Fifty-Three: Purrsonal Attention
Author's Note: Chat makes sure Marinette enjoys a much-needed break from the demands of both her career and the weight of her responsibilities as Ladybug.
Once more I awoke to bands of sunshine streaming through the windows of the master bedroom facing the beach; this time out, though, the ecstasy of being caught in the warmth of the rays was multiplied geometrically by my costume's ability to soak up every last trace of heat, and I heard my purring ramp up a few notches. My back was to the windows, for I had engulfed my girlfriend, spooning around her as if I were liquid to cover as much of her form as I could. I wasn't entirely sure where the sheet had gone off too, so I pressed myself a bit closer, resting my chin on her bare shoulder and taking a deep lungful of her unique scent.
I hadn't lied – before revealing myself to Marinette, I'd significantly ramped down my time transformed, making liberal use of the mask and outfits she'd created so I could give Plagg some freedom. After the reveal, Chat would be the one to return from work, but Adrien had become omnipresent in the apartment. Save for those evenings when I knew she needed what only Chat could provide, it had been months since I'd spent more than ten hours transformed, let alone slept as a feline.
What I'd not forgotten, though, was how exquisite the experience living as a human feline could be. With all of my senses enhanced, I felt more connected to the universe than my alter-ego could possibly enjoy. And, as with the strange new way Cataclysm was working, I was beginning to note other subtle changes, too. Looking down at my paw, I smiled as I watched my claws retract and then re-appear. I smiled wider when I realized how they had played a starring role in the prior evening's endeavors to get Marinette to relax.
As the memory of her shuddering beneath my touch replayed in my happily groggy state - I had gone above and beyond the call of duty, no question – it occurred to me she might never allow anyone other than Chat into her bed again. I felt bad for my alter-ego... but only a little.
Marinette stirred and then sighed softly before adjusting a bit, sleepily pulling my arm around her a bit closer. "I could wake up like this every morning," she whispered.
"I'll make a note of that, Princess," I breathed into her ear. "Any thoughts on breakfast?"
Impressively, Marinette swiftly flipped around to face me, startling me slightly at her speed. "Yes," she said as she grabbed me by the bell and slowly pulled me toward her lips. "I do."
By the time Marinette stepped into the shower to get ready for what remained of the day, breakfast had become brunch. Loping down the steps to the main level, I paused in the sunken living room to appreciate the view for a moment; the wide, white sandy beach surrounding our personal boardwalk tugged at me, but my rumbling tummy was a priority now, so I reluctantly leapt to the kitchen and started perusing for ingredients.
The kitchen had been restocked in anticipation of our arrival, including a selection of wine I knew Marinette truly enjoyed. I tapped a claw against the bottles and smiled, knowing how upset she would be when she saw the labels and deduced just how much I'd spent on our little getaway. Turning one, I smiled wider, knowing it had required a late-night visit to the wine cellar at the mansion. Dinner with Father had been the price for that beauty, but much like the other bottles, Marinette was more than worth it.
A plan forming, I pulled the bottle from the rack and uncorked it with a claw, reaching for the elegant glass decanter on the shelf. I wasn't a sommelier by any stretch, but knew enough that a fine bottle of red needed to be treated with respect. As I poured the ruby liquid from the bottle, my feline sense of smell easily picked up the multifaceted components of the wine, causing a smile to appear on my masked face. Being Chat always allowed me to enjoy the wine twice.
Setting the decanter aside to allow the wine to breathe, I snagged the fresh ground hamburger from the fridge and set it to brown in one pan; as it started to sizzle, I began to chop an onion into another, drizzled with olive oil, and slowly started to sweat them down a bit. Happily humming to myself, I worked through the rest of my mental recipe for pasta sauce, one based on the house version Phillipe used at his Bistro – and one that a certain feline had been forced to beg for. It wasn't quite the same as the one he used in his lasagna – my version of that was on deck for Saturday, actually – but it ran a close second for Marinette when it came to Italian dishes she truly enjoyed.
The water was just beginning to boil for the noodles and my breadsticks had gotten their second coating of garlic butter when Marinette finally appeared on the steps. My feline ears caught her first step on the tread and I looked up to see my movie-star-gorgeous girlfriend descend as if she were truly the royalty I treated her as. Being a cat, wolf-whistles weren't in my repertoire - but a low sensual growl was.
And how could I not? Dressed for the beach, she was wearing a petite two-piece swimsuit of her own design that exposed more than it hid; a small shift had been tied at her hip, giving the entire affair an even more exotic flair. Her hair was up in a casual bun, strands framing her smile and those gorgeous eyes as they connected with mine. The slight smirk may have been in response to her effect on me, which, honestly, was the point of the exercise in the first place.
I had to clear the lump in my throat twice before I was able to speak. "Milady, you look stunning," I said, trying for sultry and instead hearing my voice crack like I was a teenager with raging hormones.
"Thank you, kitty," she smiled as she settled in on the barstool across from me, then leaned down on her elbows. My eyes were drawn exactly where she wanted them to be drawn, and she laughed slightly as she reached over to push my masked face toward the bubbling pot of noodles.
I growled lowly again, and realized belatedly there were other, more powerful feline impulses that a cat in his prime needed to contend with. For the first time I started to wonder if I was playing with fire. I struggled to turn away from the amazingly, insanely alluring scent of my girlfriend and tried to focus on the meal I was preparing.
I stared at the cooktop for a full ten seconds, trying to remember what I was making.
"Chat?" Marinette asked, concern in her voice. "Are you okay?"
Turning my masked face back to her, I hid my swirling emotions behind a classic Chat smile. "Defelinely now that you're here. Pour yourself some wine, I'm just about ready."
More than ready, I groaned inwardly as my costume suddenly felt uncomfortably tight in certain areas. I silently thanked the architect for the strategic placement of the counter.
"All right," she smiled, oblivious – or not – to my predicament.
"If..." I put my paws on the countertop, shaking my mane to regain some self-control.
"If?" Marinette asked. "If what?"
What the Hell is wrong with me? I thought frantically as I took a deep, shaking breath.
"Chat?" Marinette asked. "You checked out there for a moment."
"Sorry," I said, smiling sheepishly.
"What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
I'm struggling with my self-control didn't seem like an appropriate response, so I smiled wider. "I was trying to remember if I had ordered fruit for the pie I want to make tomorrow. You like apple, right?"
"Yes," she nodded, though I could easily tell she'd seen through my tissue-thin lie. Arching an eyebrow, she let it pass.
"Anyway," I said as I strained the noodles. "I was thinking of eating on the patio – do you mind setting out place settings for two...?"
The breeze from the ocean was more gentle than normal as we curled together on the comfortable wicker couch enjoying a final glass of wine from our meal. Our part of the beach was secluded and quiet, and with the shore being more than a hundred meters from the cottage, the crash of the surf was somewhat muted into a wonderful background noise.
I was laying on my side but across her lap, watching the waves as they crashed along the white sandy beach. Marinette was idly stroking my wild mane with the hand not holding her wine, occasionally running a fingertip along the edge of a feline ear just to see me squirm enough to spill my own glass. My gentle purring added to the gloriously languid feeling of the afternoon; with a full belly, excellent wine and the exotic fragrance of my girlfriend filling my feline nose, I was close to dropping into a wonderful catnap.
"This was an excellent idea," Marinette sighed. "Good thinking."
"I try," I smiled as I snuggled into her.
Marinette leaned down and kissed me between my feline ears. "That you do," she whispered softly as I drifted off to sleep.
The warmth of Marinette's lips against mine pulled me awake somewhat later; smiling as I opened my masked eyes, I carefully reciprocated before pulling away. "Now, that is a meowverlous way to wake a feline," I purred as looked up at those delightfully sparkling blue eyes.
"Welcome back," she smiled.
Seeing how the afternoon had essentially run it's course, I frowned. "I hadn't intended to sleep the day away," I said sadly, seeing her small bag of beach essentials prepped and ready to go by the stone steps leading to the boardwalk.
"I did," Marinette smiled wider.
I looked at her askance. "Are we talking about the same thing?" I asked with a slight smile.
Marinette leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled back just enough to reach for my bell. Slowly, she started to unzip it.
"That's what I thought..." I laughed.
Despite not getting to the beach proper, on the whole our first day in Nice had been extraordinary in every other way. I'd planned a cold dinner of chef salads originally, but given how the day had gone, spontaneously shuffled my plans. I'd managed to sweet talk Sabine into sharing her family recipe for coq au vin, a dish I knew Marinette favored. Given how much energy the two of us had expended, a heavier, protein-rich menu seemed prudent – especially since the evening portended more of the same.
As I moved through the kitchen getting the casserole ready for the oven, Marinette was lounging on the couch in the sunken living room; a fashion magazine with yours truly on the cover was against her chest, forgotten as she softly snored. I paused for a moment, fixing her beautiful image into my feline brain, knowing that it was the first time in months that she'd been able to truly relax.
Setting the oven, I re-checked the potatoes and the fresh green beans, then made sure my chocolate pudding was setting up properly in the fridge. Another glance at my girlfriend and I realized it was my chance to sneak away for a moment.
Using all of my black cat stealth, I dropped to all fours and slunk up the steps to the master bedroom as quietly as I could. Pausing at the landing, I verified she was still sleeping before vaulting into the room and moving directly to the nightstand on my side of the bed. Sliding the drawer open revealed the small black velour-covered box with a familiar Day-Glo green paw-print on the top I'd snuck into it when we'd first arrived.
Unzipping a costume pocket, I paused; zipping it back up, I pulled my baton from the small of my back and snapped open the hidden compartment. Before I lost my nerve, I dropped the box in and snapped it shut, vaulting back out of the room to slink down the steps to the living room. Instead of returning to the kitchen, though, I skulked into the sunken living room and folded myself into my patented patient-cat stance, cocking my head slightly as I watched Marinette in repose.
"I love you," I said softly and with meaning. "More than you can ever know. And I will continue to love you every single day of our life we are able to spend together. Which," I sighed, thinking of the ring hidden at the small of my back, "I furrvently hope we get to do."
Marinette stirred, stretching a bit as her eyes fluttered open. Catching sight of me, she smiled questioningly. "Did I miss something?" she asked.
"Nope," I replied as I leaned up to nuzzle her happily. "Nothing at all..."