36. Chapter 36

Love was something of an abstract concept for Adrien.

It was like a rare, mythical creature — far more elusive than the kwami who regularly slept in his pocket, and about twice as farfetched. It was a genre printed on the spines of the library books his eleven-year-old self would read under the sheets at night, or a theme in one of Plagg’s awful reality TV shows.

It was a fantasy.

A trope.

Of course thats not to say he didn’t love! Because boy, did he love. Adrien loved deeply and with his whole self. He loved his father, and his friends, and obviously Ladybug… but in his mind it was a one-sided affection. Something he could project onto others without expecting anything in return.

Truthfully, a part of him had forgotten that love could, in fact, be reciprocated. That it was meant to be reciprocated, even.

But then, lightning stuck.

(Literally, as well as metaphorically.)

Adrien's heart lurched into his throat as a sudden bolt of pale light refracted off his stark bedroom walls, but the accompanying thunder crack was only half to blame for the way his blood pressure instantly shot through the roof.

Because he could have sworn Ladybug had just said—

“Shit!” The heroine clapped one hand over her mouth, eyes bulging as she muttered through her latticed fingers.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, that was not how I planned on saying it! I-I had this whole big confession planned out and it was going to be super romantic but then you went and kissed me yesterday at the hideout so I forgot, and then Tikki bet me more cookies so I thought 'all right! I’ll just tell him tonight!' but then you kissed me again and I got distracted with the pajamas and the cuddling and uuuggghhh!”

She groaned and marched up to jab an accusatory finger in the center of his chest. “I love you, but you’re just too goddamn cute for your own go-oogghff!”

As strong as she was, Adrien often forgot that his indomitable Ladybug was still capable of getting the wind knocked out of her.

 Don’t ask him why he felt tackling her onto the bed was an appropriate response (he wasn’t exactly in the most lucid of head-spaces at the moment) but tackle her he did. Before his brain had even caught up with the situation, Adrien was flinging himself at Ladybug, grabbing her around the middle and launching them onto the mattress.

The soft whumpf of their impact mixed with the sound of distant rainfall, both noises nearly drowned out by Ladybug’s squeal of surprise, and with her hair fanned out around her like two Bastille Day fireworks, she was beautiful. Stunning, even. But Adrien could hardly focus on the sight because—

“You just said you love me!” he exploded, voice threaded with wonder and skepticism but mostly just unadulterated joy.

“Actually,” Ladybug wheezed from beneath him, smiling despite the lack of air in her lungs, “I said it twice.”

‘Twice!’ Adrien’s mind whooped, cracking a metaphorical bottle of champagne over his cerebral cortex. ‘She said it twice!’

“You love me? Like… love-love me?” he insisted.

He had to confirm that he'd understood her correctly. He had to prove this wasn’t one of those warm happy dreams that ended in cold, empty sheets.

“Oh my God…” Ladybug slapped both hands over her face, but Adrien was quick to peel them off, eyes pleading. Upon seeing his desperate expression, she softened, fingers coming up to stroke his clenched jaw.

“Yes, Chaton,” she assured him in an almost-croon, her gaze confirming what her mouth was saying. “I love-love you.”

Tensing, Adrien braced himself for the shrill reality of his alarm clock.

…

It didn’t come.

“You… love me,” he repeated in a dazed whisper, as if to convince himself of the words' truth. “You love me and I love you back.”

The burning in the back of his throat was the first warning Adrien got of the oncoming tears.

“We’re…”

The sniffle he let loose was the second.

“We’re i-in love?”

Then, the most amazing, incredible, miraculous thing happened.

Ladybug nodded. “We’re in love.”

And Adrien disintegrated.

Blinded, knowing only that he needed to be as close to this girl (his girl) as possible, he snagged Ladybug in a crushing embrace, drawing the perfumed air around her into his lungs before letting it out in a choked sob. His hands warred with themselves: Should they stroke her hair? Cup her cheeks? It was an impossible decision, and in the end the only real answer was all of the above. So Adrien, certified Blubbering Mess™, was reduced to patting his girlfriend down like the world’s most emotionally attached TSA agent, and Ladybug (sweet, understanding Ladybug) allowed him to do so all the same.

Returning his fumbling pets with her own much more soothing caresses, she kept alternating which name she pressed into the kisses atop his head. Adrien found he couldn’t care less which one she settled on; both sounded unfairly sweet when paired with her care-laden voice. Both belonged to the boy she’d somehow, impossibly, managed to fall in love with. And most importantly, both belonged to him— just as he belonged to her.

Just as they belonged to each other.

“I l-love you,” Adrien sniffled into Ladybug’s shoulder, because he wasn’t quite sure if he’d told her that today. Even if he had, it was important that he reminded her.

(He’d always remind her.)

“I love you too,” Ladybug replied in an instant, the genuine honesty (the eager relief) in her voice prompting Adrien’s next sob to escape in the form of a hiccup. Nearly a giggle, really. He pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder as she continued, “I can’t believe I waited until now to finally tell you, but I do. I really love you. I’ve loved you for so long and I…”

She trailed off, prompting sliver of Adrien's unbridled joy turned into confusion at her sorrowful undertone.

With extreme reluctance, Adrien extracted himself from beneath her chin, wiping his nose and studying Ladybug as she fidgeted below him.

“I’m sorry I’m so stubborn sometimes,” she whispered, hands toying with the tips of his hair and eyes settling just about anywhere that wasn’t his own. “A-and I’m sorry it took me so long to say what I was feeling.”

Her voice grew quieter still, body drawing back into the mattress as she shied away.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to do a lot of things…”

Oh, that again.

Adrien would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit… frustrated… with his girlfriend’s continued secrecy regarding her identity. He’d said he’d wait till she was ready, and that promise still held true, but no one could blame him for being curious. Because really, who could Ladybug be past her transformation that could possibly deter him?

He’d gone through all the possibilities, ranging from simple “self-confidence issues” to full blown “mass-murderer on the run from the law”, but no explanation seemed to fit. 10-1 Ladybug’s civilian self was just a blue-eyed, dark-haired girl who didn’t wear a spotted suit everywhere she went. So why all the fanfare? Why all the secrecy?

This whole situation was a test of patience to say the least, but he was ready to hold out for her.

Because Ladybug never had and never would let her Chat Noir down.

That much he knew for sure.

“Tell me again?”

Despite the softness of his voice, Ladybug startled at the words, and Adrien swallowed the urge to laugh at her suspicious (adorable) expression. She’d obviously been expecting another one of their infamous “secret identity” conversations, or perhaps another round of him trying to convince her to let the transformation drop, but Adrien found he wasn’t in the mood to touch that topic. Not with a ten-foot pole.

She loved him. He loved her back. That was what mattered right now.

Besides, he trusted Ladybug. Implicitly. Enough to believe she had her reasons to remain anonymous and enough to believe she would reveal herself when the time was right.

Not just right for her, not just right for him, but when it was right for them.

The sudden reminder that there was most definitely a “them” brought a wide grin to Adrien’s face.

“Tell me again,” he repeated, rolling so that she now rested atop him. “How do you feel about me?”

It took Ladybug a moment, her lips thinning in contemplation, but eventually realization dawned. She returned his smile with a shy one of her own, folding her hands atop his chest and plopping her chin down upon them. “I love you.”

“Again,” he asked, stomach fluttering at the words. He knew he’d never grow tired of hearing her say them, not if she repeated it every hour of every day for the next hundred years.

(Which he couldn’t help but hope she would.)

“I love you,” she said, stronger this time.

“Once more,” Adrien urged, joy and laughter bubbling beneath his words, “with feeling!”

Cheeks turning red, Ladybug took a deep breath, held it for a second and pressed her face flat into his collarbone.

“I love you I love you I love you!” she yelled, the majority of her volume muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love you even when you’re being a nerd or making puns or throwing yourself in harm’s way. I love you as Adrien and I love you as Chat and mmmmmmm… Ijustreallyloveyouokay?!”

The room fell silent, save for the sounds of rainfall and the distant ringing of church bells.

(Though Adrien had the feeling that last noise was all in his head, considering that Notre Dame was usually dormant at that time of night.)

“Lovebug,” he crooned, fighting the urge to get all choked up again because damnit he was not crying twice in one night. “Come out.”

Ladybug shook her head.

“No,” she answered through a face full of cotton.

“Please?”

Another firm shake.

“But I really want to kiss you.”

…

Slowly, Ladybug lifted her chin, giving him a spectacular view of her five-alarm blush. Adrien might have told her she looked cute like that…

You know, if he were capable of speech.

He’d spent so many days and nights dreaming of an opportunity like this, a chance to finally express the depth of his devotion to his Lady, but now that the moment had arrived Adrien couldn’t help but feel like anything that came out of his mouth would fall flat in the wake of her declaration. Trapped in Ladybug’s gaze, he was scarcely capable of breathing, much less pulling off a grandiose speech worthy of his feelings towards her.

How could “I love you” ever be enough?

(It wasn’t.)

So he kissed her instead.

Adrien kissed his Lady, and through that kiss attempted to express every last ounce of his affection for her.

Every day spent pining. Every night spent desiring. Every minute spent hoping there would come a time when all that love (or even just a portion of it) would be sent back his way.

And when Ladybug sighed, lips curving into a blissful smile, Adrien knew it had.

Every. Single. Bit.

She returned his kiss with equal enthusiasm — perhaps a bit more if her probing tongue was any indication — and Adrien could hardly think through the cartoonish thunk of his heartbeat. His chest was set to burst with affection, the heat of Ladybug’s endearments (her reciprocation) threatening to incinerate him from the inside out.

That is, if her lips didn’t do the job first.

As was becoming the norm between them, their kiss quickly turned heated. The pair rolled so they lay face to face, legs and hands tangling with sheets and hair, until two bodies became one indecipherable writhing mess. Ladybug’s fingers carded through his hair, stoking and lightly pulling in the way she knew he liked.

(She knew him, better than anyone else. She knew him and she still loved him.)

‘She loves me… she loves me… she loves me…’ The endless mantra made Adrien giddier by the moment, and though he usually kept his eyes closed when they kissed, he found it impossible not to drink in the sight of his lady (his love!) as she so beautifully offered herself to him.

Stray, dark hairs wisping out from the sheath of her bangs. Pale skin dusted with a faint blush and even fainter freckles. The ever present crimson mask that was equal parts a thorn in his side and one of his favorite sights.

Hers was a face he’d know anywhere.

…As was the slender hand that snuck down to grab a handful of his ass.

Despite the emotional weight of their situation, Adrien felt heat flare low in his abdomen at the touch. Like a gas line had been thrown and was waiting for a spark.

It wasn’t the time for those kinds of feelings, he knew — not with her previous eighteen (and yes, he was counting) love declarations still heavy in the air — but all the romantic notions in the world couldn’t negate the fact they were still laying on his bed.

Chest to chest. Hand to cheek. Hip to—

Aaaand there was the spark.

“Already?” Ladybug asked, traces of mischief and disbelief sneaking its way onto her face alongside the trademark flush. Her fingers paused their perusal of his ass — not that it did much to soothe the rapidly forming lump pinned between their lower halves — and with a hushed 'Sorry,' Adrien launched his retreat.

Only to be halted by one well-toned leg as it hitched over his hip.

“I’m not,” Ladybug whispered, in the tone of voice Adrien swore was laced with a kind of verbally administered drug tailored specifically for him.

It snared him, drew him back in for another kiss. It muddled him in the best of ways, until his tongue was licking past her lips to steal a taste of that sweet toxin straight from the source, and his hands latched themselves around her waist. It coaxed and coerced until he was powerless to resist.

(Not that he would have put up a fight anyhow.)

Truthfully, Adrien been an addict since their first kiss, but he had no intention of getting clean any time soon. As far as vices went, this was by far the best he could have possibly gotten hooked on.

Kisses couldn’t kill; not even ones as destructive as hers.

…The hand that slid under his shirt, however...

Well, that was a different sort of predator entirely.

As her lips locked with his, Ladybug’s slim fingers traced exploratory patterns up the expanse of his stomach, and Adrien shuddered as they dipped along the shallow trenches of his lower abdomen. Breathless, he drew back, raising a questioning brow. ‘Someone’s feeling frisky…’

Frisky, as well as a bit guarded, if her expression was anything to go by.

Ladybug chewed her lip, less in the “sexy, come hither” way and more as a display of indecision. Her hesitance was understandable considering they hadn’t crossed this particular line in person yet. Even though their various *ahem* phone correspondences had been more than demonstrative of what each of them was hiding beneath their clothes, the last two months of dating had been characterized by a distinct lack of undressing. Their suits were non-removable, plain and simple, meaning any flirtation beyond make outs had been confined to the realm of words on a screen.

Or pictures. Or phone calls. Or—

...Anyway, there’d been a lot of bark and very little bite.

(Not that he didn’t like bark! Bark was cool and all! But Adrien found himself aching for a good dose of bi— actually, never mind, he wasn’t going to complete that thought.)

“You can take it off,” he offered when Ladybug’s hand didn’t stray from its position beneath his shirt. “I don’t mind.”

If he was being honest, his opinion on being stripped for his girlfriend’s pleasure went far beyond a simple “not minding”, but Adrien wasn’t about to beg.

At least, not unless Ladybug asked him to.

“And what makes you think I want to take it off?” Ladybug sniffed, with a dramatic aloofness belied by her blush. “Maybe I was just admiring the craftsmanship, hmm?”

Adrien snorted. His Lady had a bad habit of resorting to teasing whenever she was truly flustered... and he had a bad habit of finding it undeniably sexy when she did.

“Oh yeah? How’s the craftsmanship, then?”

She waved a vague hand, making a show of examining the hem of his shirt. Or, he realized with a frisson of excitement, perhaps the hint of his stomach she'd revealed.

“Oh, you know… factory standard. Nothing to write home about.”

A beat of silence.

“You want me to take it off, don’t you?”

“Yes please now,” Ladybug blurted, abandoning all attempts at coyness. Adrien laughed as she wiggled eagerly back, reclining against his pillows with eyes gleaming in expectation, and the sight of his girlfriend looking so positively at ease in his bed was simultaneously the most heart-warming and arousing thing.

“Your wish is my command,” Adrien avowed grandly, grinning as he sat back on his haunches. He hooked his thumb into the back of his collar, dragging the material up and away from his neck.  “My lady-love gets everything she wants, so the shirt… is coming…”

Something snagged.

 “…off?”

Marinette wasn’t sure what she found funnier.

The fact her six foot some-odd superhero boyfriend had somehow managed to get himself caught up in a kid’s shirt… or the way he’d immediately began wailing for help at the realization he was stuck.

‘What a dork.’

It took some serious maneuvering on her end, a good deal of commanding him to stay still, and finally a fair amount of “stop squirming you stupid cat, you’re making it worse!”, but she eventually managed to extract him from his cotton-poly prison. Once freed, Adrien flung the shirt off his bed with a hiss, muttering something about Cataclysm under his breath and glaring at the utterly innocent pile of fabric.

And Marinette’s eyes you ask?

They were busy elsewhere.

Tanned skin speckled with the occasional freckle or mole, abdomen taut and toned from years of superhuman physical activity… Marinette of all people knew the effect akuma fighting could have on a growing body (her calf muscles were worshiped like deities back in the ladies’ locker room at school), and it seemed as though Adrien was not exempt from reaping its blessing.

He wasn’t chiseled exactly — because really, what seventeen-year-old boy was? Adrien's strength was more the practical kind, less for show and more for applied use. With broad shoulders, sturdy biceps and a particularly impressive chest (that she had admittedly groped on more than one occasion #whoops), Adrien had truly grown into the mantle of Chat Noir.

His body was (as much as the analogy pained her) almost feline in the way his slender muscles coiled in preparation to pounce. It was powerful. Lean and lithe and…

…and…

Marinette realized once again that she was staring.

A pleased blush feathered its way across her face, one Adrien was quick to catch if his answering smirk was any indication, and he began a slow crawl across the bed towards her. He stalked forward until they were inches apart, then rose (…and rose… and rose… God, why was he so unfairly tall?!) so they were kneeling face to face, leaning forward in a way that further showcased what he was working with. The new proximity had brought him out of the inky shadow cast by his half-pipe and into a patch of pale moonlight, illuminating for the first time the sparse hairs that dotted their way across his torso, and Marinette (despite her knowledge a good portion of males had body hair) found herself thrown off by the sight.

Since when had her kitten grown into a full-fledged cat? She’d never signed off on this!

“Quick question: how tired are you of “cat got your tongue” innuendo? I want to know if I can get away with one without you tossing me off the bed.”

Unable to resist letting her fingers card through the golden wisps, Marinette sighed. “The last thing I want is for you to leave this bed…”

Eyes glinting, his mouth popped open, and Marinette rushed to add, “But I’ll kick you off if I must!”

Adrien let his objection be known via low grumble, brow arching as she brought both hands up to sweep across his chest. “Are you petting me?” he asked, incredulous.

“You’re fluffy.” Curious about the state of his underarms, Marinette gripped his elbows, coaxing them up to confirm yes, he was also quite fluffy there too. Adrien deflated.

“That’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for when I took off my shirt,” he whined, sticking his bottom lip out as she continued to examine him like some rare, endangered species. Curiosity momentarily sated, Marinette dropped his arms back into place, huffing a breathless chuckle at his over-the-top pout.

“I’m sorry,” she cooed, pecking at his lips until they quivered their way into a smile. “What were you expecting me to say?”

“Something along the lines of “wow, my Chat Noir is so sexy and buff!” Then you’d maybe swoon a little bit, just to really sell it.”

Marinette laughed. “Tell you what, you manage to make me swoon, and I’ll say whatever you’d like.”

In hindsight, challenging him was a mistake.

With little warning beyond a sly grin, Adrien snapped his arms up in an exaggerated flex, and Marinette damn near choked on her tongue at the sight. Head cocked, shoulders squared, his display was equal parts absurd and sexy. So it was ridiculous, really, how fast the heat rose to her cheeks.

How many times had Chat Noir struck this exact pose? How many times had Ladybug rolled her eyes right back? There was absolutely no logical reason she should be getting worked up over a silly bit of showmanship.

 And yet…

“Wow,” Marinette sighed, suddenly having trouble recalling what exactly he’d wanted her to say.

Something about cats. Something about sex?

‘Yeah, that sounded about right.’

“You… you’re….”

“Please,” Adrien said, arms still curved up in that statuesque pose, “go on.”

His expression was cocky, and oh so familiar. A reminder that beneath that cover boy surface was the same man who’d been barraging her with lame cat puns for literal years. It was at once an irritation and a comfort — enough to snap her out of her sudden speechlessness, in any case — and Marinette almost smacked her forehead at the notion she’d nearly let a Chat Noir Flex™ (of all the ridiculous things!) get to her.

Ladybug did not get flustered by her own partner. Supermodel or not.

“All right,” she sighed, shaking her head as one might shake out a dusty rug in need of airing. “What was my line again?”

Adrien cleared his throat. “You were supposed to say “wow, my Chat Noir is so sexy and buff!” and then swoon into my arms. But you’re more than welcome to improv.”

Angling his body towards her, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “Also, feel free to touch the merchandise.”

Marinette snorted a laugh, though she was quick to take him up on his proposition, and Adrien visibly redoubled his efforts at flexing as her hands closed around his upper arm. “Wow,” she simpered, squeezing his offered bicep with an over-the-top flutter of her lashes, “my Chat Noir is so sexy and buff~”

Not seeming to catch (or perhaps ignoring) her sarcasm, Adrien preened.

“Probably buff enough to sweep me off my feet…”

If at all possible, his chest puffed out further.

“Why, he might even be strong enough to lift a gallon of milk,” Marinette went on with a snicker. “Maybe two!”

“Hey!” Adrien objected, dropping his arms to grab her around the waist. Marinette’s giggles turned to alarmed shrieks as his hands came dangerously close to tickling territory, her expression equal parts warning and joy. “Careful with the sass there, missy, or I will put my shirt back on.”

“After I worked so hard to get you out of it? Not on your life!”

“I don’t know what all this talk of hard work is about. You know it wouldn’t take much to get me to strip for you.”

“Really?” Marinette inquired, with an unwavering bravado she thought herself in capable of mustering while being held by a half-naked Adrien Agreste. Deciding to push her luck (she was in the right outfit for it anyhow), she let one finger slip beneath his waistband. “In that case, what’ll it cost me to have you ditch these god-awful pants?”

“You better lay off my Lady jammies,” Adrien warned, ghosting his fingers across her ribs.

“All right! All right!” Marinette conceded, twisting away with a giggle. “Just name your price!”

Satisfied she wasn’t about to further slander his (admittedly tacky) choice of attire, Adrien tilted his head, considering.

“True love’s kiss,” he declared at last, hands drawing her close and lips pursing in anticipation.

Sure he must be joking around, Marinette snorted. “That all?”

When Adrien’s eyes softened, mouth melting into a gentle smile, she fell silent.

“It’s worth more to me than you’d think,” he said, with a bittersweet undertone that made her want to wrap him in the covers below and never let him go. Touched by his earnest expression, Marinette let her hands come up to cup Adrien’s cheeks, eyes fluttering shut as she slanted her lips softly against his own.

He would never not leave her breathless, she decided.

 Every time, every kiss, was better than the last. A naturally replenishing source of happiness that would always keep her running back for more.

(The fact she was currently bartering for the removal of his pants was just a perk.)

“I love you… so much…” she announced between pecks, the admission now rolling off of her tongue with ease.

Why had she waited so long to be this happy?

“Love you more,” Adrien trilled back, lips quirking into a blissful smile.

Marinette froze. ‘Oh no… that won’t do…’

She withdrew until only the tips of their noses made contact, fingers grabbing hold of his cheeks in clear warning. “Take it back.”

“Never.” A pinch. “Ow!”

“Take it baaaack.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be removing my pants?” Adrien mused, wincing as she delivered another light pinch.

“No,” Marinette scolded, unyielding. “No stripping until you say we love each other equally.”

“Fine, we love each other equally.” Her fingers eased up. His expression turned sly. “But I’ve loved you long-erk!”

Adrien yelped as she pinched both cheeks at once, applying twice the pressure from before.

(Though really, it was still too soft for him to be carrying on like he was. They were superheroes for goodness' sake!)

“C’mon, it’s true!” he crowed, with a grin that belied his supposed discomfort.

“Is not,” she said with a pout.

“Oh yeah? Then when did you fall in love with me, hmmm?”

“First week I met you,” Marinette replied in an instant, not stopping to consider whether that response might raise more question than she was able to answer. Adrien immediately lit up, and she couldn’t find it in her to worry about her joke of a secret identity in that moment.

“You… since…” He shook his head, expression wondering as his eyes bored into her own. “You’ve been holding out on me, my Lady.”

‘Not as much as you’d assume,’ Marinette thought, recalling years of anonymous gifts, botched conversation attempts, and (she’d deny it if he asked) fold-out poster kissing.

“I was waiting till we both matured,” she lied. “Until I knew we were capable of being both partners and a couple without letting Paris go to ruin.”

“Translation: you waited until I got hot.”

Marinette sputtered, flushing at the semi-accuracy of his translation.

“No!” His eyes narrowed, lips twitching up into a knowing smile. “I didn’t… a-and you… well you’ve always been hot! So there!”

‘Wow, I sure told him,’ Marinette thought sullenly, enduring Adrien’s painfully pleased expression as he conjured a smirk that would put Chat Noir himself to shame.

“Yeah, yeah. You can take your pants off now,” she grumbled, earning a twinkling laugh that banished her frown.

Adrien slid off the bed with a crooked smile, the expression made adorable by the oh-so-subtle flush of his cheeks. His eyes found hers, then dropped to the floor, only to immediately soar back up. Marinette (waiting patiently at the foot of his bed) watched them make their demure circuit about three more times before speaking up.

"Something wrong?"

Adrien pursed his lips, fingers fiddling with the drawstring near his waist. "So I know this is going to sound weird... c-considering I undress in front of strangers every day..."

His eyes had yet to settle, and Marinette was taken by a sudden revelation.

"You're embarrassed," she guessed softly, having experienced that particular emotion often enough to easily identify it in others. Adrien nodded... then shook his head.

"I wouldn't say embarrassed, per se. Let's go with... nervous?"

"Why?" Marinette asked, unable to wrap her head around his sudden reluctance. Adrien shrugged, gesturing loosely to her sitting form.

"You're Ladybug, protector of Paris," he said, as if that was all the explanation needed.

"You're Adrien Agreste, supermodel extraordinaire," she retorted. Said supermodel snorted.

"Adrien Agreste is a dweeb."

"And Ladybug is a bigger one." Marinette pushed off the bed, standing up and placing her hands lightly atop his shoulders. She studied him, head tilting.

Chat Noir, bona fide teen heartthrob and Paris’s cockiest (well, only) cat hero, was just about the last person on earth she would have expected to have body confidence issues. Had he not flexed for her less than five minutes ago? He was perfect, the very catalyst of her sexual awakening, yet there he stood, shifting from foot to foot and gnawing his lip with a look that clearly spelled trepidation.

The puzzlement must have shown on her face, as Adrien was quick to react.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, huffing a hollow laugh and reaching for his waistband. "I’m just… just being oversensitive again. I’ll—”

“No,” Marinette bit out, voice shriller than intended and hands whipping out to halt his own. Adrien blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst, and she sighed. “L-listen, there’s no such thing as being oversensitive. You're just as sensitive as you're supposed to be, and you should never have to apologize for feeling the way you feel. Never to me...”

Her fingers grasped his chin, tilting his head so he was forced to meet her eyes.

“Never to anyone,” Marinette stressed, with a firm nod that left no room for argument. Adrien’s lips perked into a tentative smile "And if you don't want to—"

“Oh I definitely want to," he rushed to assure her, his grin growing wider by the second. The relief on his face was at once welcome and infuriating, making Marinette want to fight each and every person who’d ever made him feel like he didn't have a choice. “Just... momentary shyness, is all.”

"Would it help if I turned around?"

"God no," Adrien laughed, reaching out to stop her from where she'd begun to spin away.

He breathed, in and out, then flashed a disarmingly wild grin so unlike his magazine cover smiles that Marinette swore she saw the shadow of black mask fall across his nose. "Though I might be more at ease if my Lady were to help me remove my pants..."

There was probably an apt metaphor for the situation, something about cats always landing on their feet, but Marinette never was good at analogy.

"So I'm your quick changer now, am I?" she asked coyly, hands slipping off his shoulders, down his chest, and around to his lower back. Adrien shrugged, breath hitching as her fingers eased beneath his waistband to settle atop the curve of his ass.

"H-hey, if it were up to me you'd be Head of Wardrobe, but we've all got to start somewhere in the industry."

Marinette hummed.

"In that case..." She shifted up onto her tiptoes, thumbs grabbing the edge of his pants and lips deliciously close to his ear. "...Allow me to assist you with that, Mr. Agreste..."

She was slow in removing the garment, allowing Adrien ample opportunity to back out. Luckily, his bashfulness seemed fleeting, and he showed no signs of hesitation as he stepped from the crimson fabric pooled around his ankles. Kicking the discarded pajamas away, he murmured a low thanks, and Marinette's heartbeat thumped pleasantly at the sight of him clad only in a pair of designer underwear.

(The white, hip-hugging boxer briefs somehow managed to hide less than his catsuit, and it was quite possible that she had begun to drool.)

“Thank you,” she breathed, if only to let him know how much she appreciated his trust. This time the laugh her gave was far less nervous. Relieved, even.

“My pleasure. Honestly,” Adrien said, drawing her into his arms with an easy hug and a gentle smile.

Having divested himself of most of the layers that normally separated them, he was delightfully warm against the surface of her suit. Like the sun. Marinette could feel the temperature of him seeping even through the magical material, and the delicious heat stirred in her an unimaginable need to get as close to him as possible.

She strung her arms around the back of his neck, rolling onto her tiptoes to press her breasts tighter to his chest, and felt two sets of fingers drum at the back of her legs in reply. “Up?” they asked, tracing the seam between thigh and butt. Marinette responded with a nod, stomach swooping when he hoisted her effortlessly onto his hips.

Three steps was all it took before they’d made it back to the bed, by which time Marinette had coaxed her boyfriend back to her lips. Adrien fell into her hungry kiss, offering no resistance as she lovingly pushed him back into the pillows, and was quick to set his hands atop her hips when she straddled his thighs.

‘Good boy…’

“I love you,” Marinette murmured between kisses, branding the declaration along first his throat then shoulder. Adrien shivered when her tongue dipped into the swell created by his collarbone, then gasped as she roughly sucked at the skin, blunted nails skimming her backside and hauling her closer with an unspoken request for more.

Marinette was only too willing to comply.

Alternating soft kisses with gentle nips, her mouth travelled down the broad plane of his chest. Her tongue, wet and warm, twirled around the sensitive bud of his nipple, causing Adrien’s groan to turn breathy curse, and it wasn’t long before the flesh beneath her probing tongue pebbled with desire. Satisfied with his reaction, Marinette soon shifted her attention to the other side, hot breath puffing against that disk of dusky pink skin before it too was ensconced within the slick haven of her mouth.

“Mmm… Ladybug…” Adrien keened as her tongue laved along his skin, hips jutting up to rut along her clothed sex, and Marinette responded with pleasured noise of her own.

Though they were well outside their usual boundaries, his exciting responses were indication enough that whatever she was doing was correct. His whines, his bitten off moans, his deep masculine rumbles interspersed with higher wanton cries. Most men would be reluctant to make noises like that, instead grunting and growling in an attempt to remain as Manly™ as possible, but Marinette loved the way Adrien sounded amidst his pleasure. Loved how utterly uninhibited he was in his reaction to her touch.

He was a siren bound to land, with twice the beauty and none of the malice, and if the hardness pressed between her thighs wasn’t enough to get her aching, his noises were certainly enough to finish the job.

Marinette’s need burned along her body like a fever, pooling between the legs of her costume and tightening at the peaks of her breasts. It spurred her to feed it into her partner. To give. Take. It drew her mouth up and her hand down, until she was kissing and groping and rocking against him in the very same manner he undulated against her. She was love drunk, and only the sensation of the ribbed elastic of his waistband against her fingertips was enough to draw her into some semblance of lucidity.

Hand tented above his… well… tent, Marinette whispered a low “okay?”

Tow which Adrien responded with a resounding “please.”

And really, that was all the encouragement her hormones needed.

Marinette acquiesced to desire, palming the bulge she had so intimately become acquitted with over the course of their relationship before giving it a light squeeze, and Adrien’s pleasure-wracked groan in response was nearly as satisfying as the sensation of him filling her grasp. Despite the two layers of cloth that separated her fingers from his cock, she could feel nearly everything. The tantalizing stiffness. The unimaginable warmth. She could make out, in vivid detail, Adrien’s exact shape and thickness, giving form to years of fantasies and whetting her appetite for more.

She loved him. She loved him, she loved him, and she wanted him.

She wanted to see him, feel him — wanted to explore him in every possible way one could explore another person, and in turn have herself laid bare for his discovery. She ached for the hot mass beneath her palm in ways she couldn’t put to words, and was surprised to find she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to ask for it.

“Can I?”

Manhandled (‘ladyhandled?') as he was, Adrien didn’t seem to catch the meaning of her request. Marinette paused her stokes in order to get some blood flow back up to his brain.

He blinked a few times, wetting his lips to utter, “Can you…?”

“Can I have this one?”

There was a split second more of confusion before his pupils dilated in realization.“Y-you don’t have to!” he rushed to insist, though his hips quivered with the effort to not thrust up into her hand. His face was a strange mix of emotions: unbridled lust boiling beneath a controlled veil of consideration. Somehow the look only made Marinette fall impossibly more in love.

“Do you want me to?” she tempted, the flutter of her lashes far from accidental and the brush of her fingers along his pelvis even less so.

“Y-yes, but—“

Adrien gulped, sucking in a breath as she teased a few digits beneath the edge of his boxers.

“But you don’t h-have to,” he stammered, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Marinette frowned.

‘Damn this boy and his chivalrous ass… just let me jerk you off!’

Chat always had been the overly selfless type, and Marinette was discovering Adrien to be no different. So unused to having his own feelings and wants made a priority, he was woefully inexperienced with the concept of give and take.

(Though really, it was mostly the second part he had trouble with.)

His whole life had been spent giving — relenting. Now Adrien had no idea how to simply sit back and receive.

And that needed to change.

“Who am I?” Marinette asked bluntly, capturing her his gaze and refusing to let it go.

His puzzled stare made her realize the complexity of her question, and she gulped down a flash of guilt.

“I mean, w-who am I right now?” she rushed to amend. ‘Nice going, Marinette…’

“You’re Ladybug,” Adrien stated slowly, probably wondering why they were having this conversation with her hand half down his underwear.

“That’s right. And does Ladybug ever do anything she doesn’t want to?”

“…no?”

“Exactly,” Marinette chirped, hoping her smile conveyed her honesty. She wanted this, wanted him, and she needed him to understand that. “And do you think that Ladybug would let anyone, especially her own partner, pressure her into something she wasn’t already eager to do?”

His eyes brightened.

“No way,” Adrien exhaled, his voice half-lusty, half-relieved, and all that she loved. Butterflies — more than she’d ever encountered in all her years of akuma fighting — took flight in her stomach at the sound, and Marinette was unable to resist pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Then stop overthinking things and let me seduce you.” Adrien laughed at the finger she stabbed to the center of his chest, putting his hands up in mock defeat. With shoulders flushed, hair mussed, and eyes glinting with an excitement rivaled only by the bulge between his legs, he was the definition of a teenage dream.

Only better, seeing as though he was her reality.“Now, I’m going to ask you again,” Marinette spoke, in a voice so unlike her own she nearly pulled her own tongue out to confirm it was the same one she’d woken up with. Hooding her eyes, she reared back, hips lifting off his thighs and fingers trailing back down to his waistband. “Can I have this one?”

Her words, smoky and low, hit some delicate spot between coy and seductive; as much a flirt as it was a serious question. Adrien's answering nod was vigorous. Enthusiastic.

Their gazes locked, a mutual, heated understanding of where exactly this evening was headed passing between them as she shifted in preparation. And when Adrien, ever the gentleman, he asked once more time if she was sure…

Marinette answered with a smile, and a tug.