A/N: This is basically an extra chapter from my fic Something in the Night. (I've been calling it Chapter 7.5) You don't need to have read SitN to enjoy this fic, since this one is pure smut. However, there are obviously spoilers for SitN, and this chapter will obviously make more sense if you've read it.
If you're just here for the smut, it's worth knowing that Marinette and Adrien are 25 in this story, and they don't know each other's identities. They're in Adrien's apartment and are out of costume, but it's too dark for them to see each other's faces.
And for all you lovely SitN readers, the first bit is the end of Chapter 7, since it's technically the beginning of the whole sex scene. It felt weird to post just the sex and not include the tension that led up to it.
The main room of the apartment was even darker than it had been when they first arrived, now that the moonlight had vanished from the edges of the curtains. Marinette carefully padded her way barefoot across the room to the kitchen.
She eased open the cabinet that Chat had taken his cup from and slowly reached inside. Her fingers pressed against cool glass, and just as slowly she took out a cup for herself.
She winced as the small stream of cold water leapt to life, trickling down into her cup. She filled it only part way, then quickly pushed the faucet down.
The water was cool and refreshing, and she downed the entire glass in three gulps. Feeling slightly better, she carefully placed the glass in the bottom of the sink and wiped her lips.
"What are you doing?"
Marinette yelped, spinning around to find Chat's dark shape standing only three feet behind her.
Fear took over, her mind going blank. She wasn't transformed. And he was standing right in front of her. She was so dead—
Reason suddenly snapped back into place. He was standing in front of her, but she couldn't make out any of the features of his face, just a general sense of his angles and curves.
Her hammering heart slowed somewhat as she realized that he wasn't transformed and thus couldn't make out her own face in the dark, either.
"Water," she croaked out, gesturing behind her to the sink. She half-laughed in delirious relief. "Damn, you scared me. I just—"
She was babbling. Oh god, shut up.
"Sorry," she added quickly, wanting to sink into the floor. So much for a quick, clean break.
There was a pause, and Chat shifted, his clothes rustling. "No," he said finally. "I should have thought to offer you a drink. Do you need anything else?"
Marinette opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He couldn't do this. He couldn't go from accusing and venomous to kind, generous host on the drop of a hat. Her already abused heart couldn't handle it.
"I'm good," she forced herself to say. "So long as you don't give me any more heart attacks."
"I wasn't the one sneaking around someone else's apartment," he pointed out, though the edge that had been in his voice earlier had dulled.
Cautiously optimistic, Marinette gave a soft chuckle. "No, you were just sneaking around your own apartment. Are you actually a goddamn cat or something?"
That elicited a laugh from him, and Marinette felt her heart rate spike. "Sorry," he replied, "just a force of habit."
"To avoid all the cameras?"
She froze, instantly regretting it. Why did she have to go and mention the very thing that had caused him to yell at her in the first place?
But Chat chuckled. "Yeah, actually. I don't know where all of Paris' cameras are, but I scoped out the ones near here, at least, so that I could come and go in privacy."
Marinette felt herself relax ever so slightly. She wasn't quite sure how, but they were having a conversation—a normal conversation. In the dark. At three in the morning. In his kitchen. Out of costume. But she wasn't about to argue over the details.
"It still seems so weird to me," she conceded. "I mean, they had a lot of cameras in New York, but those were mainly street cams or on the subway."
There was a long, drawn out silence, and Marinette felt her stomach slowly clench with dread.
"Oh," Chat said finally, his voice suddenly much cooler. "New York. Is that where you were?"
Shit. Marinette took a deep breath, struggling to figure out how to respond. Finally, she settled on a simple, "Yeah."
"How lovely."
She cringed, wishing should could just snatch the admission back and somehow keep things at the happy, if tenuous, medium they had established.
"That must have been a lot of fun," he added.
"I didn't go for the fun of it," she replied quickly, hoping against hope that he would understand. "It was a ton of work."
"Mm-hmm."
"Chat," she said imploringly, feeling her heart sink. She strained to see him more clearly through the shadows, watching his face. "Please, can't you just hear me out?"
"Oh, right," he replied. "Forgive me for not asking you more about whatever selfish reasons dragged you off to the big apple."
It was as if something snapped in her chest. An eerie, trembling calm settled over her. "What?" she asked, voice low.
"I'm sure it's a delightful story," he continued, folding his arms across his chest. "I've heard the shopping there is phenomenal."
"It wasn't like that," she hissed. "I went there for my education. I spent four years studying my ass off, and another three running myself into the ground."
"Has it never occurred to you that I was doing the same thing, right here in Paris?" There was a rising hint of fire in his tone, but Marinette ignored it.
"Oh, excuse me," she snapped, voice rising. "I didn't realize that choosing to go to my dream school made me such a terrible person!"
"It's not about the dream school!" Chat shouted back, leaning in towards her accusingly. "You left me without a word!"
"And I've already tried to tell you that I didn't mean to!" she yelled, chest feeling ready to split open from the ache of it. "I wanted us to meet before I left! I wanted to keep in contact, even after I moved! But that day, there were things beyond my control!"
"But how long did you know this for!?" he asked incredulously. "When were you even going to bother telling me? The day you were leaving!?"
"Yes, okay?" she spat. "I waited, and it was wrong. But—"
"No!" he yelled, cutting her off. "Time and again, you chose not to trust me."
"Because I didn't want you to feel guilty!" The words were pouring out of her now, an unstoppable flow. "If you had known that there was a ticking expiration date on that summer, you would have beat yourself up over trying to defeat him in time!"
He opened his mouth, but she pushed on ruthlessly. "No—don't try to deny it, you know you would have! I was worried sick about you! What if you took a stupid risk to try to defeat him faster? And what would have happened if we didn't win in time!? There was no way I could have left—I was ready to give it all up and stay in Paris to see the fight through to the end. I didn't want you to have to bear any kind of guilt!"
"And so instead you just didn't tell me at all and left for seven years!?" His voice was an odd mix of overwhelming anger and incredulous surprise, as if he wasn't even sure how to deal with this information.
"How many times do I have to tell you!?" she pushed back, taking a step closer to him for emphasis. "It was an accident! I tried to get to the park, but everything from that day on went wrong."
Chat made a frustrated, desperate noise in the back of his throat. "Quit yanking me around!" he told her, suddenly looming over her. Her pulse stumbled. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I can't do this!"
She opened her mouth, not even sure what she was going to say, but suddenly he had leaned forward and was kissing her. For half a second she was frozen, taken completely off guard as his mouth moved desperately against hers and his hands gripped her arms. And then she broke, letting her lips match his pace, parting them as his tongue suddenly shifted from reaming her out to breaking her down. His hands were everywhere—on her hip, up her back, clutching her side, woven into her hair. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, a small voice was screaming at her, trying to drag her back to reason. Because this was so wrong.
But he felt good. Everything about him was hot. His breath. His touch. The feel of his body pressing up against hers, backing her into the sink.
She was dizzy, every nerve in her body jumping in shock. Damn/em. Why was he such a good kisser? She had kissed plenty of guys, but even with Bryce—
Chat groaned into her mouth, the thrum of his voice echoing down every inch of her body, and all thought was reduced to ashes. Then his hands were on her ass, hoisting her up onto the counter. The motion set her completely off balance, and she barely managed to throw one of her hands back onto the countertop to catch herself as he leaned into her.
He kept pressing closer, sturdy arms wrapping around her back and holding her in place. She found her own arms sliding around his shoulders, one hand inching into his hair, which was ridiculously soft. She slipped her own tongue into his mouth, mind reeling at the way he moved against her in response.
Then suddenly there was only air as his mouth left hers. Her breathing sounded harsh in the dark, overpowered only by the loud, heady noise of his own breaths. His mouth reconnected, this time on her neck, and there were stars flashing through the dark room, his lips and tongue doing things against her skin that made her whimper and forget which way was up. His hips were pressing against her knees, and she shifted, widening her legs and then wrapping them around him, liking the feel of his body pressed entirely up against hers.
He nipped at her collarbone, and she pushed her hips into him in surprise, earning herself another of his low, throaty groans.
His grip tightened around her, then he lifted her up—like she was nothing—and the room swayed dangerously. She buried her fingers in his hair, letting her lips travels against his temple, brush across his ear, taking delicious pleasure in the small shiver she elicited from him.
Her stomach swooped as he lowered her suddenly, and then he was pressing her into the bed. For a brief moment she panicked, realizing where this was heading very quickly.
I shouldn't—
His mouth attacked hers once more, and she violently shoved any protests from her mind. Reason be damned.
Marinette's legs were still wrapped around Chat's hips, and she pulled herself up against him as his mouth moved lower—brushing kisses against her jaw, nipping gently against her neck. His hands had crept under the edge of her dress, and his fingers seared against the skin of her thighs, her stomach, her ribs as they moved ever steadily upwards. She hummed, tightening her grip on his back as his fingers traced down the edge of her bra. As she arched her back, his fingers nimbly slipped under her, making quick work of her bra clasps.
She had only a moment's reprieve from his disorienting mouth before he pushed her bra roughly up and his mouth descended once more, this time on one of her breasts. He coaxed a long, low moan from her lips as he planted open mouthed kisses through the fabric of her dress. The rough feel of the dress melded with the pressure from his lips and the hot, moist feel of his breath, until she was whining under him, her fingers tugging insistently in his hair.
He brought his other hand up her side under her dress, lazily tracing the shape of her breast, the swoop of her stomach, flickering over her nipple. She planted her feet soundly on the mattress and pushed up against him, not feeling enough, feeling too much, her thoughts barely making any sense anymore. Chat inhaled sharply in response, sucking far more roughly on her breast. Satisfied with this reaction, Marinette pressed up again, slower and more insistent this time. His hands followed the curve of her body, down her hips, pulling her up into him. When she lowered back down to the bed this time, his fingers curled around her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs. The feel of the light fabric and his fingers ghosting against her was tantalizing, and she could feel herself growing almost uncomfortably wet at the thought of his fingers slipping elsewhere.
Not to be outdone, her hands had slipped under his shirt, and she yanked it up, wanting to expose as much of him as was humanly possible. His back was warm and solidly reassuring under her, unwavering. She ran her palms down him, then up his sides, trying to coax his shirt off.
With a frustrated growl he pulled back from her and sat up straight, yanking his shirt over his head. It disappeared somewhere into the gloom, and Marinette couldn't help a small smirk at the thought of their clothes strewn about the too-clean room.
His hands had shot down to the hem of her dress, beginning to ease it over her hips, but she wriggled from his grasp, squirming further back onto the bed.
In the dark, it was hard to see much more than the shadowed outline of his body, but that was enough. She pushed herself up onto her knees, sitting in front of him on the bed. Slowly she lifted the dress up her body, shivering at the way is teased along her skin, knowing that he was watching every movement. She slipped it over her head, then very deliberately held it out over the edge and dropped it to the floor.
There was a sudden clank as his hands flew down to his belt, yanking and tugging it off, then he unzipped his pants and hurriedly kicked them off.
…
Adrien's entire body was reduced to a series of pieces. His legs, hastily working their way out of his pants and boxers. His abdomen, tight with desire as he bent towards his nightstand. His hands, yanking open the drawer and fumbling for a condom. His mouth, dry—but so, so desperate to be back against her skin.
This was ludicrous. She had hurt him before, and he damn well knew that she would hurt him again. Probably far sooner than he wanted to acknowledge. But damn it all, he wanted her. And the thought that everything that had been broken for years had possibly stemmed from her concern for him had hit him in his core. He knew she could be lying, that this was a mistake, that every single one of his thoughts now was a hazy mess. But all his mind could supply were the echoes of her lips desperately moving against his, her hips pressing against his, her hands digging into his scalp.
God, how many nights had he dreamt about this exact scene? Maybe that's all it really was. Maybe he was going to wake up in the morning and realize this wasn't real.
He looked over at her, a silhouette on his bed. All he needed now, in this moment, was her. And since she was giving herself up so willingly, he refused to hesitate.
Adrien tore open the condom wrapper, sliding it down over his cock. All he could hear was his heart, pounding obnoxiously in his ears, his breath coming in short gasps, and the heavy sound of Ladybug's shallow breathing. The condom felt slippery in his hand, as if he couldn't think straight long enough to put it on properly. As soon as he had it down far enough, he crawled back onto the bed, angling for her breasts once more.
Without the dress in the way, her boobs were all soft curves and pleasant cushion under his hands. He sucked one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around the tip, and received another of her delicious whines in return. The sound went straight to his cock, and he released her breast with a groan, for a moment too overwhelmed to do more than simply hold her in his arms.
Then, to his utter frustration, she was wiggling out of his grasp again. He growled, ready to pull her back and insist on ravishing her from head to toe as punishment, when suddenly she turned her back towards him, thrust out her hips, and ground herself against him.
His hands instantly found her hips, barely managing to stay steady on his knees as she repeatedly thrust her ass back against his groin.
She wanted him. Wanted him to fuck her. God, she was practically begging for him.
Something snapped inside him. As her ass came back again, he thrust his hips roughly against her own, using his hands to guide her towards his headboard. He felt her shift as she grasped the bars, distributing her weight more evenly. Then, one hand trailing up her spine, he brought the other down to her pussy and pressed two fingers slowly into her.
She whimpered, pressing back hungrily and forcing his fingers deeper. Adrien took a steadying breath, his head spinning at how dripping wet she was. Shit, he probably didn't even need any lube. Somehow, despite everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, that thought felt unbearably filthy, and he bit back another groan.
He pumped his fingers a few times, getting off from the way that she rocked back into him. Then, sure that she was plenty relaxed, he quickly slipped his fingers out and lined himself up behind her.
He slid in with almost no resistance, his cock burying itself halfway into her in one smooth glide.
"Shit," she moaned, pressing herself insistently back into him. His grip on her hips tightened as she slowly pushed him deeper. Her pussy was suffocating and hot, tightening around him with each of her slight movements.
Unable to bear it any longer, Adrien drew his hips back slowly, mind melting as his dick slowly eased out. Then he snapped back into her, heart stumbling as she moaned loudly and met his thrust. As he picked up the pace, there was only one thought that managed to work its way through his muddled mind: he didn't give a damn if this was a dream, so long as he didn't wake up.
…
Marinette's grip was shaking the metal bar of the headboard, the cool metal feeling like ice against her hot skin. The angle that Chat was hitting her at was right there, making her middle feel abused in the best possible way. His fingers tightened around her hips, dragging her back into him, and she rolled her hips, unable to stop herself from panting.
As he continued his rapid pace, Chat's hands steadily began to roam upwards, fingers splayed, exploring every curve and dip of her stomach, chest, breasts. Her breath caught as one of his hands worked its way up to her neck, settling with just enough pressure against her skin. Gasping into a particularly hard thrust, she managed to tear one of her hands away from the headboard and wrap it around the hand on her neck. Eyes fluttering closed, she dragged his hand to her mouth, desperately licking his first two fingers before slowly, too slowly sucking them into between her lips and tongue.
Chat's hips stuttered in their rhythm. Not yet satisfied, Marinette arched her back and pushed backward, keeping their hips connected as she swayed her own hips around. She let his fingers slide almost completely from her mouth, her whole body tingling from the rough feel of his skin sliding against her in too many places. Then, right as the tips of his fingers reached her lips, she nipped at them, dragging her teeth against him.
She could feel Chat shudder from where they were connected, his hips swaying suddenly as if his legs had gone weak. "Fuck," he growled, and suddenly those strong arms were spinning her around and pushing her down into the pillows.
She rose up, impatiently seeking his mouth, and was gratified when he descended on her with renewed vigor. His knee prodded her thighs apart, and then he was buried in her once more, rolling his hips forward in a way that squeezed her breath from her lungs, which he hungrily stole from her lips.
Her hands had found his hair again, tugging, tangling, sliding down his neck to grope his back once more. His hips were rocking against her, somehow sliding in a way that buried him deep inside her, and with a surprised whimper she realized that she was close. Which made no sense. Normally she had a difficult time orgasming—she needed thorough foreplay, and a meticulous, steady rhythm at the right angle.
They had barely done any of that, but she could feel the pressure rising in her stomach, twinging each time he managed to hit her right there. She found her fingers tightening on his back, her hips rocking anxiously against him.
Suddenly she felt one of his hands dip down and slowly begin to rub her clit. The intense burst of pleasure shocked her, and she choked on a moan, hips jutting up into his touch.
His lips moved down to her neck again, and to her intense dismay he slowed his pace to half time, all while steadily keeping that steady, circular, blinding pressure on her clit. His cock dragged slowly out, pulling almost to the tip, then rammed into her, building the pressure right in her middle. Then he pulled out again, savagely slow in pace, his thumb all the while driving her insane with a steady amount of just the right motion.
His lips were burning her neck, his slow ministrations causing her pulse to jump wildly. She realized vaguely that her nails were digging into his back, but she couldn't stop, needed to ground herself to something while the darkness flew to pieces around her.
Slowly, steadily, his hips picked up the pace once more, all while keeping the same rhythm. Slowly, teasingly pulling out, then thrusting back in with a snap of his hips. Then again, just a fraction faster, then faster. His thumb was relentless, his tongue lavishing, and she found herself shaking her head. "I can't—I can't—"
His lips found her pulse point on her neck, and he sucked—hard—with a crashing thrust that sent her entire body over the edge. Wave after wave of debilitating pleasure crashed over her, again and again, while he continued to thrust into her. Her entire world was a mass of dark sparks bursting, her skin tingling with fireworks, body straining as it went rigid with pleasure.
She felt Chat's hips stutter, sway, then press into her, pushing her back into the bed again and again as he came above her.
Slowly the physical overload began to subside, her entire body aching with tremors. Chat leaned down and plastered her with a sloppy, open mouth kiss that she did her best to reciprocate. And then he was pulling out and collapsing to the side, gasping and spent.
After a minute she felt him shift, followed by the elastic, sticky sound of the condom being pulled off. She waited, still attempting to regain her breath, until he rolled back over into her. He placed a gentle kiss on her neck, shooting off another round of fireworks under her skin. Then, with a groan, he let his head fall onto the pillows.
Body exhausted, Marinette felt sleep quickly and suddenly creeping up from the shadows. Her last thought, before she slipped off, was that she had somehow been having the wrong kind of sex her entire adult life, if Chat was any indication.
A/N: OKAY, AS A MOM, AND SOMEONE WHO GOT PREGNANT AS A TEEN, AND A STAUNCH ACTIVIST FOR SEX ED, I HAVE A FEW NECESSARY NOTES. … I mean, I feel like some of you are adults who are well aware of all this, so hopefully this doesn't come across as condescending. But knowing that the ML fandom tends to be on the younger side, my conscience is nagging me to add these. (Also, these notes are for het couples specifically, be regardless of who you're doing, please be safe.)
Please be like Adrien and Marinette: always practice safe sex. Use a condom. And you should really use another form of birth control as well, because no one form is fool proof.
Also, wear a condom to protect yourself from STDs. (Are they called STIs now?) … Anyway, seriously, just do it.
I highly suggest NOT trying to use only rhythm unless you are very well educated on it. Seriously, you can ask my son how well using rhythm with zero knowledge worked out for me. (Actually, that'd be highly inappropriate, so don't ask him. But you can ask me, and I can tell you that I was 17 when I became a mom. Trust me, you want to protect yourself.) Don't just assume that you know how it works. Do some extensive research into it.
Also, if he's too "embarrassed" to buy condoms, then he is FAR too immature to be having sex.
If you ever have questions, please, please, PLEASE ask an adult or someone who you KNOW you can trust and who can give you correct, accurate information. Seriously, folks, I'm going to beat this one over everyone's heads. My anon option is always on. Questions? BRING EM. No question is too embarrassing or stupid when it comes to making sure that you understand sex and can practice it safely! Besides that, there are SO MANY MYTHS surround sex, including many that are perpetuated by fanfics. Thorough sex education is IMPORTANT AS FUCK. (Heh heh…. Heh heh heh.) If your school and parents aren't providing it to you, please do yourself a favor and find legitimate websites to educate yourself.
I personally believe that you should have sex whenever it's right for YOU, whether you're 16 or 60 or anywhere in between. Or never. You do you. Never let anyone pressure you into sex.
"Yes, Mom. We get it, Mom. Just shut up, Mom!" … Okay, I'm sorry, that's it.
This is the most intense smut I have ever written. All of other chapters for this story have been flowing at a scary fast pace, and this one was just a constant drip. Rawr.
I wrote the majority of this while listening to DNCE's "Cake By the Ocean." THIS SONG HAS BEEN MY JAM for, like, the past week.
Also, Maf pointed out that Adrien is a total boob guy and I just… I didn't intend for that to happen, but yes, apparently he is. SPEAKING OF THE LOVELY, INCANDECENT MAF, I owe her so many thanks for reading through this beforehand and giving me feedback ;^; I was so worried it wasn't any good, but her feedback made me feel much better about it~ So a million thanks to you for all of your help! Y'all should check her out on Tumblr.
Thank you for reading! And, of course, if you'd like come hang with me on Tumblr (Konekat)! (It's NSFW)