If Fleur could have managed a dirty look, she would have given him one, but that wasn't going to happen at the moment. "C'est fantastique." She replied, instead, voice, still rough with pleasure, gone soft. Her hands wandered over his chest, and her expression took a decidedly wicked turn. "Is my turn now." She informed him, hands slipping back down toward his shorts. She tilted her head toward him, and dropped her voice into her most dulcet tones, murmuring endearments mixed with all the things she wanted to do with him, and the way he had just made her feel, in French. They sounded better that way.