Adrien had been under the impression that he understood his instincts; the sexual longing and the aggressiveness were, of course, impossible to control at times, especially when his reserve and resolve were swallowed up in Chat Noir.
The heat of battle, unpredictable, and the scent of ozone, or blood, or fear in his nose tugged up blood-lust, sent him into a destructive spiral out of a desperate need to pluck Ladybug or even random civilians out of danger – to protect or die or both if one was needed to accomplish the other.
Yet instinct was comprehensible; its limits and inclinations known.
Then Marinette had walked into class.
He hadn't understood his instincts at all.
At first, it had just been a rolling wave of peace, growing muscle along his shoulders and back clenching and unclenching. Tension he hadn't even felt because he always carried it bled away like puss from a lanced boil. The pressure was gone, another pressure building.
Then he scented her at the same moment that he heard her voice, her wavering giggles triggered by something Alya said as they walked down the hall, but he had no idea what it was. He was deaf to every other noise; his nose was stuffed with cotton that let only her scent through.
While he gaped and tried to root about in his bag just to make it seem like he wasn't staring at her from out of the corner of his eye when she entered, the sun, moon, and stars walked into the room, face aglow, radiant and flushed in a way that he had never imagined.
Kagami smelled of alluring cinnamon and acrid bitterness that made him lick his lips.
Luka of the fresh and clean sea breeze that had him swelling with desire for him and for freedom.
Ladybug of heady roses now, and a lightning storm before, calming, alluring, and exciting.
His mother of lilacs. Childhood.
His father of death.
And he wanted to cry.
Marinette's scent...
She made him cry and he had to hide it. God. He had to hide it!
She smelled of home.
He didn't even know what that smelled like.
Now he knew.
Home smelled like Marinette.
It was kind of like Ladybug's, but softer, gentler. Fitting for their "everyday Ladybug."
Everyone was drawn to her, even Lila, clustering around her like children at their mother's feet because Marinette had already been everyone's mother in a way: always listening, always sacrificing, always loving.
It was an excited huddle of Omegas and Betas who as if by instinct recognized that she was special as they plied her with questions and even the quiet Marc and Nathaniel were exuberant.
She never lost patience. Was never overwhelmed by them, and like a mother doting on her children, she brought gifts – food from the bakery that she had made for most of their classmates, and a knit hat for Alya.
There was even a little platter of macaron for Lila, which Marinette handed over while plastering on a fake smile, only slightly less tortured than the one that the Italian girl returned to her.
Then the anger came. He tried to fight it, but he seethed with rage, stewing and sulking like a little child.
Shouldn't she have something for him?
"Oh, Marinette. It's so sweet of you to think about me," Lila cooed as she opened the small box of confections. "And you made salted caramel macaron. Those are my favourite."
"I always try to remember everyone's favourite flavors, Lila." Marinette nodded, prickling an instinct that demand he fold her into his body and just... hide her from the world and especially Lila's gaze. How would Lila twist the kindness into an insult?
There was only a ... sad smile. "I know. You-you're very thoughtful like that, Marinette. And I'm so happy that you awakened as an Omega. That kind of attitude is going to make your mate really lucky if you ever find someone who wants you."
Of course they would; they'd get to eat Marinette's pastries every day. And smell her, the sweetest thing of all the wonderful treats that Tom Dupain had ever "baked."
"That's very nice of you to say, Lila. I know that I'll be able to make someone very happy," she sniped, though Adrien couldn't understand the undercurrent.
"I'll be sure to share you lovely gift with my friends. I can't eat them, no matter how delicious they look. After all, I have to maintain my weight," she preened, running her hands down the sides of her waist, emphasizing the curve of her breast and hips. "I am Gabriel Agreste's muse and one of his top models, after all. I'm sure that your mate would lose his figure if he was given the chance to eat so many delicious treats, and I can't afford that."
A slight undulation raced through Marinette's body, not quite a wince, but enough to have him leaping up to her, tugging her into a side-hug as even in his own nose, his scent heated and thickened. The bustle of the room quieted and then rose up again, strained and fake.
Marinette was small, soft, and delicate against his side when he curved an arm around her shoulders, only just deflecting away from her waist. Pupils blown and mouth flopping lightly, she looked up at him.
"They'd find a way to burn off all the calories," Adrien sneered, savouring the increasing heat from Marinette. His chin pressed to the top of her head, and she nearly yelped when he scented her. Asshole. He shouldn't have done that without her consent.
Before Lila could ooze and slime her way into a more advantageous position in the conversation, Adrien tugged Marinette away to her desk, directing her motions, controlling her.
He hated himself as he let go of her to take his seat. After all the times that his father had stripped him of choice, how could he do the same for her? He had to be better. Had to hide just how much of a fuck up he was, and here he went screaming it to everyone.
As if she heard the petulant mental lament she paused while retrieving her school supplies from her bag and leaned toward him. The sun smiled. God, it could breathe life into a dead man, and – and was she using her scent? Could she do that? The waves of home, a smell like the taste of honey – as if he was awash in golden sweetness that smothered the flames of his anger – crashed into him.
"Are you alright, Adrien?" she asked, upbeat, as she leaned into his desk.
He only just managed to nod, voice gone.
"He's fine, girl," Alya said, almost as if jealous of her friend's attention to him. "He's just been testy over the last few days. It happens."
Marinette frowned, and there was something about the wan expression that made Adrien want to clasp his hands around Alya's throat. "I'm really sorry to hear that you haven't been feeling well, Adrien. Is there anything that I can do? My mother has a really great recipe for a ginger bok choy soup that's great at settling the stomach. I- I could bring it to you tomorrow, if you want."
That offer did, in fact, settle his stomach.
"It's alright, Marinette. You don't have to worry about me."
"Thank you for helping me with Lila," she said slowly, leaning in so the other girl couldn't hear.
Alya's eyes narrowed for a moment.
A flurry of subtle blinks and a twitches of Nino's hand seemed to pass for communication between his best friend and Alya. If his instincts hadn't suddenly picked up the attempt to conceal the motion as a threat, he wouldn't have noticed.
Alya backed off, sliding back in her chair and refocusing on her cell phone.
"No problem, Marinette. I could see that you were feeling uncomfortable, and I never want you to feel that way. School should be a place where you feel safe," he offered with a smile because it was true. School had been his escape. The place where, even now that he was imprisoned by his instincts, he wasn't surrounded by death. What would people say if they knew that he only felt safe when he wasn't at home?
The melancholy thought must have shown on his face.
"That's very kind of you, Adrien." So much so that Adrien could see a slight mistiness to her eyes while she almost flopped towards him, splaying her forearms on her desk.
"Are you okay, girl?" Alya offered tentatively from her side, setting down her phone. A spurt of jealousy was hot in his chest when she touched Marinette's shoulder softly.
"Yeah- just... really kind of emotionally-raw. Everything's on the surface," she mumbled.
"There's something to be said for honesty." He glanced over at Lila, who was circling the class and being a "wonderful" friend by sharing the macaron that would spoil her figure. As if there was anything there to spoil.
"And there's such a thing as too much honesty," she grumbled, nose scrunching up like an adorable, confused puppy that he wanted to scoop up into his lap.
To keep himself from exploring the image of Marinette curling up atop his crotch and groaning as he pet her, he slammed his textbook onto his desk and made a valiant effort to try to read the random page that had flopped open.
The fight against himself did not go well for either party involved. If you think that I look bad, you should see the other guy.
There were few things in the world more frustrating than an overbearing guardian. His father organized his schedules meticulously, and the Gorilla was controlling out of concern, though he had loosened the reigns when Adrien had awakened and shown off some of his progress in akedo.
That was why he kind of hated himself for the rest of the day.
Caught up in the desperate need to ensure Marinette's safety, he shadowed her wherever she went. Through the rest of first period, he was a wall between her and Lila, interjecting into their subtle spates and undercutting the snide comments that Lila offered. The temperature in the hallways dropped a few degrees whenever Marinette passed through because he was exerting himself, calling up instincts he never knew that he had to puff himself up and ward off the absolutely fucking unending attention she was getting from everyone!
The sea of students parted and then swelled up around her. Alphas scented the air long before she passed and stared when they did, until they bristled and prickled, turning to glance at him instead as he abandoned even the pretense of reserve and exuded violence and threat in every subtle action and shift in scent.
They couldn't be allowed to touch her or even get close. He had to protect her. She was his to protect.
And he couldn't stop touching her.
Any excuse that he could find would do. She didn't need to be helped into her seat. He didn't have to carry her bag for her, easing it off of her shoulder – but he did because it smelled like her and the scent rubbed off on his hand or back – as she nodded eagerly at his gentlemanly and kind offer to "take the lady's bag."
He kept scenting her, rubbing up against her whenever she was near, finding ways to brush his wrists to her arms or nudge her with his chin. All the reserve imposed on him by his father might have held him back, but when he pressed in close, Marinette just smiled up at him brightly while her scent spiked with something that was bitter-sweet but even more alluring than her smell of home. It was the same thing, but tinged with a promise that he couldn't understand.
Gym was hell for everyone. It was obvious, of course, that Marinette was fit – compactly built and wiry. A thin pair of shorts clung to the smooth curve of her ass, stretching over the taut muscle and emphasizing the way that her butt stayed deliciously firm without the hint of a wiggle as she jogged or jumped.
Small, muscular butts were underappreciated and he had to rectify this oversight.
The tight tank-top she wore revealed glorious clusters of freckles on her shoulders, stars to compliment the warm sun of her face as she beamed at him throughout the entire session. He could only hope they were for him.
His rubber-necking led to him leaping face-first into a wall when going for a loose ball during basketball drills.
Sweat and exertion had her scent oozing trough the entire room, consuming it as he huffed and slavered and panted, not the least bit tired. Even betas like Nino had to see it.
It was there that the arousal hit full force. He needed to bury his face between her fragrant breasts as she clutched him to her chest; revel in making her sweat as he threw her into a wall and worshipped her body and broke her down into a sobbing mess, mapping out every fine inch and gentle curve of her figure by taste and smell and touch alike until she wound up so tight that she would explode in vicious and desperate pleas for him to – to make love to her.
Halfway through his drills, a break become absolutely vital.
As he toweled the sweat from his brow and downed an entire bottle of water just so that he could force himself to stop breathing for a moment, he stared out at her while she was stretching. Her flexibility was incredible, outstripping anyone else in the class – anyone else in the gym – when she raised her leg to the wall and leaned into it, nearly bringing her extended limb all the way to her chest.
She could lock her legs behind her neck, he bet...
Fire lapped at his balls and weeping cock.
Then, she moved to another stretch that nearly had him leaping out of his seat so that he could pin her and ravish her.
She knelt down, spine perfectly straight, knees unbent, and effortlessly touched her fingers to her toes, throwing her ass in the air.
Presenting.
Her barely clothed pussy was angled right in his direction as she held the stretch for what felt like hours as he squirmed.
Even the other Alphas around him gave him a wide berth when he growled aloud, white-knuckling his knees to hold back from leaping across the room and knotting her in front of the whole gym or snuffling his nose into the crux of her thighs so that he could drown in the sweet honey-scent and taste.
He... he wanted her to sit on his face as he clutched at the fine muscles of her ass and she rode his mouth.
That was new.
He hadn't even know that was a thing, but he certainly wanted it even if it wasn't.
Gym was effectively over for him at that point, and he had to retreat to the showers.
They were, however, occupied, and remained so. Even if they hadn't been, showing off your knot and erection were one thing. They were guys, and it happened. Jerking off in the showers was another entirely. The locker room always reeked of preening and competitive Alphas, shame a bruised pride, ego and machismo. That alongside the completely unheated shower was enough to cool him down.
Even though the scent of her was still hot in his nose, he hated washing it off of his body.
When he changed and left the locker room, toweling his wet mop of hair, refusing to style it again because he wanted it to be wild, he tried to find her and was shocked to find that he could actually track her to class.
That too was hell because he heard nothing, saw nothing, smelled nothing but her.
Whenever he craned his neck backwards under the pretense of stretching, she was looking at him. Of course she did. He sat in front of her, after all.
She fled from class when the teacher dismissed them, and shame over having chased her away because he was overbearing and aggressive and probably stank of confusion, longing, and a dozen different kinds of need, stopped him from racing after her.
As he gathered his things and shared a fist-bump with Nino by way of farewell, he realized something.
He hadn't thought about anyone other than Marinette all day. Sexually, at least. Outside of that first moment when he compared her scent to Marinette's and- and found it wanting, he hadn't even considered Ladybug.
Shit. Fencing practice today was going to be followed by a long conversation with his ... prospective mate, Kagami.
Ginger steps carried him towards the school entrance as he weaved his way around students who were racing to escape. His gait was admittedly awkward because, as per usual these days, he was still hard, but this time monomaniacally focused..
Then, the scent carried him in a daze, bursting in his nose and sending his limbs flopping.
There, on the steps leading out from the school, she was waiting for him. Her hands were worrying together, nearly clenching, and he so wanted to scoop them up in his palms and kiss them and soothe away all of her worries – to keep her safe from her fears and the world alike.
"Hello, Adrien," she greeted with a slow smile, looking up at him, eyes sweet and warm with shy amusement. "I was hoping to catch you before you left for the day."
"Is everything alright, Marinette?"
"I – I wanted to give you something," she replied, her hand tightening on the strap of her school bag. "I would have given it to you earlier today, but you- you seemed a little bit unhappy, and it didn't feel like the right time."
"Oh- uh, really?" he fumbled, clinging tightly to her soft hand. Her fingers were smooth and small against his palm, and her lack of stuttering had him lost. Had she smelled him earlier? Of course she had. Did she notice that it was different for her, or... The palpitations of his heart became nearly painful. Had she thought he wanted her just like he did almost everyone else? That she wasn't special?
"Yeah," she began, setting her bag to the ground and rummaging through it for a second before withdrawing a small box. Even as she shoved it in his direction, her eyes were shut tight and face clenched up. "Here."
When he took the box from her, it was like that day years ago. Something electric and warm passed through his fingers as they brushed hers, and time seemed to freeze. She broke away with a shudder so that he could cradle the gift and ease off the top
Macaron.
He sniffed.
Passionfruit.
"You made these for me?" he asked, licking his dry lips.
""And this."
When he looked up from the perfect, glassy-smooth confections, he saw her holding out another gift: a black woolen scarf.
"It's not as nice as... as the one your father got for you, but it's warm and I thought that it might be comfortable as the weather starts to get cooler and I had a lot of time on my hand with a five day weekend that I took off to start to get a handle on everything so – so it wasn't any trouble to make, so if you don't want it or if it's not good enough-" she broke off and jerked her gaze to his face when he plucked the gift from her reverently, holding the box of macarons in his free hand.
It was woolly-scratchy, and tightly knit. Fluffy and warm as he brought it to his cheek.
It smelled of home.
He'd never wear his father's scarf again.
With a slow half-kneel, he put down the macaron, leaving them on the raised edge of the landing, and admired the scarf with both hands, testing its grid-line pattern with his thumbs. It was perfect. He raised it to wrap it around his neck, covering himself with her scent.
Marinette was staring, mouth parting and nostrils flaring as her breathing deepened into something hypnotic, rhythmic, slow, the rise and fall of her chest – had it always been that appealingly curved? – only enough to distract him from her eyes for a single moment.
Then, she was in his arms, hugged tightly and giving back just as good. Her strength wasn't even surprising. Who had initiated? Or were they just caught in each other's gravity, falling into one another by nature?
They stood clutched together for a moment and he hated that he had no idea what to say.
"You smell really nice, Adrien," she muttered into his chest, the motion of her mouth and jaw thrilling.
The sweet scent of her hair and pheromones pouring from her scent glands had him lost, swimming in an ocean with nothing but clear sugar water surrounding him.
"Marinette... you smell like heaven."
"Really?" she breathed, tensing up.
"Yeah." His cheek ran smooth circles across the top of her head before she tugged backwards to look him in the eye. He'd thought of her eyes as 'bluebells' before, but the way they darkened reminded him of Ladybug's cool confidence and made him feel like he could bed himself down in a field of flowers. "You always have, but I- I never realized it until now."
"You- you were with me all day, so-" She snuffled the sleeve of her shirt, pressing her upper arm to her nose, and then looked back at him shyly, face stained red. "So, even after showering, I still kind of smell like you."
Could he say it?
He already was.
"I like that too." His thumb found her cheek, stroking as if he was trying to wipe away the blush.
She swallowed. "So- so do I."
She accepted his scent. Maybe as pack. Maybe as a friend. Maybe as something else, especially with the -
Jesus!
There was a flood of want that was not his own, sweet where his was musky spice, and a beautiful blush on her face that complimented an expression that was heated in a completely different way and that he wanted to see again, and he was hard against her belly – and- and she could feel it from the way that she looked up at him as if in awe.
"Adrien, I-"
"Marinette, would you let me give you something?" he interrupted in a rush, trying to blink away the haze and he needed to speak because it forced his brain to work, rather than slip away into ... into that smell wafting up from between her legs. "To pay you back for the – the scarf and the macaron."
Her face fell, and it nearly killed him how she was squirming in his arms.
"You don't have to ... pay me back, Adrien," she muttered.
That wasn't what he meant at all, and his hands itched to tear out his own guts for making her sound like that.
"I want to give you something, Marinette – some... some fabric or something for your ... designs," he began slowly, trying to get a handle on the anger that had him stiffening in her arms, not that he wasn't already stiff. He didn't know if he could say it, but Alphas protected even from the effects of their own stupid mouths. "I'd want to give it to you even if you hadn't gotten me anything."
He thrilled at the sight of her teeth worrying her lip, leaving it temptingly red. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he affirmed with a nod, tightening his hold on her waist to make certain that his hands didn't do anything ... wrong. "I am. I- I'll bring you something tomorrow, okay?"
She nodded, and the sun was back, even as it was darkened by the threatening clouds of their commingled scent.
The extent of his instincts had been something that he'd though that he understood, but he never felt this. It wasn't sex, and it wasn't nesting, or love, or any one thing. It was the heady mishmash of a dozen desires that he had no words to describe, and it terrified him especially as she left his arms.
He was weeping hard, lost in the sea of her scent that clung to him as he brought the edge of the scarf to his nose for comfort as he watched her leave.
It smelled of her room and of her, and now her sweetness was in his skin. He groaned as he scooped up her macaron and tripped his way down the stairs to his waiting car, gait awkward due to his attempts to conceal the effect that Marinette's scent still had on him.
Nothing in his experience had prepared him to deal with this – the conflicting desires and needs that a father should have explained to him. How could he find a healthy way to bring these feelings together, he wondered as the Gorilla guided him into the back seat of their car to take him to his arranged meeting with Kagami.
God. She was going to kick his ass in ways he couldn't even imagine. He was probably anemic with how much blood had shifted into his cock.
Marinette wanted him. Physically, at least. She knew about Kagami, too. Could she - could she want that too? Her too?
How was he supposed to deal with any of this, juggle the need and the longing to protect, the 'hardness' and the softness so that he wasn't ... that he didn't reveal to Marinette or Kagami or any of the people he loved what a horrible disappointment he was? Did he love them? Was that what this was? How could he know?
He needed help. Had needed help for so long.
Nino was a beta, and a bit of a mess himself. He – he was a good friend, but didn't have experience or any real responsibility, and he was cowed by his girlfriend. Anything they said or did would get back to her and then to Marinette.
As if in an effort to dislodge the blockage in his brain, he smacked his skull back into the headrest behind him, the padded surface doing nothing to him. A few minutes of that kind of self-abuse did nothing to help address the issue of his erection; nor did it provide any insights.
There had to be something to take his mind away from this – to take him out of his body because it was just too squirming hot. Reaching out to pluck his ipod from his bag, it hit him:
Luka.
Luka had the perfect balance, it seemed. He knew how to be tied down and free; caring and reserved; warm and cool. That was what Adrien needed. Balance. The older boy had everything together, it seemed – all the incongruous little parts of himself that made him a wonderful friend and substitute parent for Juleka.
A male role model, even if he was an Omega.
Not ideal, but considering the alternatives were an ancient cheese-obsessed deity and his own father who'd had seventeen years to teach him anything, that seemed a pretty solid choice.
While his driver navigated the streets of Paris, "ignoring" Adrien as he yet again broke his diet and enjoyed the two-fold bliss of Marinette's passionfruit macaron, he pulled his cell phone from his bag and composed what he hoped was a respectful text message to Luka.
Adrien: Hey, Luka. Do you have a minute?
A little electric tingle of uncertainty burst in the base of Adrien's neck and had him clenching at the phone while he tired to distract himself by examining passersby from the car window, ears straining eagerly to pick up the chime of a reply.
That only brought his attention back to the fact that he was bathed in Marinette and still very much feeling the effects.
When it came after only a few tense seconds, he jerked back to stare at his phone.
Luka: Sure thing. Just finished school. Was going to practice.
Adrien winced. He hated to interrupt.
Adrien: Just wondering if you were free tomorrow evening.
Luka: Your free?
Adrien: Around .
Luka: *you're
Adrien: Right. Don't want to impose, tho.
Luka: Not a problem. Love playing with you.
Adrien: Same. Sure it's no trouble? I know it's last minute.
Luka: Totally fine. You could have stopped by wo asking.
There was that Luka kindness and generosity again. While he was pondering an appropriate response, another text arrived.
Luka: Houseboat is always open to Rose. You too.
Adrien was well-aware that Rose's home-life was ... difficult. Her parents refused to acknowledge her relationship with Juleka. Was it better or worse that they didn't simply dismiss it as "a phase." That comparison with Rose – the thought that Luka made it. Was he implying something?
Luka: You alright?
Adrien shook his head. It was rude to pause in the middle of a conversation.
Adrien: Yeah. Just arriving at fencing practice now.
And indeed they were, the Gorilla pulling up to the curb at Adrien's fencing academy. Good that he hadn't lied. To busy his hands while he stared at the little chat-bubble, waiting for Luka as he typed out a response, Adrien exited the car and allowed the Gorilla to retrieve his fencing equipment from the trunk.
Luka: Sure. I've seen you with Kagami. Very artistic motions. Good inspiration for a song.
The praise for his form had him warm. Like an idiot, he nearly tripped over the edge of the first step while trying to compose a reply. Someone appreciated his performance.
Adrien: Flattery. Let me know if anything comes from it.
Luka: Yeah. Talk tomorrow at 20:00?
Adrien paused at the top of the steps, just outside the entryway.
Adrien: Sounds good.
Luka: Great. Ciao.
Unable to restrain a little burst of giddy childishness, Adrien sent a cat emoji as a farewell.
Now, if only he wasn't still a walking hard-on, he might actually be able to offer Kagami a challenge.
And they probably needed to have a talk about ... all of this, too.