Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation)

The reassurances came as they walked, and as much as Jacques wanted to believe the words, he was struggling to see a route in which it would all work out. The trip had been nothing short of fruitless in his wish to bring Elenore back to the family, and he was going to have to return to the Palace empty handed.

The door to his suite loomed in to view and the functionality that would usually have been present to bring the man to doing the necessary card swipe to gain access to the room failed him in that moment. Instead the door just seemed to loom ominously before him, reminding him that as soon as he entered the room, he would be left on his own. With his own thoughts, and without the comforting touch of the witch beside him.

Azalea's gentle prompt didn't work to prompt the man from his stupor, either.

Instead the slender fingers of Azalea's slipped beneath his suit jacket. Careful in their persuit of his wallet, and yet...

The Frenchman caught himself as Azalea opened the door, his mind wandering to goals he wasn't really aware of.

"Don't worry, I'm here."

The faltering gave out long enough for Azalea to draw him in to the room. The lights came on in the suite, and Jacques followed without question. Azalea's route had been towards the bathroom, perhaps trying to urge him to wash up, but Jacques had gently turned them towards the lounge area, and the sofa instead. The witch had not tried to stop him as they sat next to one another, his arm still comfortably around her shoulders from the position she'd been supporting him, their hands still intertwined.

Comfort, that's just what the man needed as he drew the witch a little closer to him, his head resting against the top of Azalea's as he took the moment to calm himself.

Jacques' shoulders eased slightly in the few moments that passed, the tension easy to forget when your mind grew slightly foggier from alcohol consumption, and the subtle perfumed smell of your companion. The circles still turning around and around on the back of his palm were almost too good at their job...

Turning his head Jacques pressed a tender kiss in to the side of Azalea's head. A thank you to the witch for everything she'd done for him that day. The action must have been unusual of him, or to the witch, because Azalea moved enough for her eyes to meet him. Tenderness reflected back at him, understanding... something.

The Frenchman leaned forward, slowly but sure of it's purpose.

If the witch before him didn't pull away, if she stayed where she was, their lips would meet in a soft kiss. A kiss that would be followed by another of the same manner if she didn't pull away from him. The hand held by Azalea's would move carefully to the witch's lap in the same time, his fingers finding the soft skin just above the witch's knee that had found itself freed from the skirt that was split higher than he'd realised before, and returning the gentle circular movements Azalea had provided him with before now. No movement came fast, all slow, and measured.

But not lacking in their intent for more, if the right signal was received.

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~ Profile ~
~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

Azalea didn't have a game plan exactly. the witch had harbored notions of getting him washed up and then into bed before retiring to her own rooms but Jacques was clearly not ready to let go. The first sign of him still being in the present since they had stopped at the door showed itself when he gently steered their course through their linked hands. Truthfully, it wasn't too late. Not even midnight so if he wanted to sit, she could do so with him. They had to board his plane well after breakfast so it wasn't like they would miss any sleep.

Not that Azalea would sleep anyway.

So the brunette was quiet happy to sit with him in silence, holding his hand and drawing the circles he seemed to find comfort in. In a way, he reminded her of Ethan when the boy was too tired yet refused to let go of her arm. It had worried Azalea at first, thinking that Ethan somehow understood that his mother's presence was a limited resource that he had to hold tightly on to. Thankfully her worries had been abated somewhat with Amanda's stories about her own girls doing the same when they were toddlers.

The witch smiled softly when she felt him kiss the side of her head affectionately. He really was a sweetheart and did not deserve so much responsibility at such a young age. As he leaned more heavily on her, the dip in the sofa pushed her closer to him, something the witch didn't notice until she raised her gaze to his.

And found him entirely too close, and closing that distance.

It happened before she could stop him, and it happened so softly, Azalea wasn't even sure if it had been an accident or intentional. As Jacques Clement's lips touched hers, feather soft and hesitant, the witch found herself wondering if it had just been the dip of the sofa, or the way his head had been angled. The confusion that made her stop still forged the path for a second kiss. Yes, a definite, intentional kiss being lightly peppered on her whisky glossed lips.

And his hands moving to her thigh, gentle, but also unmistakable in what their intentions were. Even in this position, the witch had to marvel at his lack of speed and forcefulness as his fingers stopped just above her knee, forming the same circles she had been treating him to for the last half an hour.

How she wished she would interpret it as reciprocation. How badly she wanted to believe there was nothing but friendly intent behind his actions.

But the man's kisses, not meeting any resistance because she was still in shock, were growing more exploratory. As they moved to the corner of her mouth, Azalea left out a soft sound in the hope that it would get the signal across. "Ja-cques," she half whispered, trying to inch away from him without embarrassing the Frenchman or hurting his feelings. Unfortunately, her movement combined with the weight of his arm on her slid Azalea further into his embrace, the cushion beneath her slipping lower, making her slide into the concave space their combined weight had created.

The action also unfortunately brought her legs lower, her heels slipping from underneath her foot. And as her leg slid down, his hand automatically slid up the soft flesh, now resting just beneath the highs slit of her skirt.

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Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation) - Page 2 Rsz_gr10

Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation) - Page 2 Rsz_az10

Just One Thing Makes Me Forget (Azalea -- T/W: Sexual Situation) - Page 2 Rsz_li10

Azalea's body shifted closer to his as he pressed the second kiss to her lips, inviting him in for another kiss that gently caressed the corner of her lips. Lips that parted to softly manage his name as his fingers found the soft skin of her legs beneath the slit skirt.

It sounded... so right, the two syllables leaving Azalea's lips in that moment, and... a request for more.

More that came as the witch moved closer to him once more, his fingers ghosting up the witch's thigh until the material met to signify the end of the slit. Intentional or not on Azalea's part, Jacques Clement would not complain as his fingers languidly caressed the soft planes of the exposed skin that he'd been willing given to play with.

And with the utterance of his name had come the small parting of Azalea's lips. Another kiss peppered the witch's top lip affectionately with a kiss, drawing it back towards him slightly in the movement. The Frenchman shifted slightly in his seat to face the witch more before another kiss was pressed fully upon the soft lips that were still tentative with the situation. Another time Jacques might have remembered the boyfriend he'd picked Azalea up from just two days ago. Another time, he would have never blurred the lines between the friendship he'd created with the witch before him.

But tonight, he'd forgotten all the things that had kept him from blurring the lines.

In favour of just being in the comfort of the witch's embrace.

The man's hand flattened upon the planes of witch's thigh as he pressed another kiss to her lips. This time, his tongue moved forth to caress Azalea's bottom lip, looking for permission to deepen the kiss as his other hand moved from the comfort of the sofa, and instead to the witch's neck, lightly stroking his fingers down the soft skin in an act of encouragement of the situation he'd created.

Just one clear sign, and the man would press forth with the need that was well and truly building inside of him in that moment.

And the escape Azalea promised him in that moment.

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~ Profile ~
~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

Her thoughts running a mile a minute, Azalea knew she had to stop it before he got too far. The longer she indulged him, the more awkward it would be later. And the witch wasn't indulging in the first place... No, she was merely looking for an easier out for him, a way to refuse that would leave their friendship intact and their recently found camaraderie free of awkwardness of guilt.

Guilt, the brunet realized as Jacques began to kiss her in earnest, gently sucking at her bottom lip and parting it slowly. That was what was missing from this encounter. The moment she had shared with Jake before the summer had... perhaps been shorter than this, perhaps not. But that moment... she had wanted. The red hot flash of desire between them had been mutual. That was why she had felt so much guilt afterwords.

Yet with the Clement, there was no heat and definitely no guilt. And even if she wasn't indulging him, the witch couldn't deny he was indulging her. As his hand softly reached the top of her thigh, stroking the skin there gently, even she had to admit - in a faraway space detached from her body - that he knew what he was doing.

Her earlier attempt at a small protest had been sealed away the full kiss but Azalea saw her chance anew when the man attempted to gently pry her lips apart. She needed to say something now, something that would salvage everything and not punish him for having been vulnerable with her, more vulnerable than he had been with his family or his girlfriend. Azalea couldn't have been forceful with him even if she had wanted to, and she had never wanted to in the first place.

Parting her lips the witch tried once again, taking a breath and moving her tongue outwards slightly to say the words....

Just as his fingers ghosted over the exposed skin of her throat, making the American witch shudder involuntarily. The soft touch sent shivers up and down her spine simply for where it was places, accidentally making her tongue bump against his own lip in the process as she arched her back slightly from the shivers.

Compromising the integrity of their precariously perched position.

The cushion beneath her had dipped to its lowest point at this rate. Jacques' additional action of facing her and leaning his weight towards her had done the rest. The moment she arched backwards, Azalea fell back into the sofa. Her arms, intended to halt Jacques's progress by curling into his jacket, instead served as her purchase on the man that, inevitably, brought him down on top of her.

Fuck, she thought as his lips descended on hers once more. Fuck, fuck fuck.

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The gentle probe the man had made towards the witch's lip had been hesitant at first, perhaps Azalea was still trying to decide on what she wanted to do, perhaps it needed another gentle kiss to show her that this was okay. Jacques' mind was moving towards that much in that moment, readying for another coaxing, full kiss to the witch's lips when it happened.

The touch to Azalea's neck had proved fruitful in its intent, pressing the witch forth towards him. The witch's breasts had pressed against his side in that moment, reaffirming everything he needed to know as her tongue batted back against his lip.

What Jacques had not accounted for, though, had been the shift in Azalea's body would not be compensated by his own. No, the alcohol had played its cards right in that moment, leaving the careful movements Jacques had opted for to be thrown to the wind. Instead, Azalea's arms pulled at his unbalanced frame, drawing him down on to top of her in that moment. Her fingers had wrapped themselves tightly to his jacket in the process, only proving that she wanted him in the same manner he needed her in that moment.

Jacques' lips had not wasted another moment then, devouring the witch's lips as his own. The sign of consent he'd needed allowing him to let go of thought as he instead pressed forth purely with action. The tongue that had gently probed at the witch's lips before came forth much more firmly in that moment. Confidently pressing between the witch's lips to explore.

The fingers that had been trailing light caresses down the column of Azalea's neck moved to the witch's hair out of habit from experience with Kiranjeet as the kiss grew deeper. But with each kiss came the growing desire for more, more that simple kisses would not satisfy.

Jacques' hand on the witch's thigh kneaded firmly in to the skin as he kissed the witch shifting his weight once more to gain more access to the witch in the process. The hand on the witch's thigh let go of it's hold in favour of moving the skirt higher, inching it up towards Azalea's waist from between them.

Unable to concentrate on both clearly, Jacques' lips moved from Azalea's lips down to her throat, kissing the column tenderly, hungrily, and likely with enough need to leave it's mark in place. The skirt would find it's highest point at that time, and with it, the Clement heir would find himself at the witch's underwear, and about ready to pull them down from their current home.

And with the same hope Azalea's hands would find their way to his belt to help him too.

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~ Profile ~
~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

It was laughable really, the series of events that had lead to her current situation. Yet as Jacques Clement pressed his lips firmly against hers, his tongue probing deep into the caverns of her mouth, the last thing Azalea wanted to do was laugh. Far from laughing, the witch couldn't even speak as he hungrily devoured her through kisses growing in both vigor and urgency.

Uncurling her fingers from his jacket, the witch made to push him away. With her lips engaged elsewhere, she couldn't speak but she could still let him know this was not okay. The witch had no doubt in her mind that he would stop once told to. Azalea legitimately could not imagine a world in which Jacques Clement forced himself on unsuspecting women. No, it was on her to try and find a good way to end it and in her quest to do so, she may have unintentionally encouraged his advances.

And it was now up to her to fix it.

Getting ready to press her palms against him in the universal sign of pushing someone away, the witch gently tried to disengage her lips from his....

Only to have him move towards her throat next.

The hands about ready to push him off fell slack by her side as a new sensation crept up her body, one that alerted her to where his other hand was. A second later, more shivers danced up and down her spine as his fingers purposefully crept under her skirt.

"Jac-" she tried only to have the word turn into a gasp as his lips and teeth made quick work of her throat, probably leaving a mark for her to deal with tomorrow. "Ja-Jacques..." she tried again as his hand inched up to her waist.

"Please..." she tried again, fumbling until her hand found his at the string of her thong, holding it in place before the Clement heir could discard the small amount of cloth guarding her modesty. "Stop."

Waiting for him to understand, Azalea tried to meet his gaze, being as kind as she could in that moment as her hand brushed his away from her waist. We can't, her eyes said clearly as the cloud of alcohol surrounding him parted and understanding begin to dawn.

Understanding of what they had almost done.

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The depths of anticipation had clouded everything in the young man's mind as he worked towards freeing Azalea of her clothes. Thinking had long since escaped him, and the sound of the gasped syllables of his name as he kissed the witch's neck, and the shiver that followed down her spine were only clear indications that he was not the only one who wanted this.

"Please..."

The man did not need to be told twice.

But as his fingers hooked the material of the witch's underwear, her hand found his, and held it firmly in place. For a moment the whole thing did not register with Jacques' mind, he didn't process what each action meant, but his lips paused as the next word left Azalea's lips.

"Stop."

Realisation hit far too fast then. Jacques pulled back from his position of nuzzling the witch's neck to find Azalea's eyes on his. The message was quite clear there, as if the spoken word had not been enough to begin with. The hand on the witch's waist moved away slowly from her body, not because he didn't want to move back, but because the realisation of his own actions was creeping over him with each second. The Frenchman pushed himself back up from the sofa in the next moment, before offering his hand to Azalea to help her back up in to a sitting position.

"I'm... really sorry, Azalea. I shouldn't have... I didn't... I'm sorry." The man settled on, because he could not excuse his behaviour. And the sobering feeling of being rejected would serve him right for forgetting himself. Further than that, though, Jacques Clement did not know what more to say as he looked down at his hands that had settled in his lap.

Anything, not to see the judgement in his half-sister's eyes for the monumental mistake he'd just made with the friendship.

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~ Profile ~
~ Clement Heir ~ 24 ~ Athletic ~ 5'11" ~ French Accent ~

Thanks to .V0ldiemort @ TDA for my signature!

Just as she had known he would, the Auror to be stopped immediately. As soon as the words registered, his hands withdrew from her body and his lips from her throat. The fingers entangled in her hair were slower, but only to spare her any pain of pulled hair follicles. In five seconds flat, he was completely off her and the couch, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself.

"I'm... really sorry, Azalea. I shouldn't have... I didn't... I'm sorry."

"No-" the witch began even before he had finished, taking his hand and righting her position. It took another minute to fix her skirt which had ridden too far up and her blouse which had ridden too far down. But once she was presentable enough the witch rose from the sofa too, taking a few steps towards him so she could stand right in front of him.

"Nothing happened Jacques, we're fine," she insisted, reaching out to catch him in a warm hug. The witch would still do all she could to make sure there was no lingering awkwardness between them. "I promise, we're okay. This doesn't change anything. We're always going to be friends no matter what."

It took a few minutes for him to be comfortable in her hug, remaining rigid as she murmured reassurances into his ear while rubbing his back. Whatever had transpired in his alcohol fogged haze was not any grounds to punish him and the brunette would never do that.

"Besides, you were just confused. You probably missed Kiranjeet, it happens," she soothed, leading him to an armchair and seating him down. From a nearby jug, she poured him a glass of water before taking a seat opposite him. The man already felt bad enough about himself, Azalea was not about to make him feel worse by running out of there as if she had been victimized.

She would stay as long as it took for the young man to forgive himself his own transgressions.

Because he was the only one he needed forgiveness from. All Azalea would have to offer him, was unconditional friendship and understanding.

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