Rating: strong M

5: Firm Kiss

He hadn't expected this.

He hadn't expected her.

He'd always thought Marinette was cute — how could she not be, with those lips and those hips and that energy? — but this was…

This was something else.

Kissing Marinette was a special sort of addicting he wouldn't ever have guessed existed if he hadn't experienced it first hand.

He could have foreseen waking up with the memory of her taste in his mouth, could have expected falling asleep to fantasies of her — recent attempts aside, Ladybug had kissed him exactly once after a bad battle and it had stayed with him for years; he could still remember the hitch of her breath and the taste of her tears in that little moment of weakness like it had only happened yesterday — but he hadn't foreseen the sheer force of his craving for Marinette, hadn't expected how omnipresent wanting her could be.

He hadn't foreseen needing her, breathing her, feeling her everywhere he went, on his skin just as much as she was under it. He hadn't foreseen the way a little tilt to her mouth could shut him up like nothing else could. He hadn't foreseen twitching in his seat with anticipation whenever she so much as raised a hand to answer a question in class.

He hadn't foreseen Marinette squirming in his lap while Ladybug peeled back the collar of his suit to nibble the junction of his neck and shoulder, pressed hot and flush against his back — but life was full of unforeseeable things, and Chat wasn't much inclined to question this one.

"Hey," Ladybug whispered. Her lips trailed up his neck and exhaled the words into the hollow beneath his ear, eliciting a helpless shudder. "Move your arms a little."

Marinette hummed a question into his mouth at the feel of his shudder, and drew back entirely at the sound of Ladybug's command. She studied the two superheroes with dark, speculative eyes and held still as Chat's hands fell away from her waist, silent but for her soft breathing.

Ladybug rewarded Chat with a little kiss to the same spot behind his ear. He dropped his head back with a gasp, open to any more attention she might deign to lavish on the area while her touch sunk into the pit of his stomach and settled at the bottom.

Ignoring the invitation, she pressed harder against his back. Modest breasts slid deliciously from the bottom of his shoulder blades to the highest curve of his back as she reached around him, muscled thighs digging into his hips where she bracketed them.

When a knee brushed his chest, his eyes snapped open (when had they closed?) to find Marinette laid out before him on her own bed. She rested back on her elbows while red-clad hands manipulated her legs, pulling them to part on either side his hips, skirt rucked just high enough to punch the air out of his lungs.

Marinette caught his eye, held his stare and winked as Ladybug's hands spread her legs to a downright obscene degree, saucy and smug and entirely too comfortable with putting her lacy white underwear on display for him.

Chat swallowed with a dry mouth and tried to remember how to breathe.

Ladybug didn't give him the chance.

Dragging Marinette in by the backs of her knees, his partner leaned him forward while stretching his classmate out mind-bendingly beneath him until he was pillared between their hips, his groin bracketed by Marinette's thighs from the front and Ladybug's from the back, blanketed by heat on all sides.

Chat braced himself against the bed and stamped down the urge to rut against them — an urge doubled, tripled by the pleased hum Ladybug let buzz against the shell of his ear. He could feel the buzz vibrating down his spine, gaining intensity until it rattled in his bones.

"That's better."

Ladybug's hands slid up the swell of Marinette's thighs to rest low on her hips, and he watched, hypnotized, as a scarlet thumb stroked over the area where the skirt had skewed aside to reveal his mark.

Marinette squeaked, cheeks blooming a matching crimson and her hips jerking into the contact — and, by extension, into Chat, whose vision went white around the edges at the unexpected pressure.

He closed his eyes deliberately this time, sucking in several deep breaths in a futile attempt to re-center himself. With his attention focused on trying not to shake, he was left defenseless against the way Ladybug slid back down his back, pressed so tight against him he couldn't think and ripping a helpless moan from his throat. Her belly pressed against the lower curve of his spine, sloping up to meet the hard struts of her ribcage with the soft, soft weights of her breasts resting back on his shoulder blades.

Her breathing was off-rhythm with his, and the way it made their points (expanses) of contact move together yanked his attention back with every breath he took.

"Go on," she murmured, cheek resting on his shoulder, face turned into him so he could feel the hot, damp air over the edge of his collar. "Kiss her."

His eyes flew open at the command, falling on Marinette where she was still spread out in her own sheets. She tilted her head, looking between him and Ladybug, panting a little from Ladybug's touch.

Chat's stomach clenched.

They met halfway, both moving to obey the order after the same moment of hesitation, him crouching forward on his knees and Marinette rising off the bed to meet him. They kissed softly, softly, softly, slow and gentle and sweet — far calmer than anything they'd managed on their own.

"There you go," Ladybug whispered. She finished the statement with a soft kiss to his ear, a precious reward for his obedience.

The delicacy of the gesture was shattered in the next moment when she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

Chat spasmed, electric shock running from his scalp to his extremities, pure heat blazing a path straight down his spine like a shot and oh god did everyone's ears do that or just his?

In his arms Marinette shivered right back, pressing closer, forcing him to sit up with her. The shift in angle pressed their groins tighter together, and Marinette mewled into his mouth at the same moment he groaned into hers. He put his hands on her hips to try to steady the pressure, get her to ease off a little for the sake of his sanity. His fingers folded over Ladybug's where they still held Marinette fast, and he found himself groaning even louder at the feeling of her slim digits crossed under his.

Thoroughly out of breath, Chat broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Marinette's.

She looked at him like she didn't understand why he was so affected, and he wasn't sure he could define it to her even if he'd had enough words in him to try. Just that Ladybug's fingers under his, strong and confident and sure, got him, got him in the deepest parts of his being, told his hindbrain she is mine and you are mine and she is yours, sucked the air out of his lungs at the thought of possessing and being possessed.

Marinette seemed to dismiss her confusion, visibly shrugging it off as she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cup his face. They stroked his cheeks with her thumbs before sliding her touch down to his chest, resting over his stuttering, hammering heart, making a quiet little claim of her own.

"Come on, Chat," Ladybug taunted low in his ear, a red-hot counterpart to Marinette's sugar-sweet gesture. "I know you can do better than that."

As she said this she slid her hands up Marinette's sides, over that little spot he'd discovered at the small of her back, and Marinette arched into him so hard that stars flashed before his eyes.

"Like this, remember?"

Ladybug pulled her hands away from Marinette's back to catch his wrist and move his hand to the sweet spot, and Marinette slumped against him, panting and trembling.

He didn't stroke the spot at first, just let his hand rest there while Marinette caught her breath, and she nosed the underside of his jaw in thanks, shuddering on an inhale, squeezing Chat's heart in something that felt like fierce protectiveness, an instinctive reaction of you're vulnerable and you're mine.

Ladybug's breath brushed the shell of his ear, and he braced himself for the system shock he was about to experience, but, to his surprise, it never came. Ladybug nuzzled the side of his head and touched another soft kiss to his ear, dragging a hand through his hair and making his scalp tingle, heart rate skittering.

(And maybe it was just Chat's lovelorn heart, his overloaded mind, but it felt less like reward and more like affection — like an artless, wordless communication of love supporting him from behind.)

Tilting his head, he chased the sweet caress, seeking it like a balm for his battered emotions, but Ladybug's fingers withdrew, pulling a whimper from his throat in their wake.

A warm mouth touched to his Adam's apple, eased the sound to a stuttering halt even as Ladybug's fingers slid back into his hair, nosing his ear in quiet apology. Marinette's hands ran up his biceps, stroked across his chest and drew him back to her. Together they slipped something terrifyingly real under his skin, a shot of warmth straight into his chest to back the empty heat.

When Marinette looked up at him, her blue eyes were sympathetic, kind and laughing. She ran her thumb back and forth over the suit where it failed to protect his heart, a soothing little caress that failed to soothe, a little reassurance that wasn't capable of reassuring because it was the very thing that was destroying him.

He caught her wrist and tugged it away, covering her candy-sweet mouth with his own in a desperate bid to muffle his own feelings, smother them in the heat of having the only two people he'd ever wanted put their hands all over him.

Ladybug continued to stroke his hair, running the cool tip of her nose down his neck, and Chat just drowned, drowned in the touch and taste and emotion of being the center of attention like this.

His bid had failed him horribly.

Ladybug dropped a little kiss to his nape and pulled out of his hair before it could get to be too much, and Chat sagged a little into the place she'd vacated. Nerves sparked and fizzled, his heart quivering and aching, grateful and disappointed all at once.

She nipped him for his theatrics.

"I meant actually kiss her, Chat," she said wryly, teeth scraping his neck as she spoke.

He hummed a question at her, and Marinette giggled into their kiss.

"Deeper," Ladybug suggested, smiling.

He was tempted to open his mouth as wide as it would go just to spite that smile. Luckily Marinette took orders better than he did, because he suddenly found her tongue in his mouth.

It was a very lovely tongue — he'd become very familiar with it over the course of their… whatever it was that they had — and it flitted around his mouth, flirting with his weak points, cheerfully erasing any thought of not taking this seriously.

Ladybug then erased every other thought by stroking the edge of one ear with her tongue and the other with a fingertip, a touch he felt sweeping up from his toes, raising goosebumps on every inch of his skin, oxygen sucked from the room like someone had broken an airlock, keen building painfully high in his throat.

He ripped his mouth from Marinette's and buried his face in her shoulder and breathed, trying to regain his footing. The attempt was thwarted by the fact that he could now feel that heat he'd been chasing — could feel just how pinned he was, in the best possible ways, between two sets of lovely breasts, two pairs of firm thighs, two fluttering stomachs. An overwhelmed, desperate boy stuck in the middle of two decadent embraces.

If he'd been capable of coherent thought he might have thought something frantic about fool's bets and being careful what you wished for, but now his every move only served to bring him back to how utterly he was enveloped.

This was either the highest form of heaven that existed, or the worst kind of torture.

"Hey," Ladybug whispered. The air of her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear and cooled the wet stripe she'd left behind, cutting through the static white noise in his head. She leaned him forward again and started to grind her hips into his, in a slow, dark rhythm suited for muted nightclubs and expensive red wine. Her hand added a firm, guiding pressure to his hip. "Move with me."

And he did, helplessly following the gyration of her hips. He couldn't think, didn't need to think with Ladybug here to call the shots. He let himself fall into it, into the shift and rasp of suit against suit against clothing and skin, into the little whimpers that slipped from Marinette's throat with every press, letting each push break him down further and further and further.

He felt Ladybug's hands start to move again. Marinette's whimpers got higher with every pass. Every so often she'd shiver, or moan, and Chat would feel it echo though his body right back to Ladybug, shuddering through his spine and his gut. She'd respond in her own way, a hum or a purr or a deeper roll of her hips, and that would echo through Chat too in the form of an answering growl or an obedient roll, back into Marinette who would take it and respond — and on and on, back and forth, hypnotic waves with Chat as the sand left to tumble in the rush, the most intimate of conduits used for a sensuous conversation, both the focus of their attention and not the focus at all.

He dimly realized that Ladybug was using him to pleasure Marinette, using him like a tool, like a toy, and the realization sparked a white-hot rush that shot through his limbs like intoxication.

…Except that it wasn't exactly like that. Every so often Ladybug would follow a smooth roll with a soft kiss, peppering affection over the nape of his neck, over the edges of his collar, behind his ears and over his ears. It triggered a shudder or a gasp every time, adding in the little ripples of his reaction to the constant push-pull of the waves already passing between the three of them.

"Mmn," Ladybug murmured thickly, startling Chat out of his trance. "Belle fille. Come here."

Chat moved his head, making way for Marinette to push herself up against him. A moment of wordless what? echoed through his mind as Ladybug did the same, letting go of Marinette's hip to cradle her face, and then it clicked.

He laid his head on Marinette's shoulder, face turned away and acutely aware that Ladybug and Marinette were kissing right over his shoulder.

The knowledge zinged through his blood, prickly cold-hot-sharp, making the heated pressure at the base of his spine shamefully flare to life.

That's right. Marinette had met Ladybug first. She was Ladybug's lover before she was his.

He was the outsider here, the latter addition, the third wheel for all that he was still technically between them, and, indescribably, their moment was a scene not meant for his eyes.

He could hear them, though.

He could hear the soft clicks and slick gasps. Could feel the restless shifting of Marinette's hips and the affected tightening of Ladybug's thighs.

He swallowed.

It wasn't meant for his lust or his enjoyment. It was something perfect, above him, something fantastical and ethereal. He felt guilty, dirty in the face of this, a voyeur and a sinner.

Feeling like that didn't make his head swim any less.

Ladybug murmured into the kiss, something filthy and exotic and intoxicating, and Marinette hummed back, something high and breathy and feminine. Chat was left to listen to the sinfully sweet duet, silent and shaking and forgotten and unbearably turned on.

After an eternity Marinette sank back into his lap in a girly puddle, all kiss-flushed skin and lust-darkened eyes. Chat felt a tight knot of something not quite jealousy and not quite want gather in the pit of his stomach.

Marinette wasn't only his, and it was a very strange thing to be reminded of by someone else's effect.

He didn't have time to study the emotion before Ladybug's forearm came to rest on his shoulder, delicate, red-clad fingers caressing Marinette's cheek.

"So beautiful," she rasped, the clear note of awe in her tone taking that odd knot of emotion and flipping it inside out into something that felt shockingly like pride.

He couldn't help but agree, all the same. His eyes fell on Marinette's lips, swollen and dewy, and it occurred to him that if he kissed her now he'd be able to taste Ladybug on those lips.

He licked his own at the thought, and swallowed hard as he realized he could still taste Marinette on him.

(He wondered, faintly, if either of them tasted like him.)

He didn't have time to think about that either, because Ladybug chose that moment to tug Marinette towards him, and then he was drowning in the real thing.

The kiss she gave him was soft and firm just like the last, more affection than heat, and he wondered if this slow caress was a side that only Ladybug could bring out. The thought was about as disappointing as he expected, and his chest caved a little despite the fact that he was once again ensnared in the sweetest kind of trap.

The feeling lasted up until Ladybug dropped a kiss onto his nape, touch burning hot and lovingly warm at once, and then he was fighting a whine, heart too big for his chest.

She placed his hand at the small of Marinette's back once again, and this time Chat didn't waste time in drawing his claws over it in meaningless little patterns, pulling a myriad of reactions out of her lithe body, making her shake and clench and suck and bite and oh, oh, oh—

Hips guiding him all the while, Ladybug kissed him again, fraying the edges of his mind at the seams as he finally began to truly come undone.

"Such a good kitty," Ladybug said, scraping her teeth lightly over the spot she just kissed. "You did well, Chat. Thank you."

If he'd been standing, if she'd walked up to him after a hard battle fought and won and gave him just those words, just that touch, this would have been the part where his legs gave up for good and left him to swoon into her arms or fall at her feet, whichever she preferred.

As it was, the praise slunk through his marrow, slipping through his viscera, sinking dangerous, dangerous little hooks into his vulnerable heart. It felt better, far better than it had any right to, sweeping him from head to toe and straight off his feet, twitching his hips out of rhythm with the force of it.

He could feel the clench of Ladybug's forearm where it rested on his shoulder, and that was how he knew she was the one who broke the kiss with a hand in Marinette's hair. The thought winded him yet again, leaving him to lean back, dazed and waiting.

Ladybug immediately used her grip to bring Marinette to her, so Chat dropped his head to the side once more, thinking she was going to kiss her again (and fuck if the thought didn't burn in his mind like kerosene).

Instead, she brought Marinette's face to his newly exposed neck, nudging her own nose into the other, much less exposed side.

Chat lifted his head automatically, choking on a gasp as the two chose the exact same moment to open their mouths and suck.

It was at that point that Ladybug let go of his hip, and the last threads holding Chat to her rhythm broke down. He didn't give into the urge to rut so much as the urge forcibly sucked him under while he was too weak to resist, but the effect was the same: Marinette whined against his neck as he thrust against the sweet cradle of heat between her thighs, grinding back into him with a breathy groan and a whimper; he tried to give way to her just as Ladybug rocked forward, the push of her hips forcing his even harder into Marinette. It was nearly, nearly enough to completely undo him, and far more than enough to wrench a strangled shout from somewhere deep inside his chest.

Marinette sank her teeth into him and pleasure-pain sparked behind his eyes as he moaned, so far gone just about anything would feel good.

Yet Ladybug fisted her hand in Marinette's hair, tugging it in gentle reprimand. "Tongue, belle fille, not teeth."

The unexpected consideration blindsided Chat, left him floating and unmoored at the realization that, somehow, he'd been reading this all wrong. That somehow he wasn't the outsider here, that he didn't exist in this space purely for Marinette's pleasure. It was a disconcerting discovery, one that removed him just far enough from the here and now that the sound of Ladybug's voice and the touch of Marinette's tongue brought him back with a thump.

"There you go," Ladybug purred. The noise vibrated against his skin, penetrating his flesh and bone and marrow, aching in its intensity. "Now suck, just here."

She finished the statement with a brush of her fingers against a spot on his neck, between his tendons and collarbone. He had just enough time to realize what was about to happen — just enough time to think, in horror and delight, oh fuck — and then Marinette's eager mouth was chasing the spot before Ladybug had even removed her fingers.

Ladybug in turn settled her lips on a place close to his nape, and things got very fuzzy and very clear all at once for Chat.

His hips bucked helplessly at the twin brands fused to either side of his neck, at the hands suddenly disentangled from one another and now entangled with him, at the slide and press and grind of being sandwiched groin-to-neck between the two most attractive people he'd ever met. They moved with him, despite the stuttering, slip-sliding flesh in clothing as their hips and stomachs chased his, and the heat that had been building in the base of his spine from the very beginning flared scalding hot and immediate with every touch.

He was realizing that being the singular focus of both of them was far, far more than he could take.

And then Ladybug said, "His ears, like I told you."

Someone whined. Chat thought that it might have been him.

She released his neck with a final suck and nuzzled her way up to the hollow of his jaw, littering meandering kisses over every inch of exposed flesh, and nipped the skin there lightly at the exact moment Marinette didn't release him so much as trail her sucks straight up to his ear.

He had a single moment of grace, in which his world spun wildly off its axis and failed to right itself in any sane manner, before Ladybug passed some sort of signal to Marinette.

They took his earlobes into their mouths in perfect synchronization and nipped, dragging teeth over the hypersensitive edges and sucking.

He heard himself shout very distantly through the heady fog of oh god oh god oh god, the heat crashing down around his head, the whiting-out of his entire world—

Adrien's eyes flew open, his back arching off the bed on the tail end of whatever had just hit him like a truck.

He stared at the ceiling with a blank gaze, chest heaving, dimly aware of the sweat trickling down his skin as he waited for existing to make sense again. For his heart to slow its rapid beating and his lungs to stop grasping for air.

The ceiling was his ceiling.

In his room.

Not Marinette's.

Fuck.

He took several deep breaths and ground the heels of his (shaking) palms into his eyes, limbs heavy with something that almost felt like afterglow as the feelings of twin bodies pressed warm and flush against his faded like ghosts. Tangled sheets and uncomfortably damp pajamas took their place, and he would have grimaced if he'd had the ability to do so.

What. The fuck. Was that.