me a few times with your knife is punishment you should think again. You're like a sloppy little pup, 'Parnasse."
Montparnasse lashed out and gripped her jaw in his hand, poised to crush it with enough pressure. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you."
"Did I insult your manhood?" Eponine smirked, unafraid of his tight grip on her chin. "You're like a little virgin boy every time you have a go at me. Your little knife is larger than your blade." Eponine's laughter cut him to the core.
His hand swiftly moved from her jaw to her throat, "Come with me, my little whore. Perhaps you'd like to be reminded what my blade can do to you." He gave little regarded to the conversation he had been engaged in as he jerked Eponine by her throat towards the back of the Inn. "I do not enjoy little strumpets trying to make a mockery of me." He threatened, his tight grip on her throat unrelenting. "You should apologize to me."
"I'd rather not." She gritted breathlessly, kicking him between the legs lightly. Just a warning tap, not a damaging blow. "Let go of me."
"Whore!" He roared, releasing her throat in a hiss of pain. "Why do you constantly harass me? You're lying to yourself every time you fight me."
"I find no pleasure from your blade." Eponine mocked, she lunged towards him, knocking him against the wall. She pressed her forearm against his throat, gripping his shoulder for balance. Her hand slipped down between them and she grinned viciously. "Your tiny little knife."
"Drew first blood from you, didn't it now?" Montparnasse smirked, he took a hold of her wrist, keeping her offending hand right where it was. Right where they both wanted it to be.
Eponine felt her cheeks heat with a rare blush. "Touché." Her blush vanish as she smirked, "However, I've advanced passed my innocence and I actually know what I'm doing now, unlike you. You make love like a little boy, sloppy and desperate."
In a flash of limbs Montparnasse had reversed their positions, she was pinned against the wall by his weight. He planted a knee between her legs and smirked devilishly at her. "It's sloppy because it's wild; it's desperate because it's unbridled." He fisted his hand on her hair, jerking her head back to reveal her tender throat, his lips and teeth scraping along the smooth white skin. He could feel her shudder beneath his touch, her body responding to his with agonizing bliss.
"I hate you." She hissed, as she pushed against him. He was too dressed up today. She wore only a simple, worn, skirt and a ratty blouse tucked into it while he wore far too many layers. He had black breeches on, a fine cotton undershirt, an embroidered gold and black vest, a dark purple tail coat, and a gold cravat. Her fingers had already done fast work with tearing the knot out of the cravat and prying it from his neck. Fumbling fingers worked at the tailcoat buttons, cursing him for wearing so many layers.
"I hate you."
"Yet you contradict," Montparnasse teased, laughing at her as she did her best to divest him of the tailcoat, pushing and shoving at the material to get it over his shoulders. Her skirt was already bunched up around her waist, he'd only need to unlace his breeches to be done with this. But he liked to see Eponine worked into a tizzy, he loved to see her desperate. Desperate for him.
He met her lips in a searing kiss, the clash of teeth and tongue resounded between them. Her nails dug into his back through the thin material of his undershirt. He hadn't even noticed when she'd rid him of the vest. "Beg for it."
Eponine groaned at his order, wiggling against the bulge of his trousers as he lifted her hips. "No."
"Beg for it. Beg for the blade. Beg for what you know you want, what you crave. You can't lie to yourself anymore, Eponine. We've played this game for years, but the last thing I want to hear is you mocking what we both you know you crave. What you imagine as you haplessly screw some other man. You know it's me you imagine." He growled against the curve of her neck, blinded by the desire for her as her hips were mercilessly teasing him.
"I won't beg."Eponine protested, cursing her obstinacy as she radiated with need. "Why would I beg for someone who repulses me?" In defiance to her own words she drew her lips to his, kissing him with desperation.
"Tell me that it's me you want."
"It will never be you." Eponine snarled, at her wits end with desire.
"Name one other person who makes your skin crawl with desire. Name one other person who makes you wild with need. Name him." Without hesitation he took her, tired of goading her into begging for it.
"Montparnasse!" She shouted, clutching desperately to his back, trying to claim purchase in the soft material of his shirt.
A smug smile formed on his lips as he stilled his hips. "Is that so? The one person who makes you burn is named Montparnasse?"
"You bastard!" Eponine growled, "That wasn't fair. Dirty scoundrel. Let go of me now."
Montparnasse let go of her, forcing her to use her own tired muscles to support her weight against the wall as he took what he knew was his. He didn't need her to say anymore, he knew her well enough to know that her digging nails and purring moans were all the reassurance that he needed to know that he was the man that drove her wild.
"Time after time, I think Lord what's the use. Time after time I think it's just no good."
Eponine was quiet for the rest of the evening after the thieves continued with their meeting. Montparnasse was congratulated for putting the bitch in her place and Eponine was laughed at by the men. Montparnasse gave her a sympathetic smile as she tried to hide the humiliation on her face. He hadn't intended for them to jeer at her, but she'd asked for it by starting the whole thing. He hadn't shown her who was boss, she'd shown him. She was utterly in control of him and they both knew it.
She was tame for this evening, the tension between them lessened by their quick meeting in backroom. She only got rude with him when she wanted him, they both knew how she operated. He hated to see her looking sheepish about the whole situation, he much preferred when she stuck her thin little chin up in the air and glared at him like she intended to kill him. She was the only woman who fought him and he loved that about her.
Montparnasse loved how Eponine acted, but he'd never love her.
"Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose."
A/N: Lyrics by Florence and the Machine "You've Got the Love".