A club in the heart of London
Around midnight

Aria both despised and adored the day known as Valentine's. Despised, because of everything it stood for and the general lack of taste in its celebration and adored, because of the positively delicious possibilities. Whether an outrageous party or taking advantage of some poor, lonely soul, Arianne was all for it. Tonight, she hadn't left the house with any particular thought in mind other than to have a good time—do some shots, dance like nobody was watching, and flirt shamelessly. So, dressed for the occasion, a very well-disposed Arianne made her way to downtown London.

She'd hopped through various clubs so far, collecting free drinks with a charming fake smile on her lips until she eventually reached one venue that seemed to hold everything she wished for. She took a seat at the bar and ordered her signature White Russian, while curiously examining the current state of the club. It would do for now. After a couple of drinks and a few walks to the dance floor she returned to the bar stool and noticed a rather interesting man... beautiful features, a superb contrast between delicate and manly, fair eyes and perfectly kissable lips. Arianne smiled to herself, and swung her legs, rotating the chair to face him. She leaned over the bar to call the bartender and ordered a couple of tequila shots.

"Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur" she said, chuckling to the handsome man. "Might I interest you in sharing a couple of shots with me?" She smiled slyly, lowering her lashes over her eyes for just a second. "I'm afraid shots can turn into a rather tedious affair if drunk by one's self" she explained, settling one hand on the bar and slowly tapping along with the song playing. She follower her arm with her eyes and raised her gaze just in time for the tray of glasses, salt and lemon slices to be placed in front of her. She bit into her lip softly, before looking back at the man and gesticulating to the free stool next to her. "Tequila is such a mesmerizing drink is it not" she raised an eyebrow, laughing softly, as she crossed her legs, exposing a long bare leg barely covered in a flimsy see through fabric.

Speed dating had proven to be just as useless as he could have expected. It wasn’t that they’d set him up with a bloke –for that part had been mildly entertaining and a fun little experiment-, nor that it had been an evening with utterly no positive points or flirting. It was more the very simple fact that the decorations had made him likely to vomit, and he’d never managed to get the bloody flying cupid to return with his beer. By some point in the night, as a matter of fact, beer would have no longer been enough to succeed in calming his desire for a drink: he’d birthed a need for something quite a tad bit stronger. So, as he left Hogsmeade –with the nagging thought that he’d actually like a second encounter with his blind date, if only to finish it all off and find out what that was about simply for the hell of it, it was not yet midnight and he wasn’t quite ready to get to bed yet.

With a quick snap he popped into a dark alleyway, the pumping sound of upbeat music teasing his eardrums and bringing a dark smile to his face: muggle clubs weren’t often his thing, simply because wizarding venues had a tendency to prove far more interesting, but this particular place was one he came by often when he felt like finding a quick girl up for grabs. Dropping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, Adam pulled up a pack of cigarettes and quickly lit one –Izola be damned, ever since she’d fixed his leg in Hogsmeade he’d found himself slowly returning to the freaking vice. Inhaling, Adam stepped out of the darkness and into the bright lights of the street, where the action began: couples walked down the sidewalks holding hands and smiling like bloody idiots, while lines formed outside the club. The Cursebreaker wasn’t one for waiting, and, as luck would have it, he knew the guard on duty this evening. In less than a second, he was inside.

Debauchery in pink might have been the theme of the night from the decorations, and Adam was happy to stain the atmosphere with a bit more smoke as he exhaled –it wasn’t technically allowed to smoke inside, but the rules were made to be broken in his not-so-humble opinion. Slowly, he pushed his way through the dance floor, bodies sliding against him, hips swaying against his thigh, hands groping at places that shouldn’t have so openly been groped –although at that, Adam simply smirked and groped right back, while holding his cigarette above the crowd so as to not run the risk of burning any innocent soul.

After a few minutes, he managed to reach the bar, where he slowly slid onto one of the stools and signaled one of the bartends –a muggle woman not much older than twenty, who wore a short with its neck so low-cut it didn’t leave too much to the imagination. Adam winked at her. “I’ll take a vodka. Straight,” He commented, with his charming smile on –and apparently it was on full effect for the girl, as his drink was placed before him rather quickly, and he grinned as he watched lean quite seductively against the bar. Adam dragged his tongue against his lips, and was about to ask her when she had a break, when a voice spoke besides him.

The French words and accent were, perhaps, the first reason he turned towards the source –her slender legs through an almost see-through skirt were the reason he kept his attention on the woman. “I’d ask why you’re here alone in the first place,” He said, as his lips spread and he downed his vodka in a single sip –the burning making his eyes water slightly, but the possibility of getting totally wasted not at all a bother-, before standing and moving towards the empty stool at her side. “But I’ve learnt not to press my luck.”

“There’s a few mesmerizing things going on tonight,” He said, voice husky as he pulled the offered try towards the edge of the bar, grey eyes on the stranger: blonde hair, blue eyes, an air around her that was utterly alluring. His leather jacket might have been expensive, but it wasn’t quite up to par with the way she was dressed –still, it wasn’t as if clothing mattered in the larger vision of the night’s possibilities. His fingers curled around one of the shot glasses, as he looked at her and shrugged. “Together?”

Oh dear Merlin. Arianne would've liked nothing better than to scowl and roll her eyes at the man. Was this really what passed for hookup lines these days? She'd rather have them silent or at least inarticulate and grunting than having to deal with this sort of pathetic excuses at flirting. Nonetheless, this was not a man she wanted for his outstanding conversational skills so she settled for smiling mischievously and putting her best intrigued face—one perfectly arched eyebrow, eyelashes lowered just so over her eyes and a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She gave him a small wink and dragged the tray closer to her. "Patience, Monsieur" she said amused as she took the salt shaker between her fingers. "The first shot must always be savored properly" she mused raising her eyes to look at him. She raised her arm at level with her face and gave a slow, long lick to her wrist while pinning him with her gaze. Then she shook the salt over the small wet patch of skin and placed the small container back on the table. She took the shot glass between her thumb and index finger and a slice of lemon between her middle and ring finger. Satisfied with her preparation she raised the glass and inclined her head with a dangerous little smile. "Santé" she added before placing her mouth over her wrist, then swiftly emptied her glass and bit into the slice of lemon. She sucked on it, then dragged it slowly from between her lips and placed it in the empty glass.

"That certainly feels much better" she chuckled. "However, the temperature seems to have risen, wouldn't you say" she asked perfectly innocent with a faux-dazed expression. She took her jacket off with slow, calculated moves and folded it neatly over the back of her bar stool. "Do you dance?" she asked raising an eyebrow as she leaned into the back of the chair, supporting her elbows behind her.

With the threat at warmth coming dangerously close to his knuckles, Adam let the fag fall, one foot systematically falling to crush the dying embers until they were entirely unlit. The woman, meanwhile, had pulled the try away from him and closer to her, with a teasing lesson on patience. He wasn’t the type that liked to wait for his treats, but rubbing the tip of his tongue against his teeth he nodded and kept the smile on his lips, grey eyes bright and sinful. “Patience is only to be observed if there’s a reward for it,” He muttered, internally wincing at the horrible line, complexion not changing a bit on the outside. He curled his body sideways, one elbow resting against the top of the bar, the other arm hanging at his side, torso twisted in her direction so he could look at her properly. She was exquisitely beautiful, and the French only served to further her allure.

He watched and listened as she explained how to do it properly, licking across the back of her hand before tapping salt over the moistened spot, and the careful placement of the shot glass and the lemon. Her blonde hair was a curtain as she tossed her head back, but Adam’s gaze was mostly fixed on her exposed collarbone as he felt a distinct desire to kiss her. As she placed her shot glass back down, he couldn’t help but agree with her words, his head giving the slightest of nods. “Is that an invitation?” He asked. So far, there was a safe distance between them –but things changed on the dance floor, where bodies brushed with debauchery and nothing was at all PG rated. “Because I do.”

In one quick movement he picked up the salt shaker in one hand, while licking the soft spot between thumb and index finger before shaking a bit of salt upon it. He then placed his own shot glass and lemon slice exactly how she’d showed him, and followed the steps. His adam’s apple bobbed as he downed the tequila, a dry heave rushing past his lips as he placed the slice between them and sucked. When his grey eyes turned towards her once again, they were slightly brighter and there was a bit of burning in the pit of his stomach. “You said something about dancing?”

"And you'd say this magnificent tequila is not reward enough?" she asked almost insulted, taking a hand to point scandalized at her chest. Intriguing as he was, Aria couldn't help not playing games. For any Desrosiers, the fun was in the teasing and the chase. "Why, monsieur, that is such a terrible shame" she said smiling thinly, letting him make whatever he wanted of that little statement. His... wise words about patience were rather cliché and only proved further that attempting conversation in clubs was a rather poor decision for Arianne. And yet she kept insisting.

"Why, yes. Yes it is" she mused, leaned back in her chair as she gave him a thorough look, watching him intrigued. He had a nice body, but one could never be sure until you got to see it unobstructed by anything else. As she raised her eyes from his torso to his face, Aria arched an eyebrow and gave a small appreciative nod. He definitely had a pretty face. But it was all a complete waste of time if he didn't have the... skills, so she gave a small chuckle at his admittance and shrugged slightly. "We'll see about that, won't we?" she said surreptitiously. She didn't have nearly enough fingers on her hands to count the men that proclaimed to be able to dance only to be presented with a complete disappointment by the first few beats of the song.

She watched him prepare his shot with detached amusement, only stopping to open her mouth a little as the tip of his tongue darted out. Once his eyes turned to her again, however, she was all polite smiles. "Shall we then?" she asked, leaning forward to put her elbows on her knees and pressed her chin into her palms, tilting her head sideways and squinting her eyes as she gave him another thorough analytical look. He'd have to do, she supposed. She slithered off her chair, turning to lean over the bar to instruct the cute bartender that served her before to keep an eye on her belongings. She didn't have to lean so close into him, or whisper into his ear, or smile languorously as she did so, but why ever not?

She turned to face the dance floor and started walking in front of Adam, swaying her hips with a bit more care then usual. Halfway through the open space she spun on her heels, walking backwards and throwing her head back a little as she gave him a coy knowing smirk and raised one finger to beckon him closer to her. Once he was at arm's length, she raised her hands and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him flash against her. This was better. This didn't involve much conversation. Arianne slowly uncurled her fingers from his shirt, and drew them up and backwards, over his shoulders to let her arms hanging extended at the back of his neck. She gently pushed one leg between his, having the other on the outside of one of his legs and wiped all traces of social smiles off her face.

She tilted her head back, watching the colorful lights play out across his features through her eyelashes and opened her mouth just a little bit, as she rolled her hips against his thigh.

Patience was a weary emotion that Adam Turner had never been quite fond of, but as the woman slithered off her stool and pressed her body against the top of the bar, the Cursebreaker’s silver eyes fell on two distinct spots: first, the breast that somehow became enlarged when pressed against wood, and second the arse that this creature had and which was basically drool worthy. Adam swallowed back saliva –or perhaps drool, he couldn’t be certain-, as he stepped off his own stool and began to follow her. There was something rather sinful to the way she swayed her hips, and he was quite certain it was illegal, but he wasn’t one to complain at such an alluring sight. As a matter of fact, quite far from speaking a single word against all of this, Adam was busy imagining what he’d do to her if only he could get her alone.

It was rather strange, and rather beyond his knowledge, how he suddenly felt fingers around the collar of his shirt and his chest suddenly press against hers. It had been a moment of lapse, but he was quick to recover as her arms curled around his neck and one leg pressed in between his thighs. Panting just slightly at the friction of her hips against his own, Adam debated between gripping her midsection –or running his hands all over her body, which was the option he went with. As the woman’s head rolled back, Adam ran his knuckles down her spine, his other hand pressing at the spot where her hips curved and gripping with an alluring strength.

Her exposed collarbone was yet again a spot of great attention, his eyes falling on it –and quickly followed by his lips. He didn’t dare to bite or suck, but instead let his head fall over her shoulder and his breath whisper over the sensitive skin behind her ear and down her jaw, as his hand made a very quick –almost unnoticeable- trace over her bum. The music blared, his skin dampened and his pulse raised –but the beat was addictive, and his hips continued to curve against hers at the tempo of the current song. His eyes closed and his own head fell back to expose his neck and collarbone, the flashing lights in the club forming patterns on the inside of his eyelids as one hand curved around her waist and pulled her even closer to him.

She smiled softly, eyes slowly growing heavier and hazier as she felt one of his hands press into her waist and the other sending tiny shivers all along her spine, to settle deep into her bones. Inadvertently, she leaned back into his touch, but frowned at losing the close press of their bodies in front. However, no sooner, Arianne could feel the ghost of his breath on her throat and for the love of all, all she wanted was to feel the graze of his teeth following, but instead all he did was move closer to her ear, behind it and her jaw and it was really rather maddening. His hand passed subtly and too swiftly over her bottom, as Arianne's jaw dropped open softly and her gaze turned eager.

She didn't know if he was teasing or feeling some sort of reluctance, but Aria was kind of done with the games. His grip on her tightened, drawing them even closer and she turned her eyes to his face, watched the column of his neck as his head fell back with eyes closed. One hand moved to tangle her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, nails firmly pressing into his scalp, pulling his head even further back. Her other hand came down to trace his sides and settle at his back, sliding slowly under his shirt, fingers playfully teasing the warm patch of his skin above his belt.

With a teasing little smirk, Aria leaned closer, pressing her lips to his pulse point. She dragged her lips upwards, with only the hint of teeth and stopped to ghost a breath over his ear. "Arianne" she whispered in a low voice she would've wished was a bit more steady. "Just so you know what to call out later" she chuckled for a second, then pressed her teeth into the expanse of his throat, only this side of painful, and licked gently before releasing him.

There was blood lust, and then there was simple lust, and the prior was actually rather more common in Adam Turner than the latter. But tonight was one of the exceptions, as he crushed his hips against the girl’s, as his hands held tight and luminescent lights continued to print strange drawings on the insides of his eyelids. It wasn’t that Adam didn’t like a roll in the proverbial hay every now and again –but murdering was a whole other type of rush that he was even more addicted to. But not tonight, and especially not when he felt her fingers wrapping through the hair at the back of his skull, her nails dragging against his scalp, the warm palm that traced came to rest beneath his shirt and against the skin of his back. The Cursebreaker let a raw growl press past his lips.

When her lips pressed against his neck, teeth then barely scraping against his skin as she made her way towards his ear, Adam couldn’t help but feel his chest hitch slightly closer to hers, his heart beat going from steady to as hard and fast as the stomps of a galloping centaur. Her whispered name, the teeth clenching his flesh and Adam felt himself on the brink of breaking. Control was lacking, but he would take it back: with a growl, the assassin twisted his head right as she let go of his throat and captured her lips. The kiss was everything that spoke of debauchery, nothing romantic whatsoever but simply clashing lips, teeth and tongue and hands that decided to roam with rather more courage than they had before.

“Adam,” He whispered as he pulled out of the snog, his teeth dragging at her bottom lip until he felt it swell slightly and he let it go. His eyelids were heavy as he looked at her, but the smile on his face was playful and full of life. “So you remember who to call next time you’re lonely.”

With a harsh intake of breath, Arianne dropped her head back, recovering from the heated kiss and chuckled softly at Adam's words. Leaving her hand fall from his head, her fingers teased at his neck, over his collarbone, raked over his shirt, feeling the muscles under the fabric with a little smirk. When her hand reached the edge of his shirt, she teased her way under it, firmly hooking her fingers in his belt. Her other joined soon, splayed on his abdomen, nails slowly dragging over the ridges of his abdomen.

Pulling him in flush against her, she ever so lightly let one hand drift further down between his legs, only for just a second, and chuckled softly. "Cocky much Adam, dear?" she said teasingly with an arched eyebrow as she bit her own lip teasingly. Just as slowly she moved her hands back around his neck, giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

"I feel we're putting on a show for free" she suddenly said more seriously, voice low and broken, looking around them cursorily. "We wouldn't want that, would we?" she said darkly and pushed herself away from him and into the crowd, stopping only once to look behind and make a gesture as if to say come and get me.