Rating: very hard T

12: Chest Kiss

Marinette's fan was broken. It caught with a little grind on every revolution it gave, failing to actually bring the temperature of the room down at all. All it did was stir the muggy summer humidity around like a pot of stew.

That humidity sat on her skin, dewing under her clothing, making her nice white button-down stick to her skin and itch uncomfortably. It was a relief when Chat's claws caught the back of the blouse, lifting it off her slick, sweaty back, and she hummed her appreciation into his mouth.

He pulled away softly, slowly, their mouths parting with a wet noise, and looked down at her with dark, hooded, considering eyes.

She blinked back, open, and drew in a shuddering breath, using his shoulders to steady herself. The heat slowed them today, the oppressive weight of it thick and heady as they knelt on her bed, turning the kisses they shared molasses-sweet, molasses-slow, rich and languid.

Chat kept his eyes on hers as he carefully shifted his hand from the curve of her back down to the bare skin he'd revealed at the small of it. She shivered — like she usually did when his hands ventured in that direction — and held his gaze, bemused at the deliberation. His glove did feel very, very nice there, so she didn't say a word. Only waited.

He didn't keep her in suspense. Just as carefully as he'd moved his hand there, he set his claws against her damp skin.

Then, without any warning, drew them sharply across the small of her back.

The force of the sensation shot through her nerves like a whip crack. Her nails dug into his shoulders while tingles shot through her flesh, tearing through her daze and stoking the muted glow in her core the same way kerosene stoked bonfires. She pressed her face against his throat and gasped quietly as her thighs threatened to give out, trying to spread on pure instinct.

Against the bridge of her nose, his throat vibrated with a terrifyingly considering hum.

Marinette swallowed hard. That could mean something either very good, or very bad.

Or both.

'Both' seemed to be the answer when he drew his claws over her skin again, more slowly this time but with the same amount of pressure, and Marinette's thighs really did start to give out. Clinging to him didn't help; her front slid tantalizingly down his as she slipped, the friction of his hard muscle against her breasts and stomach making her head spin and her insides melt.

She whimpered against his collarbone, biting at his suit to muffle the noises escaping her throat as she shook and tingled. The sensations were both far too much and not nearly enough, trapping her between extremes, driving her to both squirm into and twitch away from his hands in turn.

His claws changed direction for one tiny little scratch, the unexpected movement tipping the balance in favor of 'too much.' Marinette's elbows locked, pushing him away of their own accord.

Even so, she whined when his fingers slipped away. The scales swung wildly, and it wasn't enough.

Chat sat back, leaving the the humid summer air to swirl between their bodies and cool the sweat soaking damp through her shirt. He gave her the same considering look he'd given her before he'd reduced her to this wreck, and Marinette viewed it with new trepidation.

Without his support she sank back on her heels, knees spreading wide in spite of herself, and Chat's eyes went from considering to...

Well.

She wondered what she looked like, to make him look like that — she could feel her minuscule jean shorts riding high on her thighs, white shirt plastered to her body and going see-through with the sweat slicking her skin. Her hair was curling at her temples and nape from more of the same, tangled and loose from his hands, and her lips felt swollen... she probably looked very thoroughly kissed.

Chat opened his mouth to say something, and paused. Cleared his throat. Tried again.

"Arms," he croaked, watching her like he was trying to hold himself back — she wished he wouldn't. "Put your arms above your head?"

Confused but willing, she raised her hands above her head.

Quirking a shaky little grin at her baffled stare, he caught her left wrist and moved it up and over, stretching out her shoulders and tendons deliciously in the process. Then he repeated the process with her right wrist, bringing it up to cross over her left.

She caught his eye and blinked at him, questioning.

His grin only widened.

"Think you can keep them there?" he challenged softly, trailing his hands back down to her hips, making the fabric of her clothing shift against her in irritating, wonderfully prickly ways.

Twisting her fingers together where he had placed them, she smirked a wordless dare right back.

Try me.

Challenge issued, challenge accepted, and she saw the recognition of it spark in his eyes. He slid a hand into her hair and encouraged her to tip her head back with a gentle tug.

She did so, baring her throat to him, gut clenching tight in anticipation and nerves.

He ducked down to press his lips right above the hollow of her throat, right at the most sensitive, most vulnerable of the places she'd just opened to him. A sharp breath caught in her teeth, sudden tears pricking the corners of her eyes at the unexpected intimacy, chest compressing under the feeling.

His mouth moved on, moved down, pressing kisses to her sternum as his fingers left her hair and drifted back to the small of her back to drag his claws over her flesh again.

Her hands twisted together, and she firmly reminded herself that she wasn't allowed to touch him right now. It took effort to bite back the urge to grab him, guide him, her teeth gritting at the shudder that shot down her spine.

The claws on her back drew a soft figure 8, sending electrifying little sparks skittering under her skin that made her jerk, a tender caress to a sweet spot she never would have guessed she had.

He continued to draw kisses down her chest, lower and lower and lower, and she dimly realized that his other hand had come up to unbutton her shirt. The side of his nose brushed against the swell of her breast, following the line her bra cup drew over it, and a whimper caught high in the back of her throat while her hips jumped, thighs trying to spread wider.

There, she wanted to tell him, there there there, I need you there, but neither her voice nor her airways would obey her. All she could do was arch helplessly into the touch, hoping he got the message.

Apparently he did. Pausing the meandering trail of his mouth, he turned his head to first press a kiss to the spot, then opened his lips to apply a light suck.

Marinette's hips bucked without her consent, dislodging his hand in the process, and she very nearly swore. What came out instead was a choked growl, rough enough to play counterpart to the way her shoulders were starting to burn in all the best ways.

His voice thrummed in a low laugh against her breast, making her squirm even more violently. His hand replaced itself on the small of her back, lower this time, nearly dipping beneath the waist of her shorts with each slow drag of his claws.

Then he pushed her down into the pillows to suck a mark into her skin for real.

By the time he was finished her vision was wavering, too hot in the summer heat, too tight under her own skin, too full and not nearly full enough, ready to beg if only she had the words to do it.

The hand not on her lower back came up to push the cup of her bra to the side, and her thighs jerked still wider, her ragged breaths adding to the humid air between them. This was it, this was what she needed, desperately, right in that moment—

Only for the moment to be shattered by a loud, all-too-identifiable cry from somewhere outside.

"Tense? Frustrated? I think you all need a little DOWNTIME!"

The declaration was quickly followed by a wave of terrified screams, which heralded an explosion, after which descended ominous silence.

Chat's head snapped up, his green eyes wide.

She was going to kill the damn akuma.

Marinette lowered her arms with stiff movements as the villain's artificially enhanced voice rang out again.

"So much work and so little play! Everybody's just going to lay back and RELAX for a while with the help of my Bath Bombs~"

Chat reared up without thought and then paused and turned back to her, uncertain.

She glared.

He blinked.

"Well?" she snapped, resisting the urge to shake him. Her body ached fiercely in protest of the loss of his heat, even in the day's attempt to make freshly baked muffins out of the two of them. "That was an akuma, hero. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

That earned her a very strange look, presumably for her vitriol.

Well, he wasn't the one being left high and dry after something like that.

"Ye-e-es," her partner said slowly, expression cautious. "Will you be all right, princess?"

No. No she wouldn't. "Of course I will."

A tree took the opportunity to fall in the park, presumably from the explosion. The boom of felled lumber sounded surprisingly nearby.

Caution morphed to worry behind the green eyes of his mask. "That was really close. Maybe I should stay until Ladybug comes."

Yes, she thought acidly. Maybe you should.

(Of course, there was the small problem of Ladybug being unable to show up in a more literal way until he left.)

"I'll be okay, I promise," she sighed, giving her frustration a swift kick in its metaphorical butt. She needed to be a responsible superhero right now, even if she wasn't wearing the spots.

Chat gave her an insultingly unconvinced look, and Marinette cast around for a reassurance that would get him to leave.

"Ladybug," she said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. "Ladybug will come check on me."

"Uh. Really?" he asked her, startled.

"Y-yup," she lied, the words tasting funny in her mouth. "She normally does."

"Sh-she does?"

He didn't have to look that surprised, Marinette grumped to herself. Hadn't Ladybug asked him to look after Marinette once?

Which... kind of implied she and Ladybug were close. She could work with that.

"Yeah," Marinette chirped nervously, fingers coming together and winding and unwinding in her little tell. She had a terrible poker face. "She uses my room as a hideout when I'm not here. A-and she checks on me after big attacks, sometimes. And she was going to come over later — she told me!"

That was reasonable, right? For Marinette to be Ladybug's keeper? She fought down the panicked burn in her stomach.

Another explosion rang out from the other side of the park.

"Right," Chat drew out slowly. "If you're really sure—"

"I am," she interjected hurriedly.

"—then I guess I have an akuma to fight."

"Yup," she squeaked, trying to wave only to find she'd tangled her fingers together so tightly they required un-tangling. She worked her hands free of each other, looking up in time to catch Chat's salute as he crawled to the edge of her bed and stood on the ladder.

Almost instantly he hunched over, a pained little 'tch' cutting through the humid air.

"I'm okay," he reassured her before she could ask, holding up a wry hand even as he continued to hunch over her handrail.

"A-are you... sure?" she called out hesitantly, tugging her clothes back into place while he kept curled in on himself during his hobble down her ladder.

"I'm sure," came the dry reassurance, and he tentatively straightened up to open her window.

Any attempts to ask if he maybe needed to sit down a while longer were stalled by the jaunty salute he gave her. Marinette only had time to raise her hand in an answering gesture before he was out the window.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, she dropped her hand to press the heel of her palm between her thighs and tipped her torso forward, wishing her bed was hard enough for a good solid head thumping. Her earlier panic had cooled her down enough that it was unlikely she could take care of her tension before at least a city block was destroyed.

Pressing her face into her pillow, she spat out every curse word in her vocabulary in rapid succession, then took a deep breath and forced herself upright.

"Tikki, transform me."

The magical light swirled around her body, doing nothing to ease the hot aching unfinished feeling. She reflected that she was going to kill that akuma.

Marinette... Tikki murmured warningly in her mind.

...She was going to finish that akuma very quickly and non-fatally, Marinette corrected herself.

Tikki just sighed, and Marinette hurried to pull herself out of her hatch so she could take care of at least one of her problems this afternoon.