37. Chapter 37

Contrary to popular belief and despite Marinette’s ardent desire for the situation to be otherwise, Ladybug’s miraculous did not magically grant its wielder unwavering bravery.

Badass yo-yo? Sure!

Sick costume with the matching mask? Absolutely!

The self-confidence of a literal god?

…No dice.

“So, I don’t want to pressure you or anything… but if you don’t at least look at it soon, I’m going to get really self-conscious here.”

Eyes glued to the suddenly enthralling wall just inches from Adrien’s head, Marinette let the air she’d been storing in her lungs flee as a nervous exhale. Not quite a giggle -since that would be wildly inappropriate given the circumstances- but not quite not a giggle either.

More like plea, really. A prayer to all the dick gods in dick heaven to bestow upon her some much needed courage and expertise for the situation at hand.

(The situation that should really be in hand at this point.)

“If you’re not comfortable…” Adrien began, the earnest (always so earnest) words floating up from somewhere below her.

“N-no no!” Marinette piped, voice stuttering around those pesky little not-giggles. For fuck’s sake what kind of demented individual strips their boyfriend, refuses to look, and then proceeds to laugh??

“Do you need a minute?” Adrien asked, thumbs ghosting gently across her knees. Marinette shook her head, taking a deep breath.

No. No she did not need a minute.

Marinette did not need a minute because she was a powerful, sensual young woman. She was Ladybug, luck incarnate! She was an informed, decisive individual, capable of being mature about the situation and-

And she was pretty sure looking at him was as good a first step as any.

So she glanced down.

…

Yep. That was definitely a penis.

That was a very real, very attached to Adrien Agreste, penis.

Now, Marinette was by no means an expert in the field of biology, but the French education system had not failed her. She was secure enough in her knowledge of human reproductive system to at least confirm her boyfriend possessed all the proper… parts… and they seemed to be in excellent working order no less!

(Not that their last few months of “patrols” had left any doubt in her mind over the existence of his parts and their ability to work.)

Starting at the wisps of fair (the gossip magazines could put their speculation to rest- Adrien Agreste was indeed a natural blonde) hair curling around the base, Marinette allowed herself a moment to simply admire. From the thick vein that stood in sharp relief along the underside of his length to the curious folds adorning the tip, she marveled at the anatomy laid before her, suddenly feeling very foolish to have lost her head over something so…

“Small” wasn’t the right word.

‘Oh, no,’ Marinette thought rather lewdly, biting the tip of her costumed nail. ‘Small is definitely not the right word.’

…Something so natural, let’s say.

All said, Adrien’s dick didn’t look all that different from anything she’d stumbled upon during her occasional three am incognito browsing session. No surprises. No bells and whistles. Nothing to send her screaming towards the hills.

For once her stunning supermodel was thoroughly, mercifully, average.

(Though the dedicated girlfriend in her swore his package was incrementally more handsome than others. A real stud among its phallic brethren.)

“Umm… Ladybug?”

Marinette snapped from her dick-induced musings, wincing at the realization she’d been crudely ogling Adrien’s… civilian baton… for the better part of a minute. No commentary, no attempt to touch him, just an eerie brand of silent judgement that would probably make anyone uncomfortable.

Chewing her lips, she offered him a sheepish smile, and had just began contemplating whether a quick, “Hey, nice dick!” would be appropriate for the situation when-

“I-it moved!”

Well, in her defense, Marinette didn’t know that erections had a tendency to twitch.

What Marinette also didn’t know was whether it would be quicker to escape via the window by the couch or the one in his bathroom. The restroom was closer, but there was still the matter of that pesky door between her and sweet freedom. Plus, unlike the wall of windows in his bedroom, she had no clue how to work the bathroom latches, and couldn’t risk the chance of having to break the glass.

‘Nope, it’s gotta be through the big windows,’ she decided, preparing herself for the arduous, mortifying, journey back to her bedroom and subsequent weeks she’d have to spend buried beneath her blankets.

Or in Venezuela.

Or perhaps on the moon.

Adrien cleared his throat, momentarily halting her escape plans. “It’s… happy to see you?”

…

Marinette locked up in place, nearly teetering off the bed as she did so, and one brief glance at Adrien’s face was all it took to get those nervous (though less so now) giggles going again.

“What?” he questioned at her snort, breaking out into quivering snickers right alongside her. With eyes dancing, he didn’t seem the least bit upset over her rude observation. If anything, his expression could almost constitute a smile. A fluttery sort of smile, with just enough buried humor to remind Marinette that this was Chat Noir she was dealing with, the one person she knew how to handle better than anyone else on this planet.

The one she loved.

“Y-you…” Marinette shook her head, unable to continue through the laughter pouring out from her throat. Instead she rocked forward, hovering above his lips to whisper, “I just love you, is all.”

Adrien returned the endearment in an instant, even managing to work in a “so much” before her mouth sealed itself over his, and they shared a sweet kiss. Full of hushed adorations and tiny, love-struck sighs- she might have even gone so far as to call it innocent.

You know, if not for the fact one them was naked with a hard on.

Easing down from that quintessential ‘seeing your significant other’s genitals for the first time’ freak out, Marinette broke the kiss, retreating just far enough to meet his eyes. “Sorry for staring,” she said, fingers tracing across his chest, “That wasn’t very polite.”

Adrien gave a non- committal shrug, shaking his head so that their noses rubbed against one another. “I’m pretending it was because of how impressed you were and it’s doing wonders for my ego.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but pecked him on the lips none-the-less. “If it makes you feel any better, your dick is the most impressive one I’ve come across.”

“Hell yeah.”

“And also the first.”

“I’m still counting it as a win.”

“Alright, enough,” she admonished, wagging a stern finger as she settled back atop his thighs. “No more funny business. I’m seducing you, so behave.”

Though he was still adorably pink in the cheeks (among other places that she now had no trouble examining), Adrien managed to work up a perfectly affronted gasp. “I am behaving!” he protested, pressing one hand to the center of his chest.

“Well then tell your dick to behave.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried. It doesn’t respect me as its superior.”

As if to add credence to the words, his erection twitched again, and the teens exchanged quick, indecipherable smiles.

Marinette hummed, fingers meandering down his stomach until they broached the patch of pale pubic hair nestled beneath his bellybutton. Adrien gulped.

“Yeah?” she asked, feeling the oddest sense of satisfaction from the way her usually unshakable partner’s muscles seemed to tremble beneath her ministrations.

(It was nice she decided- to feel so desperately, physically wanted. Wanted as a young woman. Wanted as a lover. It was something she’d yet to truly experience as a post-pubescent individual, and the magnitude of the sensation sparked a lovely clench deep in the pit of her stomach.)

“Well I think your not-so-little friend here is perfectly capable of behaving…”

Adrien just barely had time to conjure a smirk before it shattered off his face, replaced by an expression of pure need as her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock.

“…you just need to use a firm hand.”

Marinette flashed a lip-gnawing grin, ignoring the cheer of 'I DID IT I DID IT IM TOTALLY TOUCHING HIM' that echoed throughout her head to focus on the way he felt in her hand.

Hard (harder than expected) and so warm she could feel the temperature of him even whilst suited up- rubbing against Adrien’s erection through the layers of his clothing had done nothing to prepare her for how fascinatingly thick it would be sans covering. Thicker than her finger, certainly. Thicker than three or four.

Running through a few quick mental calculations, Marinette couldn’t help but wonder: How in the world was it supposed to fit in her…?

But anyways. They didn’t have to concern themselves with that right now.

 “Full disclosure,” Adrien began, the wild dilation of his pupils belying his otherwise casual tone of voice, “I’m probably not going to last long if you keep it up with the puns.”

“Seriously, Chat?” Keeping her eye glued to his face for any indication of discomfort, Marinette tightened her grip a smidge. “If either of us is ‘keeping it up’ right now…”

Adrien huffed a laugh that was 50% air 50% pure sexual frustration and 100% her kink, rolling his eyes with a murmured “Nice”, and Marinette didn’t know what horrified her more. The fact her boyfriend genuinely seemed to enjoy punning as a form of dirty talk…

...or the fact she was was indulging him.

‘Love,’ she mused, putting her attention back towards the now in-hand situation, ‘What the hell is it doing to me?’

Testing the waters, Marinette dragged her loose fist up the length of Adrien’s shaft, and his soft gasp in response was all the encouragement she needed to do it again. She grinned, wiggled her hips, and repeated the motion, earning another, lower inhale for her trouble. Emboldened, her timid touch turned purposeful, firmer, until she'd worked up to steady kneading pace.

As a teenage internet consumer, suffice it to say Marinette wasn’t exactly clueless on the concept of handjobs. She’d braved enough rogue tumblr links and “Alya Oversharing Times” to have a pretty good idea of what she was supposed to be doing here. Grip tight, but not too tight. Stroke fast, but not too fast. Tease the head, fondle the balls- stimulating a penis wasn’t exactly rocket science.

And yet…

"Ah!"

Adrien next gasp, sucked through his teeth as she swirled her palm against the tip of his cock (that was something people with penises liked right?), sounded a tad too sharp to the result of pleasure.

 Marinette froze. “Too hard?” she asked with a grimace, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her.

(‘You’ve done it now!’ her anxiety bellowed, banging the pots and pans she really should have confiscated years ago together, ‘You broke your boyfriend’s dick and now he  h a t e s   y o u .’)

 Adrien, who did not at all look like the victim of a broken dick, shook his head. “Not too hard. It’s just…” He gestured to her gloved hand. “The suit’s a little abrasive,” he admitted, sounding almost apologetic. As if the material of her costume was designed specifically by him to be a damper on this night.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, both relieved and not. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Examining her hand, she could see how the textured material of her costume might cause some problems. But how to how to fix it?

Should she call a lucky charm?

(The idea of doing a five minute handjob speedrun sounded thoroughly unenjoyable.)

De-transform and find him a blindfold?

(Nah, too trope-y.)

Maybe… maybe she could use something other than her hand…

(Oh… now that could work.)

Marinette swallowed at the thought, running a few more of those mental calculations as she eyeballed his flushed member. Her tongue unconsciously crept out to wet her lips. “Do you…?”

Adrien interrupted her proposal with a quick “wait”, finger popping up to signal for her patience. He twisted, groping in the crevice between the bed and the wall, and after a moment of fishing extracted what looked to be a well-used (probably expensive) bottle of lotion.

He passed it down without comment, refusing to meet her eye.

“That’s an… odd place to store beauty products,” Marinette quipped, blinking fast when she realized why he’d need to keep something like within reach. ‘Naughty cat.’

 “Nourished skin is very important in my line of work,” Adrien grumbled, cheeks pink and mouth puckered into a pout. She snickered slightly but said nothing, depositing a generous amount of lotion to her palm and rubbing her hands together in an effort to heat it up. 

“Tell me if this is better,” she said, wrapping one newly lubricated hand around his shaft. She looked up, keeping a close eye out for any sign of discomfort, and resumed her earlier soft strokes. "We can stop if you want."

Adrien was quick with a smile and a "Dont stop, you're doing great!" , but something in his expression still gave her pause. He didn’t look uncomfortable per se- nothing like when she’d nearly sanded half his foreskin off with her cheese grater of a costume -but he didn’t exactly look to be in utter ecstasy either. There was trepidation there, an inner debate waged behind half-lidded eyes, and Marinette perked a brow in silent question. 

After a further moment of internal deliberation, Adrien reached down, wrapping cautious fingers around her own.

"This okay?" he asked, ducking his head as if waiting for her to slap him away and storm out of his room for daring to insinuate her technique was anything but flawless.

Relieved, Marinetted nodded. "This is perfect."

(Listen, as a girl with exactly zero penile experience, she’d gladly take all the help she could get thank-you-very-much.)

Her eyes dipped, taking note of how Adrien guided her hand. The first thing she gathered was that she was allowed- nay, encouraged-to grip quite a bit harder than she had before, as well as pump faster. The second was that Adrien preferred it when she focused the majority of her attention on the top half of his shaft, though he wouldn’t object should she decide to take a detour to the sac nestled beneath.

Marinette’s third discovery was something she learned after Adrien left her to her own devices, his breath hitching and his fingers abandoning her own to twist into his coverlet.

Turns out, she loved giving handjobs.

It was fascinating, really. The sight of her (well, Ladybug’s) hand wrapped snug around Adrien’s flushed cock. The movement of his foreskin as it slid with each stoke. The tensing and un-tensing of his thigh muscles and the slight heaving of his abdominals. Alya had once (drunkenly) told her that a hard-on felt like silk over steel, and Marinette wished, not for the first time, that her cockblock of a suit wasn’t in the way so she could see if that held true for Adrien.

…Though the fact he’d seemed to have rationed an entire bottle of lotion for purely crotch-related activities should have answered that question.

Marinette shook the thought off. She’d have plenty of time to fantasize about the exact softness of Adrien’s non-miraculous staff later.

You know, sometime when she didn’t already have him literally in the palm of her hand, flushed and writhing beneath her.

“You look good like this,” she mused, interrupting the soundtrack of rainfall, shallow breath, and... well... other, lewder noises that filled the room.

Adrien’s eyes (which had previously fluttered shut) drifted back open, lolling about as if not sure where to land. “You too,” he said thinly. Hungrily.  He peeled his gaze away from where it’d glued itself to her pumping hand, wide pupils scanning up her kneeling form with enough raw appreciation to make anyone feel divine.

Noticing he paid special attention to her chest, Marinette decided to be a bit cheeky. She grinned, brought her elbows together, and bounced just hard enough to make her tightly-bound breasts jiggle, not at all prepared for the visceral reaction that would have on the boy below.

Adrien gasped a broken moan, back bowing and nails biting as his cock twitched in her grasp.

Oh.

Now that was one beast she’d like to poke again.

“You like that?” Marinette asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious in his expression. In the way he quivered.

Adrien- sweet, alarmingly red Adrien -nodded. “C-can-“

He cleared his throat from where it cracked.

“Can you do it again?” he requested, voice much lower than it had been before.

"For you?" Marinette bit her lip, intentionally this time. "Of course."

She withdrew her left hand from where it had been stoking along the V of his groin, wrapping it directly underneath where her right squeezed the head of his cock. Her hips wiggled forward greedily, until her wrists found her pelvis and her thumbs brush the crotch of her costume, and with the next powerful stroke her hands dragged up his length Marinette drew her whole body with it.

Up.

Adrien watched her rise like she was towering wave; Aphrodite emerging from the sea.

Down.

Marinette descended on him like she was reclaiming her throne; Persephone reuniting with her love.

At first her actions were slow, rolling. But with time came ease and with ease came mastery, until Marinette was bouncing at a pace that made her thighs burn in the best of ways. She rode Adrien, just liked she’d promised him those two weeks ago as they laid panting into their phone, and while this wasn’t exactly the sexual act she’d had in mind at the time, the imagery and position alone was enough to get her shaking.

(She was wet. Drenched actually. She could feel her need spilling along her inseam and smearing across her knuckles every time they grazed the aching nub of her clit.)

(She would not cum in costume. She would not cum in costume. She would not cum in-)

“Adrien,” Marinette admonished when his eyes began to slide shut again, momentarily stilling her hips.

Adrien’s eyelids snapped open. “M-my Lady?” he prompted, rocking needily against her palms, his expression begging her to please please keep going.

“Watch me,” she ordered, loving the way the command made his Adam’s apple bob. Made his fingers dig into her knees. “Watch me make you cum.”

The next words out of Adrien’s mouth could have very well been anything, but whatever he said felt damn good pressed her mouth.

Adrien bolted up into a sitting position, hauling her closer by the hips until they were one undistinguishable writhing mess.  The change in position (as nice as it was) meant Marinette could only fit one hand between them, so the other curled into the hair at his nape, anchoring her bucking body to his as she drove him closer to the edge. True to word, his dark eyes never strayed from her own, even as her thumb swept teasingly across his tip.

 “Good boy,” she praised, their gazes locked in a heated cinch that turned her insides to liquid fire. “Look at me…”

He babbled to her endlessly, sweet everythings that punctuated each roll of her hips, and despite her inexperience, Marinette could tell he was getting close. She could see it in the way his abdomen shuddered; The way his lips worked in wordless ecstasy; The now steady stream of pre-cum that bubbled up from his slit to mingle with the traces of lotion. Adrien- her Adrien -was teetering on the edge of bliss, holding on as if waiting for some cue from her, and Marinette wanted nothing more than to deliver him to that pleasure.

(A fraction of what he deserved.)

“So good,” she repeated in an endless mantra, not overtly aware of what she was saying anymore but loving the way it made him cry out none-the-less. “Always so good for me…”

“F-for you,” Adrien agreed, all but panting as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Ah!-Anything for you. I-I love… you a-are…”

He licked his lips, searching, but it was obvious by the hitch of his breath that he was too far gone for the usual declarations, and Marinette couldn’t resist kissing him then.

Pulling back after a heated moment, she swiped the thumb of her free hand over his kiss-bitten lip, stroking until they parted with an expectant breath. “Anything?” she echoed softly, tilting his chin so he gazed impossibly deeper into her eyes.  “You’d really do anything to please me?”

Adrien swallowed, head bobbing as if it wanted to but couldn’t quite nod and lips pressing a long, meaningful kiss to the pad of her finger. Marinette smiled.

“Then cum,” she bade, as sweet and loving a command as there ever was. She rose up on her knees one last time, hips rolling and fingers squeezing along the area that seemed to take him apart at the seams. “Be a good Chaton and cum for your Lady~”

…

Adrien’s orgasm was a magnificent thing, as sexy as it was sudden, and Marinette watched, transfixed, as he rode it out.

She watched his cock twitch in her grasp, ejaculating in pale ribbons that rained across his abdomen in short bursts. She watched the muscles in his neck tense, shoulders stiffening and fists clenching into the sheets below as his hips bucked up into her hand. She watched his teeth grit, his chest pant, but above all Marinette watched his face.

Because Adrien Goddamn Agreste- loving boyfriend, devoted partner and cat pun connoisseur- had the audacity to model as he came.

Eyes shrouded with a pleasure that only seemed to highlight their dazzling jewel-toned color, jaw clasped in such a way that put his well-bred bone structure on full display; He was devastatingly, disgustingly handsome in the throes of ecstasy.

And it just.

Wasn’t.

Fair.

‘I HATE YOU,’ Marinette’s mind screamed.

“I love you,” her mouth cooed instead.

And really, that was for the best.

The first coherent word Adrien managed to breathe after a long and stuttering stream of “Ladybug” was “Fuck”, which Marinette decided to take as a compliment regarding her handjob skills.

“Y-you…” Plopping back down on the bed, Adrien draped one elbow across his eyes, mouth twisting into a smile as he focused on forcing oxygen into his lungs. “That…”

Marinette giggled as she watched her thoroughly ravished boyfriend try and fail to craft a full sentence, feeling a flood of giddy endorphins rush through her system at a job well done. “Did I do alright?” she asked, a bit unnecessarily considering the answer to that question was currently Jackson Pollocked across the human canvas spread out beneath her.

“I love you,” was Adrien’s response, wrecked and wonderful and perhaps the slightest bit sleepy. Grinning, Marinette dismounted his thigh.

Well… tried to dismount his thigh.

She wobbled, almost falling over at the sudden pulse between her legs. The material of her suit, usually so breathable she hardly felt like she was wearing anything at all, chafed against her overly-sensitized skin, rubbing against her desperately-trying-to-harden nipples and positively-aching-for-attention clit. Core tight, inner thighs damp, Marinette wasn’t at all surprised to find servicing her boyfriend had brought her to a near comical state of arousal, but she wasn’t about to let her own need derail her plans.

Tonight was for Adrien- his feeling, his pleasure. Tonight was about letting him know how much she loved and cherished and wanted him to be happy.

So Marinette, legs still quivering like a newborn coal, crawled across the bed, ignoring that damp ache as she wiggled her way into his side.  She’d worked hard tonight, dammit! She’d earned a bit of spooning for her efforts!

…It seemed as though Adrien disagreed.

The moment she settled beside him his drooping eyelids fluttered open, previously deadened limbs springing to life to pull her against his chest. His lips found hers in an instant but only lingered for a second, next making their way across her jaw and down her neck.

“Adrien…” she sighed, trying to keep her voice firm despite the way his kisses (not to mention the hand that had already found her breast) were steadily chipping away at her already-flimsy resolve.

“My love~?”

“What are you doing?”

“S’your turn,” he mumbled against her skin, errant fingers creeping down her abdomen to some very reactive places. “Gotta please my Lady.”  

Well, when he said it like that…

All at once the imagined sensation of Adrien fingers slipping between her thigh flooded her thoughts, prompting a needy whimper to catch in her throat. How would it feel, she wondered, to have him tease across her slick (so, so slick) folds through the thin weave of her suit? How would it feel to have him mouth at her breasts, tongue lapping against the sensitive peaks of her nipples. How would it feel to have him whisper to her as she came, her legs clamping around his hand as she shuddered in his arms?

It was an attractive prospect, she wasn’t about to lie, but the not-so-stifled yawn Adrien gave (paired with the fact he was literally spattered in cum), convinced her to be the adult here.

“You’re sweet,” Marinette stated, “And also gross. Let me clean you off?”

“But what about…” Another yawn. Another reason he had no business doing this right now. “…you, my Lady?”

“I got all the pleasure I need from touching you,” Marinette half-lied, smiling sweetly and trying not to look as horny as she felt. “Besides, I think I agree with Plagg on the whole ‘coming while in costume’ debate. Not really what our suits were meant for, you know?”

For a moment, Adrien looked like he was going to contest her, but he seemed to think better of it, nodding as he withdrew his hands to less reactive places. Marinette’s libido rioted at the loss, but she managed to beat it back with the strict reminder Adrien probably hadn’t slept in about 20 hours and was still very much a mess.

(Besides, she’d have plenty of time to take care of herself once she got home, so really her vagina was just being a drama queen as per usual.)

Granting her boyfriend one last kiss, Marinette sat up with the intent of hunting down a washcloth, but she got distracted by the moonlit reflection glinting off Adrien’s abdomen. His release sat drying in small droplets about his form, pearlescent and almost… inviting?

Curiosity got the better of her.

Before Marinette could over-think it, she was dragging her finger along the space beneath his bellybutton, popping the seed-slick digit into her mouth and sucking hard.

‘Oh… well now that’s unique....’ 

Unique was an understatement.

Thankfully, Adrien’s cough of surprise was loud enough to drown out her soft sound of displeasure, so she didn’t feel too bad about gagging. Schooling her features into something that wouldn’t offend, she merely shrugged in response to his lifted brow, gulping to rid her mouth of the lingering pungent flavor.

“I was… not prepared to watch you do that,” Adrien choked, visibly stunned by her display. “Thoughts?”

“Well… it…” Marinette paused, heat rising along her neck as she gave a nervous laugh. The taste wasn’t bad per say, especially considering she hadn’t expected Adrien’s spunk to be some sort of delicacy, but it didn’t exactly make her want to lick him clean either.

She decided to stick to her initial assessment.

“It was unique,” she stated primly.

Adrien saw through the polite exterior at once. He snickered at the subtle distaste still resting at the corner of her expression, and Marinette gave up her attempt at chivalry. Her nose wrinkled slightly, only spurring his laughter further, and it wasn’t long before she’d joined in.

“I’ve got mouthwash in the bathroom,” he said, hand nudging her butt till she slid off the bed. “It’s in the blue carafe.”

“Sorry,” Marinette giggled as she made her way to the door. “Maybe I’ll get used to it?”

“I love you too!” Adrien chirped in reply, shooting her a flurry of obnoxious air kisses that did nothing to extinguish her adoration. She snatched each little treasure from the air, tucking them into invisible pockets as if to keep them for later, and Adrien beamed.

Giddy as she was, Marinette didn’t even notice the soft retching noise coming from the direction of the loft.

By the time Marinette returned from the bathroom (minty fresh and with a damp washcloth in hand) Adrien had already began righting himself- one hand raking through his hair while the other dabbed at his abdomen with a clump of tissues. His sleep pants (presumably along with his boxers) were back in their proper place, though that accursed shirt remained pooled on the floor.

Marinette kicked it up with toes on the way over, snatching it mid-air before slipping it on over her costume.

“Sexy,” Adrien remarked, wiggling his brows as if she’d donned the most expensive of lingerie.

“Thanks, it’s my boyfriend’s.” She motioned for him to lay back down, sweeping the warm washcloth along all the areas he remained sticky.

Adrien positively basked in the attention. His eyes fluttered shut in contentment, the very picture of a spoiled kitten, and once she was certain he was thoroughly clean, she stopped, only to hear him whine at the loss of heat.

Marinette reminded Adrien he had a perfectly functional shower.

Adrien reminded her that she was more than welcome to join.

And after a minute of squabbling over whether or not it was a good idea to shower while transformed, an agreement was reached- one that found both teens cocooned under the warmth of his downy comforter and lost in each other’s arms.

Until…

It was after Adrien’s fifth yawn that Marinette had to finally consider going home.

Tonight had been magical, and Marinette wanted nothing more than to stay curled up beside Adrien until morning broke outside his window. But things were more complicated than simple wants. Because at the end of the day, they weren’t just two people in love, they were two superheroes in love. One of whom was still clinging to the tattered shreds of her secret identity.

Of course when she’d told him that, the boy had only clamped around her like an industrial vice, refusing to let her move.

“I have to go.” Marinette cajoled, fighting against both his miraculously strong hold and her own reluctance to leave. “You’re tired.”

“No I’m not,” Adrien argued, sounding remarkably akin to a child who refused to go down for a nap. “I can stay up all night.”

“Well I can’t, and I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep,” he murmured, nose pressed against her cheek and body sprawled half-against her own. “What’s the problem?”

He knew what the problem was. They both did despite their sincere desire not to.

“I’ll wait till you’re asleep,” Marinette whispered at last. “Just… don’t try and stay up.”

Adrien begrudgingly agreed, his pinkie finding hers beneath the covers, and despite the fact he was obviously attempting to stall her departure with enough whispered words of love to make her flush a florescent peach, it didn’t take more than fifteen minute for him to nod off into silence beside her. Marinette waited until she heard his breath even out into the slow, rhythmic pull of those truly lost to the waking world before she exited his bed, tucking the blanket tight around his sleeping form.

The atmosphere of his room was cold after the intoxicating heat of their embrace, and she shivered. Giving Adrien’s hair a final ruffle, she turned to-

“Is he dead?”

“Eee-!”

Marinette slapped one hand over her mouth, the other forcing her heart back into chest, and she might just have jumped six feet from the moon at the sudden voice if not for the fact she’d been living with a kwami of her own for three years.

“Yup, I live here too,” Plagg remarked, floating down from the loft to hover above where his chosen lay absolutely comatose. He tilted his head, swiping at Adrien’s nose as if checking for a sign of life. No response. “I repeat my initial question… Is he dead?”

“Nah,” Marinette said, struggling to regain a normal pulse. She inhaled deeply, holding it in for a long second before exhaling. “He’s just tired is all.”

“Well I’ve got to hand it to you,” Plagg said slyly, abandoning his annoyances to shoot her a knowing grin, “you really did one heck of a job on him.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just-“

“He’s happy with you, you know.”

She blinked at the sudden, off-topic interjection. “I… I know.”

“He’s going to be happy with you, no matter who you turn out to be.”

“I know,” Marinette repeated, voice hardly above a whisper. She’d never heard Plagg sound so serious, and something about his tone made her stomach roil with shame.

Over by the bed, Adrien stirred, muttering something indistinct and happy before nestling back in, and Marinette resisted the urge to slip through the sheets in order to supply him with the companionship he sought. Plagg looked to be debating the same.

“Am I doing this wrong?” she asked aloud, voicing the very question that had been plaguing her since The Sighting™. Hell, since the beginning of their whole partnership really. “Is it wrong for me to put him through this?”

Adrien deserved warmth. He deserved love. And above all he deserved the truth.

Why is it that she felt like she was depriving him of all three?

Plagg sighed, casting one more watchful (protective) glance over Adrien’s sleeping form before flittering over to hover before Marinette. He regarded her, with eyes too green to even be real and stare so searching she almost felt as if her costume had melted right off. As if he was looking not at her but through her, to whatever lie inside.

Marinette wondered if he ever missed Tikki in the years they spent away from each other.

“Destruction and creation aren’t fit to be kept apart,” Plagg mused, as if he sensed her very thoughts. “It’s good you two are finally learning how to be with each other. I’ve seen too many lifetimes go by where otherwise decent Ladybug and Chat Noirs drift apart. Either because he’s too quick to act…”

Again, Marinette felt completely transparent under the weighty stare he threw her way.

“… or she never acts at all.”

Plagg hovered closer, whisker twitching and intelligent gaze unwavering as it met with her own. He examined her, with a look of worldly experience so much like his counterpart that Marinette had an abrupt vision of Tikki floating beside him- the two watching kingdoms crumble and centuries fly by.  

“I’m going to show him soon,” she whispered, knowing that once the words left her thoughts they became real. That the task ahead of her became real.

“I think that would be good. If not for him than at least for you. Secret keeping is exhausting business.”

“Don’t I know it...” Marinette murmured, pinching the ridge of her nose. At that Plagg laughed, a sound that contained just enough mischief to help cut the tension midnight conversations always brought, and she was quick to join in.

Trailing into tandem breaths, the pair resumed their mutual Adrien-watching duties.

“Do you think he’ll be able to love me?” she asked, “Love Marinette?”

“Well why not?” Plagg countered easily. “You are the same person.”

“Not exactly… without my transformation…”

He waved her objection off with a swipe of his paw. “Bah, Tikki isn’t that great. Anything she does to make you into Ladybug is nothing more than a glamour. Think if it like this: Ladybug couldn’t be sharp as a whip unless Marinette was already exceedingly clever. Ladybug couldn’t be divinely altruistic unless Marinette was already selfless to begin with. And Ladybug certainly wouldn’t be what Adrien describes as “the most stunningly beautiful girl in the world” unless Marinette was also knockout herself.”

Plagg dropped his voice conspiratorially.

“Though I can’t really attest to that last one seeing as though all humans really do look the same to me.” At his sly grin, Marinette gave a huff that might have either been the beginning of a laugh or an outright revelation, Plagg’s words swimming around her mind and sinking into her subconscious.

It was certainly food for thought.

After his earlier fawning over her civilian side, Marinette could at least confirm Adrien enjoyed her company. He’d called her a friend- no, a best friend, and had even rattled off reasons as to why he liked her. Those earlier worries of whether or not Chat would find the normal girl as “miraculous” as the superheroine were beginning to ebb away, leaving in its place a very meager number of excuses as to why she should keep the two identities separate to him.

Just one excuse, to be exact.

An excuse that, the more Marinette thought about it, wouldn’t be all that hard for her to conquer should she go about this tactfully.

A plan, half-hatched but already glorious, took shape in her mind

She and Adrien had agreed as a couple for there to be no more unnecessary drama in their relationship; No more games. But this? Oh, this was game-changer. It was devious but wonderful, subtle in execution but huge in payout, and if all went off without a hitch Adrien would be putty in Marinette's hand by the end of the week.

And yes, she did mean Marinette's.

Inner cogs turning dangerously, she turned to Plagg.

"Do-"

“Don’t even tell me!” he interrupted, face alight with fiendish delight. “Whatever your plan is I’m in!”

“You sure?” 

“Course im sure,” Plagg scoffed, “It’s getting boring around here. The kid hardly does anything besides wake up, go to school, model, fight crime, rub one out, and sleep. The most interesting thing I’ve seen him do this week was try and work a vacuum cleaner, and even that only lasted a few minutes. We need to give him a little excitement in his life. A little flair.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t just your reality tv addiction talking?” Marinette accused, poking a finger against Plagg’s belly and narrowing her eyes. “Adrien’s told me all about your tendency to stir up drama purely because you like to watch it unfold.”

“Me?” Plagg gasped, “An instigator of drama? Absolutely. So we in cahoots?”

Marinette glanced to where Adrien laid blissfully snoozing away. He looked peaceful when he slept, she realized, angelic.

Unsuspecting.

“Yes,” she said, a slow smile blooming across her face, “Yes I think we are.”