Arthur Kirkland swallowed. He hooked the collar of his argyle sweater, adjusting it; the room suddenly got twenty degrees hotter. Damn it...why me?
Françoise Bonnefoy sauntered in the room, her hips swinging more than usual, smirking at the multiple pairs of eyes that immediately landed on her, scanned her perfect body, following her every move.
Keeping a bored expression on her face, she glanced around the classroom, her sapphire orbs landing on a rather flustered face, the deep, emerald eyes purposely avoiding her gaze.
He was in only one of her classes. It was rather boring in the other classes without him to attempt to seduce.
She aims a smile with the safety off
And she's not afraid to use it
She holds my gaze just long enough
For me to feel like I'm gonna lose it
Arthur's cheeks slowly reddened. She was staring at him oh my dear lord she's looking at me focus on something else focus on something else focus on something else
The knuckles of his hand gripping his mechanical pencil turned white; he tried to concentrate on next week's homework but found it impossible. She was smiling.
At him.
It wasn't a sultry smirk like usual. It was a genuine grin. Those damned full lips curved upwards, smile soft, her mouth looking oh so delicious, her deep Pacific-ocean blue irises with soft intentions, but the glaze of lust still present.
The blond reluctantly looked up. He intended to glance up and glance back down to his paper, but it didn't happen that way.
She stared back at him, not blinking. She cocked her head to the side a bit, and he gulped. Arthur counted the seconds she looked at him while he looked back.
Seven.
And then she teasingly turned away.
All the Briton could feel were his knees weakening to jelly, even when he was sitting down in the desk chair. The lead of the pencil broke off a little, his breaths becoming deeper to try to control himself. The sexy come-hither aura she held, it was enticing, alluring, it was irresistible.
And I know that she knows
That I know what she's doing to me
And she knows when she calls
I'll fall for her every time
Arthur bit his bottom lip and took deep, shuddering breaths. He tried to focus on the blank sheet of paper in front of him, but his heart betrayed his head, and he glanced up, bottle-green irises searching the room for something, nothing, everyone, no one, everything, someone.
She caught his eye, as always, and winked, mouthing for him to meet her after class.
Her soft-looking lips moved so gracefully with every syllable she mouthed, he barely paid attention to anything else but her mouth.
The British teen's heart fluttered again, his pulse quickened, and he ducked his head slightly to hide his blush.
That happens every time.
Cause I'm wrapped, I'm wrapped around
Your perfect little finger
And I'm trapped inside the cell
Of every sound she makes
She is my weakness, she is my weakness
Arthur would stare at her hands.
After staring admiringly at her eyes and the rest of her porcelain-doll-perfect face, he would study her hands. Her long, dexterous fingers would flit gracefully about her desk, picking up the pencil, holding the water bottle, shuffling papers, waving hi to her friends Isabel and Julchen, waving flirtingly at Arthur.
The nails were always neither short nor long, the cuticles were perfect, the pinky finger was rather long, the thumb was slender for a typical thumb, the left hand's ring finger looked rather naked.
Her right hand's middle finger wore an Arbre aux Songes ring, the white gold and tourmaline glimmering in the fluorescents that flattered no one but Françoise. On the adjacent index finger was an Amour en Cage ring. The mandarin garnets have always caught his eye in the light reflection.
On her perfect, unmarred neck rested a matching Arbre aux Songes necklace. The last few small jewelled pendants disappeared teasingly under her shirt, into her well-endowed slutty-modest cleavage.
Arthur would be lying if he said that he didn't stare at that area as well.
Her slim right wrist carried a Folie de Prés bracelet.
How was he to know the names of the jewelry from Van Cleef & Arpels?
They were from the Midsummer Night's Dream collection.
A look from her is like oxygen
How would I keep breathing without her
She breaks a whole as she looks away
Now my heart ain't beating without her
He was at every possible situation to come in contact with Françoise.
If she dropped her pencil case in the halls, he would rush back from the other end of the hall and pick it up for her like a gentleman. If she furrowed her elegant eyebrows at a math problem, he would ask if she needed help like the studious class president he was. If she was just walking in the hallways, he would speed up his paces to "accidentally" brush his hand against hers as he passed her.
And Arthur would always lose his breath; his heart would skip twenty beats whenever she smiled coyly, whenever he would meet her gaze.
And I know that she knows
That I know what she's doing to me
And she knows when she goes
I'll come for her every time
Arthur had trouble concentrating yet again.
She was walking. She was walking to the seat right next to his damn you teacher why did you make us partners
He tried not to stare at her hips as she passed his seat and plopped down onto the chair next to his.
Françoise pulled up the plastic chair, the metal screeching against the floor tiles. She looked up at the Briton from under her eyelashes, to make sure he was glimpsing at her.
Sure, he was trying to look away, but the frequent glances couldn't have been helped.
Françoise bit her bottom lip seductively and leaned slightly towards the worksheet on the desk, shoulders touching his and supple breasts resting on his arm.
Arthur blinked, many times, and couldn't help but shudder involuntarily at the feel of them, how he longed to fondle them, touch them, play with them, make her his at night-
The Briton's windpipe closed off when she rested her head on his shoulder, asking how to do problem number 3. He couldn't think of anything but her lips, her sinful lips, right next to his neck and right ear and dear god her hot breath
Arthur leaned slightly towards the touch, and Françoise rested her mouth on his neck, for a fleeting moment, and broke off that contact.
He felt her lips curve up into a smirk as she let go.
Damn her; she knows.
Cause I'm wrapped, I'm wrapped around
Your perfect little finger
And I'm trapped inside the cell
Of every sound she makes
She is my weakness, she is my weakness
Of course he would follow her when she motioned him to.
Arthur smiled apologetically at his cousin Alfred, who was going to eat with him at lunch, and pointed at the French girl. Alfred nodded, a shit-eating smirk on his lips as he mouthed to Arthur, "Get some."
Arthur motioned the cut-throat gesture at Alfred and scowled.
He kept the scowl on when Françoise told him she usually ate at the far hallway's stairwell.
"Yeah, whatever."
Françoise raised an eyebrow and smiled a little and added a bounce to her step every now and then. Arthur scowled deeper at the skirt, for it was far too long for it to fly up every time she skipped.
They sat down on the stairs. It was dead silent. No one else was around.
As Françoise ate some cherries, Arthur noticed she pulled out a double-knotted cherry stem out of her mouth.
He admired her for being so flamboyant. Stuck-up, maybe a little, but she was perhaps smarter than him, much more clever than he was, had an array of friends and admirers that he could only dream for, had a sense of humour that he envied.
He admired her so.
He loved her so.
It was infuriating.
She was alone with him and she wasn't saying anything, she wasn't doing anything.
He was going to clear his throat and speak up, when she scooted closer to him and closed the distance between their mouths.
I know it might sound crazy
But I don't wanna let go
Now I don't mind spending every night if you don't let go
Arthur's eyes shot open in surprise, and slowly closed as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer than she was.
Françoise, not breaking the contact, climbed up onto his lap and placed both arms around his neck. She tilted her head to get more, feel more.
It started innocent, with a few closed-mouthed kisses, and Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He pried open her lips and initiated the open-mouthed ones.
The Briton nipped at her top lip multiple times, perhaps more furiously than he wished for, this was what he dreamed for at night, and it was finally happening, and she felt so good
He felt her tongue against his teeth, moving between the rows of straight white teeth, looking for an entrance. He chuckled, and whispered, "Quite eager, are we?"
Françoise bit his bottom lip softly, and ran her hand down his green sweater vest. "I could say the same thing for you, mon amour."
He couldn't take it anymore. He thrust his own tongue into her open mouth, tasting the hot cavity, the taste of cherries still on her tongue she tastes better than I've ever dreamt of
The pink appendages battled for dominance until Arthur eventually won. He continued to thrust his tongue in her mouth, in and out, in and out, in and out. Françoise moaned against his lips, rubbing her hand on his left pectoral.
And then they ran out of breath.
Arthur, who was breathing quite heavily, asked with a blush, "What was that for?"
Françoise smirked, her full lips glistening in the rather dim lighting, her breaths short. "I know you like me,"
"So am I just a toy to you?" He scoffed, and frowned at her.
"Non."
I know it might sound crazy
But I don't wanna let go
Now I don't mind spending every night if you don't let go
"Every class, I keep looking at you; I kissed you twice just today. Do you not think I am flirting?"
"Oh hell, I knew you were flirting. You flirt with bloody everyone. It's not special. I'm not special to you,"
"I don't flirt with everyone. They merely admire," She flicked her wrist. "You are the one I wish to impress. You're special to me. I'm special to you,"
They pressed their foreheads together, short breaths coming out in sync. "Oh, yeah? Prove you're not just playing me like you do everyone else."
She kissed him again, softly, this time her lips curling up into a genuine grin. "Do you hear me say that I love anyone? I do not even say it to Julchen or Isabel. And they're my best friends,"
Arthur scowled and opened his mouth to speak.
She closed them with another kiss. "I know you know I've had previous boyfriends. Have they ever heard a single "I love you" out of me?"
"No..." He whispered.
She smirked again. "I knew you would know.
"I don't wish to let you go. I'm your weakness, you are mine,"
"Pretty bold of a statement, I must say." Arthur ran a hand down her side.
"I don't hear you objecting to it."
Cause I'm wrapped, I'm wrapped around
Your perfect little finger
And I'm trapped inside the cell
Of every sound she makes
She is my weakness, she is my weakness
He continued pressing light kisses to her neck. "When does lunch end?"
"Hm, not for a while- OH, Arthur..." He had bit softly at the base of her neck.
He picked up her right hand and lifted it up to meet his lips. The fingers were slender and dainty as usual. "You're so beautiful."
She lightly blushed and wrapped her other hand around his. "I could say the same to you, mon amour."
Practicing writing make-out sessions. god that sucked
Song is Weakness by The Wanted.
Check out my other fic Kill the Sound if you like FrUK, PruCan, and/or Spamano. It's a band AU...
Thanks for reading, so please review and tell me what you think!
