This time.
This time for sure he isn't going to let it happen.
He trained for this, worked at home until he could silence the urge inside him and it all comes down to this last moment.
"You really won't purr for me?" Marinette pouts above him, looking down where his head lay in her lap. He shakes his head stubbornly, crossing his arms and turning away. "I didn't mean to make fun of you!" she insists. But Chat doesnt listen, and just shakes again.
Last time he had purred, she had mocked him. Ruthlessly. This time he wouldn't make the same mistake, he won't lose, no matter the cost.
"Well, I guess I can't make you." she says, but her fingers are already carding through his hair headed with single minded determination towards his ears. He turns over in her lap, face down, to hide his blush.
He won't do it.
She starts by gently pinching them, then circling her fingers along the velvety inside and the smooth outsides. He feels something build in his throat, but crushes it by digging the heel of his boot into his calf.
Her fingernails trace the outer edges of his real ears, before running to the back of his neck where they scratch to their hearts content. He scrunches up his face in concentration, fighting the weaker part of him that wondered why it would be so bad to give in to the sensation. Melt into her lap and purr and meow and- no.
He won't.
She hums, as though this is just a walk in the park for her. Her fingers move up the back of his head towards his ears again, taking their time, scratching and rubbing and -yes- petting every inch they go over. His body should not be able to betray him like this, in the way it arches his back and pushes his head into her hands. Stretches and shudders as he feels his claws push outward and retract back in and his muscles relax.
Its mutiny, he's sure.
He grunts to cover up what he's sure was an oncoming 'meow'. Disgusting.
He will not.
He's squirming in her lap by now and Marinette pulls her trump card., running her fingers back to his ears and scratching between and behind them.
His throat betrays him, he squeaks. He attempts coughing to cover it up, but it's too late, she heard. Her hands fly back to the wretched place that spurred the weak sound and they rub relentlessly.
He… can't…
She drags the back of her nails from his hairline down the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades to the spot right above his tail and his eyes nearly roll back into his head from the onslaught of pleasure.
Screw it.
The purr starts up, relentless as an old radiator, and hums through his whole body from the tips of his ears to the pads of his feet. It vibrates into her lap and she hears it. He feels her fingers sink a little more heavily into him.
"There'smy kitty." Marinette coos, but she doesn't stop, just keeps petting him gentle and firm in all the right places.
He pouts, but can't bring himself to tighten up despite how much he hates losing.
There's always next time