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fragileizywriting · 4 years ago

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locker talk (chapter three) is out now!

pairing: Luka / Marinette (Viperion / Multimouse) word count: 9,846 / 26,058 (in total) chapter: 3/3 rating: E summary: Her fingers are in his hair again, somehow, and she grips him tenderly to not hurt and pull at him— but, gooseberries— it’s so much— she’s not even sure how long it takes for her to come back to reality and blink away the stars from her eyes. He kisses the inside of her thigh. “How are you feeling, Mousey?” “I’m—” Her eyes don’t want to focus. She doesn’t even know what she wants to look at. The ceiling? The blanket? Him? “I’m feeling fucked-out.” That gets a laugh out of him. “Cursing twice in one night? I must be doing something right.”

AO3 | Start Here | Chapter One Link | Chapter Two Link | You Are Here!

Thank you everyone for being so patient! And thank you for all the love you've given me and this fic! You're the best!

She’s never tasted the bitterness of come before.

Okay— she’s read about it. Extensively. She knows that it makes people’s faces pinch, sometimes, when they taste it for the first time because it’s an acquired taste— that for lots of people, the first time tasting it, it’s… strange. Some people don’t mind the taste, she knows— some people love it. She’s spent countless hours scrolling on the internet reading about it on her laptop that somehow has its fans on full-blast at all times, curious as to what it’s like— curious as to what people think about it and how they describe it and if they enjoy it or not— countless of hours of watching videos of people giving blow jobs and moaning afterwards as come spills out the sides of their lips.

Everyone has a different opinion about it.

She’s seen it all— or at least, she’s tried to, being self-conscious about a noisy computer never helps when it’s late at night and she feels like the walls are paper-thin— practicing her techniques on her silicone toy she wipes furiously clean afterwards, hoping that she doesn’t come off as naive when the time comes to actually go down on someone. She’s read, reread, and overread everything she could get her hands on— trying to prepare herself for this ever-elusive fluid that every single person on Earth seems to have an opinion about.

Because that’s what she does, isn’t it? She reads— makes plans— lives in her head making strategies and plans and overprepares. In every single point in her life, Marinette wants to be ready and impress those around her— desperate to live up to expectations. She wants to be prepared. She doesn’t want to be left behind or considered naive for not knowing something.

Multimouse is never unprepared. Multimouse always has a plan. She always has a trick ready up her sleeve— she always has an objective that she squeaks out in Viperion’s general direction when it’s time to defeat Akumas— she always can keep ahead of the curve and be ready.

So she reads. And researches. And learns.

She hasn’t done nearly as much research for something she already has— so even though she’s looked up tutorials on how to give blow jobs, and what it’s like— she hasn’t technically gone out of her way to properly learn how to give oral to what she has between her legs. Obviously she knows how to please herself— and can use that knowledge on whoever, should they be interested— but no one’s really shown up.

She kind of… fell in love with Luka before anything else.

How could she not?

Still, though, she’d poured over all the magazines she could find about the art of pleasing someone— she’s had crushes on all different types of people, even if Luka always came first. She wants to be prepared— she doesn’t enjoy being completely blind when she tries something for the first time in front of other people. She’s not sure if it’s because of her reluctance to show weakness— maybe it’s a mouse thing, who knows— or maybe it’s a form of perfectionism.

Whatever it is— whatever it was— its accompanied her for many curious and many long hours during the nights where she’d take out her toy and please herself and find out every single pleasure point she enjoys. She’s gotten used to the solo action in her life— she’s gotten used to the signs that her body makes when she’s on the verge of orgasming— or when her body craves more.

She wants to be attentive to everything for her partner. She wants to be knowledgeable, so she doesn’t flounder— the last thing she needs is to freak out or go into something blind— she wants to be attentive and helpful and ready and educated before doing it.

Which is why all of it is a surprise to her when there’s come in her mouth because she forgot to pay attention to Luka’s signs that he was ready to come.

“Holy shit,” His lashes flutter as she relaxes her jaw again to let him slip out of her mouth safely without getting her teeth on him. He’s thicker than her toy— warmer, too— but definitely more forgiving with the back of her throat than hard silicone when she relaxed her gag reflex. It’s good to know that he’s sensitive to the way she presses softly at his thigh and his balls with her fingertips— it’s good to hear that bit of a sharp inhale he gives when she makes eye contact with him while she licks him clean at his reddened head.

She’s so happy that she was able to make him come— she almost grins at him, and then remembers that there’s come in her mouth and it’ll spill. There’s a string of it that bridges the side of her lip to the tip of his cock— she breaks it with another swipe of her tongue, still not breaking eye contact with him, giving the base of his dick a soft squeeze.

“Holy fuck.” His eyebrows start to pinch, almost like he can’t make up his mind on what to say to her. He breathes heavily regardless, peeks of his chest rising and falling underneath that wide shirt of his. “Mousey— that was good. Are you— and you’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

His praise feels like fire all over her body— she gives a little nod, looking up at him through her lashes, trying not to catch flame from how feverish she feels.

“Come on, let’s get you to spit that out in the bathroom—”

She swallows when he reaches for her wrists.

Oh.

So that’s what it tastes like.

She understands now— oh, yes— she wants so much more.

Luka’s eyes widen when all she does is blink up at him with her quaint little smile. Time seems to stop for the two of them— and while she can make so many jokes about it and how although Luka never manages to get caught off guard, given his miraculous is about intuition— he looks completely stunned, reaching for her chin and gently wedging a thumb in her mouth to peer inside. “Marinette— did you—?”

“Uhm, yeah— sorry.” She lets him pet at her tongue, even if it tickles— she’s completely pliable between his fingers. “Did you— did you not want that? Or?”

Something flickers on his face— a combination of humor— of shock— of whatever else that she can’t exactly read. “What?”

“I meant—” She can barely squeak— her voice sounds so fucked— she hides her embarrassment by pulling away from his fingers and pressing kisses up and down his shaft. He doesn’t soften in her hands like she imagined he would— she’s not sure if that’s because of stamina or just arousal, but he’s still thick in her palm. She mouths against his skin when he groans. “Did you not want me to do that?”

“Not what I meant— I just— I didn’t think you would—” He sighs, sitting back into the pouf, and— wow, isn’t that hesitation in his voice so good? He’s weak to the way she cups his balls with her palm— she feels how his muscular thighs twitch under her forearms— how addicting. All of this is so addicting. She tucks him back in his underwear with a smile and a bite of her lip when he makes an effort to still her hands with a soft grip on her wrist. “Are you going to make it a habit of keeping me on my toes?”

She tilts her head just barely to the side, trying her best not to pinch her brows together and bite her lip. “Oh. You don’t like that?”

“I love it.” He’s breathless when he laughs, filling her with excitement again. “Every time I think I’ve got ahold of your true personality, you just keep showing me up. Come here— you’ve got some left on you.”

He kisses her.

She wasn’t sure that he’d be into kissing her after he’s come in her mouth— she’s certain that she hasn’t swallowed all of it— but all he does is groan. The hand at the back of her neck is gentle— but firm— keeping her there as he licks languidly into her mouth. She fists his shirt— her other hand against his necklaces and fisting them, too— sighing when he lets her go and nips at her jaw.

“Sit on my bed, I want to take a better look at your clothes and what’s underneath.”

“But you already know what’s underneath,” But she does anyway. She bounces a bit on his mattress once she settles down, smoothing out a little wrinkle on the well-loved blanket underneath her thighs. She feels a tiny bit bashful when he slips his fingers under the hem of her kitty section tee— and tries her best not to giggle or laugh when he tickles her sides.

“You only gave me a peak,” It’s the closest thing to a frown she’ll ever see on his face, but her world is suddenly turned upside down in the literal sense when he flattens his palm right at her diaphragm and eases her onto her back. She does her best not to kick a leg when he kisses her thigh— nips at the inside of her knee— and she helps him pull up her shirt to reveal her bra that matches with her panties. She’s soaking wet from her previous orgasm, it’s true— but the way he looks at her almost makes her come on the spot again. “Oh, so you were planning this, weren’t you?”

Okay.

So it’s not the most expensive outfit out there.

She didn’t go out of her way to buy the most alluring outfit— when she’d gone to the store, she’d fought tooth and nail against Alya’s pulling hands that tried to lead her to the more sensual of outfits. Instead, she’d spent time in the more colorful section of the store— the ones with soft pinks, dark purples, even pretty reds that are just a shade too bright to be considered sexy but just fun instead.

She’d found what she’d wanted after much internal debate with herself— a matching set stamped with pretty little blue flowers. She’s not sure what flowers they are— maybe lilacs, but she’s not sure lilacs come in a blue color— she’ll honestly put down money for them being lilies, in all honesty— but either way, they’re benign and small enough to almost look like dots on the bra unless she actively pays attention to the design.

There’s a little bow in the middle, too— and it seems like his brain is starting to short circuit the more and more he looks at it, smoothing one of his hands up her side along the ribs so he can pet at the ribbon with his black fingernails.

“Is that what you were trying to check for?” She giggles.

“Intuition,” He winks. She really tries her best not to kick out when he presses his flat teeth against her stomach. His necklaces jingle as they hit against each other— and then pool onto her hip— she squirms against the cold metal resting against her skin. Oh, oh— it’s enough to make her eyes roll to the back of her head— she lets a mewl escape from her parted lips. “I just wanted to see if I was right.”

She’s not sure she has total motor control of her lips or tongue at the moment. “What if I just wanted to match?”

“Little mouse, I’ve lived my entire life with two women on this boat. Three, if you count Rose, who’s practically made her house here other than you.” He sits back up, folding her legs over his thin hips. She can feel that sculpted adonis belt underneath her thighs— such wonderful, loving muscles that she wants to hook her legs around for the rest of her life. The brow that disappears behind his bangs makes it all the more obvious that she’s been caught in the lie. “They may be Couffaines, sure— and Rose has certainly adopted the last name for herself— but I’m sure they have some things in common with other women, right?”

She purses her lips, trying not to blush, and definitely trying not to giggle when she hears him mutter the words ‘please tell me I’m right’. “But what does—”

“Rose made me sit down and told me all about it a couple of years ago.” There’s exasperation on his face, as if he’s still overwhelmed by it after all these years. “She made it very clear that people do not match their underwear, and other things, unless they’re trying to impress.”

All she can offer is a very weak ah noise, trying not to blush down to her toes.

Caught her, he had.

One of the many reasons why she hadn’t picked to go full-blown seduction— other than the fact that, in case he’d rejected her, she wouldn’t feel ashamed to look at herself in the mirror when she went back home and detransformed. She’d pulled and pulled at her hair while trying to come up with a solution, even if Mullo kept telling her that nothing would go wrong.

Playful and cute had been her choice to wear— she’s thankful she wore it.

It makes her look soft, she’s sure— instead of trying too hard. The last thing she wants is to give the impression that she’s spent days and days thinking about something obsessively, even if that’s the actual truth. Mullo was going to go crazy if she had to watch Marinette chew through her nails again.

“You’ve never shown up at my house so late before, either— you’ve stayed for a long time during the night during movies, sure— but never showed up this late. Horny little mouse, aren’t you? Showing up in the prettiest outfit I’ve fucking seen.” It should be criminal to look at her that way while slipping his fingers under the band of her panties to tease at her skin. “Poor Mousinette— all drenched with no one to take care of you like you need it. It’s a good thing you came to me, isn’t it? I’ll treat this cunt of yours so well.”

“Vai, don’t be crass—” It’s just instinctual for her to say the phrase at this point, and it makes him smile wider at the wrong nickname. Her scolding dissolves in her mouth when he presses his cock against her thigh— tilting his head to the side just enough to make it obvious he’s challenging her to make him stop while getting distracted.

The hickies on his neck glare purple and blue, almost blending into his hair as it slips partially over his face— it’s shaggy, and long, but curling just the slightest bit now that it’s air drying— so some of the hickies practically disappear. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

She hides her steaming cheeks behind her hands as pressure continues to build and build and build right between her legs at the thought of her putting them there. His neck is littered with them— she was the one to cause it. “Oh— sugarcubes—”

“Is the night turning out the way you expected it to?”

Her breath freezes when two dexterous fingers rub against her clit— a gasp escapes her open mouth. “Vai—”

“Come on,” He teases, “I want you to answer my questions for me.”

“Yes— yes—”

He hums low, a noise of approval that makes her body feel like it’s starting to cook. “Oh, good. What did you plan on doing when you got here?”

“Plan?”

“You always have a plan,” There’s something in his eyes when she meets them again. “And I’m sure you had one when you got here, didn’t you? What did you want to happen tonight?”

She gapes, trying her best to focus while he rolls her clit between his fingers. She takes a pause just long enough that she has to wait a bit to remember what the question even is, and she punches out her words out of her mouth before all she can do is whine and cry. “Oh— I— uhm— I came here to— to tell you the truth, Luka.”

“Did you?”

“And— and other things,” She tacks on when his teasing gaze refuses to leave hers. Is he actually going to interrogate her while doing this? Oh— the thought alone makes her feet twitch. “Maybe kiss you—”

His eyes look almost liquid from how blue they are, looking at her with a soft kind of amusement, like he knows she’s not entirely telling the whole truth. “Just kiss?”

“Uhm— I—” She bites her lip. “M-maybe more.”

“More?” He tilts his head when she doesn’t answer, too busy steaming and blushing red. Something in his gaze darkens as he licks at one of his canines. “You can tell me, little mouse, can’t you? Just like you did before you sucked my dick like you were born for it?”

She’s prey.

He’s toying with her like she’s prey.

The thought makes her suck in a breath so quickly that it hurts— trying her best not to mewl in excitement and jitters.

Yes. Yes. Yes yes yes.

“I wanted more than just to kiss. Much— much more. I wanted to continue— with you? I wanted to continue what we’d done in the closet— uhm— just like we promised.”

His face softens, like he’s realized what he’s doing— like he’s afraid to continue treating her like that. Such a boyish look on his face as she looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes— god— she doesn’t know which version of Luka she likes the most. “Good. How long did it take you to cave?”

“Cave? I don’t understand—”

His voice feels like a fever on her skin from how it buffs and soothes her with its rumbliness— he kisses the inside of her knee and it makes her shiver all over. “How long did it take for you to want to come back to me?”

Oh, this man just wants to hear everything, doesn’t he? He needs such wordy reassurances— it’s as if he doesn’t believe her unless she says it out loud— is that why he never understood just how desperate her crush was until she’d actually said it with all of her words in the closet?

“The moment we left the closet,” She confesses easily. He rewards her with a firm press of his thumb pad down, swirling in circles for a good moment— just enough to make the familiar coil of heat stir heavy— bringing her to the edge, but not enough to get her over it. She stiffens at the sensation— grits her teeth to stop herself from crying out from how delirious it feels when he slows back down. “Vai— please, I— I need—”

“‘The moment we left the closet’, huh? Thank fucking god I’m not the only one— I was about to start an Akuma myself on the Liberty if I didn’t see you again soon.” The smile that pulls at his lips is enough to remind him that he has the ability to mouth and teeth at her skin— so he drops his head back down, and nips at all of the skin available to him. She gasps at the pain that starts to blossom on her stomach— her ribs— her diaphragm. “Pull you into my room and ignore anything Hawkmoth attempted to throw at me, just to keep that perfect little ass of yours to myself.”

“Oh—” She gasps, sucking in a breath. “Oh my—”

“That’s it. Keep making those perfect little noises and you’ll get your first treat.”

She pinches her eyes shut enough to see white stars behind her eyelids.

“Take off your bra for me.”

“What?” She snaps open her eyes, sounding a little breathless.

“Please?” He smiles slowly at her. “I want you to undress yourself for me.”

She scrambles to hook her hands behind her back. The clasp is simple to take off— but she can’t do much of actually taking it off because she still has her shirt on— and her miraculous is in the way, too— god damn it— so he pulls back enough so that she has enough space to slip her arms out of her bra straps and pull her band shirt off with a shimmy and a squirm. He braces a hand next to her head when she lays back down— the snake tattoo glittering blue and gold and she’s certain it’s moving against his skin. “Uhm— w-where do you want me to—”

“Leave it there.” He’s completely distracted, definitely not meeting her eyes— and soon enough, she is, too— her hands grip his damp hair as he makes quick work of the new skin presented to him. His tongue feels hot against her chest— swirling around her nipple and she cries out— he introduces his teeth, too, and it’s enough for her to actually kick out one of her legs and her eyesight to go a little crooked.

“Luka— please— oh sugarcubes—”

“You promised me you’ll get to four,” He reminds her when he pulls his lips off of her enough to respond. Her skin pebbles at the cold trail he’s left behind— chilly as he exhales against her skin. “You’ve already done one, so you have three left— is that enough for you?”

“Yes— yes— it’s enough— more than enough— please, Luka—”

“All of the pleasure you want, little mouse— whenever you want, just breathe and let go. I know you can do it— you’re so good at listening, right?”

“But I can’t—” She squirms, sucking in another breath at his reminder. “Not— not just like this— I— I need— I need more—”

It’s never enough to just have a finger there on her clit— she knows this— because she’s the one who’s spent the last six years learning every single pause and flicker of her body. She knows that it isn’t enough— and yet— and yet— she gasps when he presses down firmly again.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Are you positive that’s true?” There’s a challenge in his voice, she recognizes it instantly— but can barely hear anything else when he moves his thumb at her clit again enough to make her entire core squeeze. He swirls and swirls and swirls— and the stars behind her eyelids are starting to warp and haze into nothing. “Such little faith in yourself. Go on, Mousey. I want you to come.”

“But—”

“Right now,” He nods, as if that was the question she was asking. “I want you to come right now.”

It’s almost a shock to her when she starts coming even before he’s finished talking.

“Oh— my—” She grips his hair harder, trying to keep herself still— trying desperately to listen to the praises that spill out of his mouth and onto her skin as he continues to suck and bite and make good work of her pallid skin and her other nipple. He uses the sides of his teeth to bite on sensitive skin, emulating his fangs when he’s suited up, and oh— it feels so good to have his teeth on her, just like she’s always imagined.

Not even fingered— but she’s so aroused by this man that she’ll do anything his man requires of her if it means he’ll continue— gasping and crying the whole way.

She keeps her voice as soft as she can, knowing that Sass and Mullo are close by and she doesn’t want to disturb them. Sass is a sweet kwami, he truly is— and she doesn’t want to upset the little snake with her noises.

But it’s hard— so difficult for her to keep her voice down when Luka seems to take that as a challenge too, nipping her hard enough for her to yelp and gasp and make noises she never knew she was capable of.

“Good job. Good job.” His voice is low and decadent when she’s done twitching and batting at his thumb to stop. He uses his clean hand to smooth her bangs back, and pet behind her ear— she’s filled with a type of ecstasy that she can’t exactly shake off. Every drag of those necklaces against her chest when he pulls on her legs for her to get closer— every single drag— makes her lashes flutter, her thighs flex, and her walls seize on empty air. “I told you that you could do it.”

She doesn’t exactly have the strength to respond, but forces herself to speak anyway, her chest heaving from her world being turned sideways. “T-two more?”

Oh, isn’t that grin of his arousing?

“Two more.”

She kisses him almost uselessly, her body feeling more liquid than ever— her tongue slow and gentle against his when he slips open his mouth. She helps him take off her panties at mach speed but also infinitely slowly— she’s not sure which direction he slings it off to, but she blinks and it’s gone from his hands— and there are fingertips ghosting against her slit, gathering as much moisture as possible, giving her some brevity on being stimulated on the clit.

A finger slips inside of her.

And it doesn’t take much for a second one to join.

There’s a bit of a squelching noise when he does it— and she steams red to the point where she can almost see it reach her toes— but she throws her head back to appreciate the view of his ceiling instead of dawdling on it too much. She feels the curve of his fingers— insistent and firm, curling to find the place that makes her sing.

Her chest heaves.

“You’re so perfect,” He groans, like he’s the one getting dragged into another building orgasm— like he’s the one experiencing an entire rewrite of everything he’s ever known about his own body. He watches her with those wide blue eyes of his, as if he can’t believe that she’s underneath him— as if he’s completely taken aback that she’s in his bed at all. “That’s it, Mousey. Fuck my fingers real good.”

This body isn’t hers— it can’t be— she isn’t this fast with going again and again. It takes her at minimum twenty minutes to get another orgasm out of herself, and she’s never gone to three before on her own, always so exhausted to keep her fingers between her legs— but Luka’s never been one to stop himself from trying over and over.

Curse of the snake miraculous, isn’t it?

She’s completely at a loss as to why it’s so easy for her to shift her hips and grind down onto his palm— something she would never do if she were in her right mind— but she can’t help it. She can’t stop herself from wanting more and more— sighing softly to the point it’s almost mute in her mouth, letting him coerce her into a third orgasm for the night.

He follows her neck with his mouth— skims her collarbones with his teeth— ribs— stomach— hips— he’s charting something with that smile of his. She’s completely liquid— a certain kind of magma underneath her skin— one that heats to the point of hurting and overflowing when his lips find the center between her legs.

The world tilts for her when she’s licked for the first time.

Oh.

Oh, no— how could she have waited for so long for this? All the articles she’s read about this had tried to explain just how wonderful the feeling is, but, honestly— nothing ever written down would’ve ever prepared her for this.

She wants more. So so so much more.

She jerks at the sensation of his tongue against her cunt, eyes wide and mouth in a perfect circle, her hair spilling down her collarbones. She can’t make up her mind on where to put her hands— but she ends up hiding her mouth behind one of her palms, the other uselessly pawing at the blanket underneath her, hopeful that she doesn’t tear something so very much loved and old. He moves one of her knees over his shoulder, meeting her eyes for the final time before forcing her to pay attention to his tongue and fingers instead.

And she does.

“Oh—” She curls in more— feeling her hard-earned stomach muscles strain in an attempt to keep her up and not flat on the bed. It almost delirious that he manages to push her back with just his palm at her collarbones— like even with her core strength she’s nothing compared to the strength in his left arm— and it burns to know that. This man could fold her— easily keep her pinned wherever he wants her— snatch her and keep her— and the thought makes her body start to prickle.

Because Luka’s strong, isn’t he?

Even with almost ten years of constant dedication to keeping Paris safe with him, Marinette’s not as strong. She’s fit and lean, sure. Loyal to her craft, making sure that she’s always prepared for the next fight. She knows self-defense— she’s gone to classes for it, has certificates and colored belts that prove that even if her miraculous powers are stripped from her, she can still defend herself.

She can easily move out of his grasp if she wants to— even with his strength, with his size, she’s mastered the art of weaseling out of people’s grasps and using their weight against them in order to getaway.

But… but it’s good to lay back and let him push her back down onto the bed with barely any use of his actual strength. It feels wonderful to have him move her and maneuver her in the way he wants like she’s completely caged in by him. Squeezing and hypnotizing her and constricting her just to eat her whole.

“Luka— please, please— oh—”

He’s everywhere, it feels like, licking hot stripes over and over and over— boxing and caging her in like she’s nothing but a tiny animal. She’s polite enough not to squirm as much as she wants to— staying as still as possible to enjoy his tongue and his mouth and his teeth and him, but the desperation is almost too much to handle. His free hand is overloading her body with touch, his palm huge against the small of her waist, or curling up to pinch at her nipple— even soothing her with a gentle pet to the ear and combing through her hair when she cries out.

There’s something a smidge feral in the way he moves his tongue against her, like he’s just as desperate as she is— he’s not gentle with her as he closes his lips around her clit and makes her moan, he’s not gentle with her as he flattens his tongue against her and she can do nothing but exhale, and he’s definitely not gentle with her when he spears his tongue into her, joining his fingers inside of her.

He’s enjoying this as much as she is, no doubt.

But. But but but.

She’s the one that ends up crying behind her hands when he scrapes the side of his teeth against her swollen clit.

She’s the one that squeaks and breaks her promise to keep quiet when there’s a particular curl to his fingers inside of her that find that spot as he pistons his fingers down to the knuckle— that type of curl that makes her breath leave her body with a gasp that is just a touch too loud to be comfortable.

She’s the one who instinctively squeezes her thighs together— putting up a genuine good fight with the strength of his arm to close all the way to his ears. He smiles, of course, nipping the inside of her thigh as punishment when she feels the strength in her legs starts to disappear and fizzle out, letting him win— hiding her face behind her hands.

She comes on his tongue.

She comes on his tongue while crying out his name.

There are tears in her eyes as she registers the fluttering of her walls, as she registers his hums of appreciation, as her body finally lets go of the coil of heat that had been desperate to rebuild and crest like the previous two orgasms hadn’t happened. Her fingers are in his hair again, somehow, and she grips him tenderly to not hurt and pull at him— but, gooseberries— it’s so much— she’s not even sure how long it takes for her to come back to reality and blink away the stars from her eyes.

He kisses the inside of her thigh. “How are you feeling, Mousey?”

“I’m—” Her eyes don’t want to focus. She doesn’t even know what she wants to look at. The ceiling? The blanket? Him? “I’m feeling fucked-out.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Cursing twice in one night? I must be doing something right.”

He leans over her again, massive— huge— still petting at her face with an expression she can’t exactly read, given that she can barely keep her eyes open. She melts into his hand that pets at her cheek— desperate for more contact— desperate for the way he uses his thumb to massage at a pressure point at her neck. She feels floaty— not exactly there— but grounded with the way he pets at her side and collarbones and shoulder.

“That feels wonderful,” She finds herself saying, letting out a sigh.

“Breathe, Marinette,” There’s that boyish smile of his again. “Come back to me, won’t you? You’re drifting off— I don’t mind it, but, I want you here with me for just a little longer.”

If only meditation felt this good. She takes deep, hopeful breaths, trying to wrangle her brain back from the sated paradise she feels herself casting away to.

She pulls him down by the front of his shirt just when he lowers his guard.

He flattens his hips against her thighs with a muted noise, staring down at her curiously. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She wipes his lips clean with his shirt, fighting back a flushed smile, but failing miserably.

It’s a little difficult because of his necklaces— there’s a bit of a struggle— but he just watches her silently as she pouts to herself, wiping his face clean. Parts of his jaw are slick with her from when he moved his head to bite at her thigh, and she cleans that, too. His necklaces clink together softly as she moves them around so she can wipe him dry, but she’s determined to make him look more presentable.

“You promised me four,” She whispers when she’s done, cupping his cheek.

He takes a good, long look at her, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in her head. If only he knew that there’s nothing but him. Has been for a long, long time— just him him him. “You’re not overwhelmed?”

She tilts her head enough to the side to make it apparent she’s confused. “Do you want me to be overwhelmed?”

“No, no. You’re just looking the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you, Mousey.”

“You’re always so good at doing that to me,” She murmurs, her eyes batting slowly from how lethargic she feels. “You always make me feel so calm. And wanted.”

“I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we first met.” He moves his lips in a way that indicates he’s thinking about it. “I feel like I’m going to end up breaking you if we keep going.”

A whine rips out of her throat when he shifts, trying to pull away from her and settle down next to her instead. “No— no— stay, Luka— come on— I still want more— please stay—”

“I’m not leaving you, you cuddly little mouse,” He laughs into her neck when she pulls him down more with all the strength available to her. It’s hard for her, because she feels like she has no bones left in her body— and Luka still is so massive, and much stronger than her if he really wanted to fight off her grasp, but in the end, she’s able to keep him exactly where she wants him. His erection is stiff against her thigh as she wraps her legs and arms around him, smushing her face into his shoulder, hugging him like she’s trying to cling to him like a full-body pillow. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to not crush you. Are you always this cute?”

“I— I have no idea. I’ve never had someone to hold after coming— pillows, sure, but it’s a little depressing after thinking about nothing except you or Vai or both when doing it.” She mumbles into his shirt when he finally settles back down and she wins the proverbial wrestling match to keep him right where he is.

He makes a noise that makes it obvious he’s interested. “Vai? Both?”

“Make fun of me, I dare you— I now know that you love the mouse suit, and I will use that against you the next time there’s an Akuma.” She attempts a frown, but it comes out more of a sigh, and she just sinks with it, nuzzling into him when all he does is laugh and laugh at her weak threat. “Mmmm. I never knew I could get so handsy and grabby—”

“And cuddly.”

“And cuddly during sex,” She smiles, giggling into his collarbone. “I hope it doesn’t bother you.”

“Are you kidding? Absolutely not.” He kisses her face to prove his point. Cheeks, the closest ear, her temples— her forehead under her bangs, too— he kisses everything. “Nothing you could ever do would bother me. You’re the love of my life, Mousinette— you have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted to cuddle up into you like this. And, god— Marinette— not to even mention how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

She blushes when he cups her face with his giant hands on either cheek. “Oh— don’t say that after you’ve been between my legs, Luka— I don’t want to go shy again just as soon as I’ve started being brave.”

He pulls back just enough to look at her, but not enough to pull away and make her whine again. He looks cute with all those stars in his eyes. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“That last orgasm knocked a few self-conscious thoughts out of my head,” She giggles. “I’m feeling very brave now.”

There’s a challenge glinting in his eyes again. “Are you?”

She demonstrates by pulling up his shirt to take it off of him. He follows easily, his eyes greedy as he watches her pull by the hem. She’s quick to duck when they almost bump their foreheads together— him caging her in, matching her by only having his necklaces hanging off his chest. “Your pants, too. Take them off?”

“I like this bossy version of you,” He nips at her wrist when she curls a finger through his damp hair. He doesn’t want to get up, it seems, because he shimmies around, pulling down his sweatpants and trying to kick them off along with his underwear and socks. She attaches herself to his shoulders when he’s done wrestling himself out of the fabric, also completely naked.

She’s thankful that the porthole’s curtains are closed. But it’s too far in the back of her mind as she feels his sturdy weight on her. They’re skin-to-skin, shoulder-to-shoulder, and chest-to-chest. Wonderful and smooth and comforting— his weight feels absolutely perfect against her.

“Am I crushing you?”

“Do you have your weight on your arms?”

“I might,” He kisses her face. She feels the way his thighs clench in order to stop himself from humping her side— she can’t help the way she sighs into his ear and traces his back with her nails. “The last thing I need is to snap your ribs in because of my weight.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Luka.” She sighs contently, watching him drop his clothes onto the floor with one of his arms. “I’m capable of not dying, thank you very much.”

“I know that— it’s just— I really did take it the wrong way, Mousey. I really didn’t think you liked me at all as Viperion.” He hums. There’s a certain kind of sweetness to his face. “I know that it isn’t true anymore.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats. “But I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m scary.”

“I am most definitely not scared of you.” She shifts enough for him to hiss and groan. Oh, this poor man— if she wrapped her hand around him, how many times would it take for her to pump him before he’s spilling once more?

“Okay, okay— hold on, hold it. I need to get a condom right now or else I’m going to jizz— if I reach over to get it, will you let me go or will you make more cute noises again?” Something about his eyes gets a little clearer when he watches her open her mouth to stop him. “Holy shit.”

“Well,” She begins, but has to pause because she ducks her head, a bit embarrassed.

“How— what in the— oh, fucking hell, Mousey.” He laughs. “How long have you been planning on fucking me?”

“You’re cursing again,” She manages to pout.

“Marinette,” He’s exasperated. “You can’t expect me to— at least let me curse one more time— you’re not pulling any punches tonight. Let me react earnestly.”

She taps her chin in thought. “Hmm.”

“Unscripted, at least.” He combs his fingers through his hair— once again, Luka looks completely stunned. It’s hard to see Luka completely out of his element— he always has an air of humility that always translates to him feeling calm and collected in front of other people.

Except right now, of course.

“Fine, fine. One more.” She lifts up a finger as she giggles. “Any more than that and I’m biting you.”

“Okay. What in the absolute fuck.” He laughs hard enough to shake his shoulders. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeves?”

“I do not have any sleeves on, so I do not have any more tricks,” She grins.

“You better not. I don’t think my heart would be able to handle it— knowing that the girl of my dreams is just one-upping me in everything. I should’ve known better than to fall in love with a girl who plays mental chess for fun— is this why you have perfect grades?”

She scrunches her nose at him. “You are so mean, Vai!”

“Little nerd,” He teases, pausing enough to smile adoringly at her. “I love hearing you call me Vai.”

“It sounds like you’re making me say it on purpose,” She grumbles, pursing her lips into a little pout.

“Okay. Answer this question: how long have you been wanting to fu— uh— I mean—” He watches her arm fall back onto her chest as she narrows her eyes at him, uncurling her hands from the flick she was going to give him to his arm if he finished cursing. “How long have you been on birth control?”

“I’ve been wanting to get on it for a long time as a precaution— but I’ve only had my implant for two years, so…” She’s feeling a little bit bolder when he just shakes his head, muttering to himself about how she’s always three steps ahead of him. She’s full of laughter and charm when he kisses her cheekbone. “You don’t need a condom, if you don’t want to.”

“You’d let me have that choice?”

She nods her head hard enough for it to hurt. “Whatever you want to do, Luka.”

He looks at her.

Really looks at her.

She has no idea what’s going on in that head of his, whatever he’s thinking or planning— all he does is continue to blink at her slowly, like he’s trying to give her a chance to chicken out. She continues staring back, looking just as confident, smoothing her palms down his biceps that have her trapped on either side of the bed.

He kisses her again.

It’s not a deep one— just a kiss that’s cheeky enough that she complains when he pulls away so quickly— and it’s enough to get his body to start working, apparently, because he slips his hands under his bed for a shoebox that stores what looks like to be a bunch of condoms, and smiles at her in a way that makes her heart stutter.

“Flip over,” He says, having made his decision.

She somehow manages to almost trip over her legs as she flips over, trying to face the other way— even though she’s not even standing— and Luka snickers when her ankles make a clicking noise when they hit each other and she groans from the pain.

She hears the wrapping of the condom slide open. “Don’t hurt yourself, Mousey, as much as I want to just stare at that ass of yours—”

She glares back at him with a warning. “Luka, you promised!”

“Ass doesn’t count as a curse word, I’m calling it now— don’t— don’t kick me. I’m not as tough-skinned as you think— I will cry. You have thighs for days, and I have seen it with my own eyes how you have kickboxed your way out of Akumas trying to grab you.” He laughs. “Besides, like I was saying: give me a second, you horny little mouse— and try not to hurt yourself while I’m busy putting this on.”

“I’m not trying to hurt myself,” She sighs, letting her hair fall over her shoulders and coat the sides of her vision like a curtain when she looks back to the headboard with a little humming noise. She wants to watch him— but she also wants to feel it like a surprise— she’s on the fence of what she wants to pick. “I think I’m a little too excited.”

“I am, too.” He kisses her shoulder.

It’s so easy for him to start slipping his way into her.

She’s never had sex before, it’s true, but it’s easy for him to slide in from how wet she is. She’s soaking— her inner thighs are sticky from how humid she is and how strands of her come bridge between her soft thighs— and she’s always had the help and use of a toy to keep her company when the yearning got too difficult to bear, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how to adjust.

“Good?”

There’s barely any need for him to pause and let her relax, because she’s perfectly fine and content— her walls stretching with barely any pain when he slowly fills her to the brim.

So she shifts her hips and pushes back into him, all the way down to the base, much to his worry. It’s a tight fit, even with how wet she is— but that makes it all the more enjoyable as her core squeezes and squeezes, stinging from how stretched she feels.

He moans.

“Oh, gooseberries— this feels good—” She makes a noise when he presses the heel of his palm onto the center of her spine, curling it for her and raising her hips up to meet with his. The angle feels weird, now— his cock pressing up against her in a certain way that she’s never done before with a toy— she feels fuller. Much, much fuller— now this has some pain to it. “Oh! Oh! What in the— how did—”

“You look hotter with your ass up and curled spine, Mousey— I mean, that’s just my preference. That’s better, too, isn’t it?” He groans, keeping one hand at the small of her waist to keep him anchored as he snaps his hips against her.

“Yes, yes— much better. Holy sugarcubes.”

It’s hard to keep her sighs of appreciation in when all he does is continuously snap his hips over and over into hers, making it feel like she’s punching out her breaths with every lineup with their hips. She feels like a whirlwind— completely flexible and totally boneless as he fills her again and again, hitting the back of her thighs with the front of his. It’s an easy position for them to fall into a simple rhythm— and the two of them being partners for so long in their lives, it’s not hard for the two of them to figure out how to get each other off and how to take it.

She’s in love with the way he moves his hips.

But…

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” She manages to gasp out when he just barely meets her ass with his hips.

“Yes I do.”

“Vai,” She groans. “Stop being scared and fuck me like you want to— I promise I won’t break. Get as aggressive as you want. Please.”

The next snap of his hips has a bit of actual strength behind it.

Their skin meets with a hard slap that is so lewd— so obviously disgustingly hot that she would’ve burst into flames at the noise— but instead all she does is sink further into the blanket underneath her. Her knees ache from this position— being forced to stay the way she is as Luka uses his weight against her, but she can’t flatten herself on the bed because she’s busy snaking a hand around her front and rubbing herself with her fingers.

She manages to cup one of her breasts, teasing and plucking at herself to the point where she finds herself curling her toes. She sounds desperate, because she is— threading her fingers with his hand that supports him as he fucks and fucks.

It’s delicious.

Oh, it’s so delicious.

“You are going to be the death of me,” He groans against her shoulder.

“That’s not part of the plan,” She breathes out, and she’s happy that it pulls out a breathless laugh from him.

The hand at her hip travels to her clit and starts to roll it between the pad of his fingers. She makes a need, filthy noise, nearly losing all of her strength at her knees right there and almost folding herself in— instead, she lets go of her breast to fist at the blanket underneath her as she’s taken to the edge for the final time tonight.

She’s so close.

She’s so, so close.

“Luka—”

“I don’t— I don’t want to come— before you do,” He answers the question she wasn’t asking. “But I’m still a lot closer than I should be.”

“You can come whenever you want—” She can’t finish her sentence because he flattens her shoulders against the bed with his chest.

“Not a chance.”

“Vai—”

“Not happening,” He laughs. The proceeding slap of skin is enough for her to start seeing stars. “I’m going to— retain some upper hand against you— you little minx.”

He slows down— and she’s close enough that it almost makes her growl at the back of her throat, feeling her inch so closely to the edge and not get anywhere close to it. Instead she groans, desperate, feeling unsatisfied even as he continues to swirl his fingertips against her. “Please, please— stop teasing me— I’m so close, Luka—”

“I want you to come like this.”

“What?” No— no— not this again— she’s not prepared to come like this— “Luka—”

“You can do it, can’t you?” He kisses her shoulder. “Come. Right now, Mousey. You can do it.”

And she just— she just— oh, gooseberries— the coil in her snaps.

Of course he goes back to his brutal pace when she’s finally coming.

She’s exhausted, him still pounding away— him still worrying her skin between his flat teeth, sucking in blacks and blues all over her shoulder without a care in the world— him still somehow swirling his pointer finger over and over and over against her clit.

She’s fried.

She’s completely and totally gone, her body flooding over and over with heat and pleasure, feeling like she’s finished an Akuma battle— her walls squeeze to the point it must be pleasurable for him, because Luka loses the tempo he’s kept in his head.

“That’s it. Good— good.” He groans against her skin when she cups his giant hand with hers, trying to pull his hand away from such sensitive flesh. “Thank fucking god.”

She has enough energy left in her to jokingly nip him on the wrist, scolding him for cursing like she’d promised she would— but squeaks when his hips stutter and he makes a noise that’ll keep her awake for the rest of her life, and he’s— oh. He’s coming.

He groans low and hard enough to make her eyelids flutter— she can feel him twitch, and pulse, and she’s a tiny little bit upset at not being able to feel him leaking between her legs, but the kisses and teeth against her neck and his weight against her back are relieving enough.

Maybe the next time she’ll be brave enough to ask him— but until then— all she does is flatten her hips down on the bed while he tosses the condom away and groans into the blanket when he comes back to wipe her clean of residue and stickiness, and latches onto him for cuddles the moment he has his guard down, not letting him resurface from his burrow of a bed for the rest of the night.

He’s so thankful that he manhandled her octopus-like cuddling body under the covers with him last night.

She’s sound asleep, curled into his shoulder, completely gone and completely useless against him in bed. He feels floaty, and wistful— fuck— three orgasms in one night isn’t something he’s done in a long time. Had he known that Marinette was going to show up the night before, he wouldn’t have wasted his time masturbating in the shower.

Had he known that she’d come over, he would’ve at least gotten his bedroom ready. There are no laundry piles in his room, thank god— but he’s not sure when the last time he’d washed his blanket. Or sheets. At least pushed the amps against the wall instead of the middle of the room like he has it— well. It’s too late now.

There’s a poem just nagging at him to be written down, so he’s slapped his hand around next to the box he uses as a nightstand for one of his journals and a spare pen, scribbling away against the lined sheets of paper as he looks at her while she sleeps.

He hides his face into his notebook when he pauses for more than a second to think about last night.

God. Jesus.

He’s a complete and total sap of a person.

An entire sap.

But nothing that he’s writing down in his notebook even remotely fits his vision of what he wants the song to look like— he’s simultaneously frustrated and full of ideas. Every word that he writes down is from the heart, but nothing he writes is anything good enough whenever he looks back down to Marinette sleeping.

The rhythm of the poem isn’t right— and it’s bothering him that he can’t get it down. He thinks about it for a couple of minutes, letting sunlight filter in through his closed curtains, listening to how quiet the Liberty is for the few moments longer before Juleka, Rose, and his mother come back.

He’s so thankful Marinette is under the blankets with him.

She’s covered up— he’s begrudgingly put a shirt on the both of them— given her underwear back even though, honestly, if she wanted to be naked with just a shirt on, he’d beg for it for the rest of his time— including all of the second chances he would have to keep doing for the rest of his life during Akumas.

This is all just in case Rose was to burst through the door, which is a strong possibility.

The plus side is that it’s one of his shirts, and it’s so large on her that the necklines nearly falls over one of her shoulders if she doesn’t adjust it every so often. He can see all of the hickeys he’s given her against her neck and shoulder every time the shirt slips— she’s an entire canvas of it. The downside is that he wishes he could keep her naked for as long as she wants to be— but knowing his household, the answer is a firm no.

Unless she’s willing to deal with his mom barging in on them both with no regard for privacy.

Unless she’s willing to deal with Rose barging in on them both with no regard for boundaries.

Juleka’s fine. But she’d have to open the door if she wanted to communicate with him, so long as it isn’t through text message— but at least it isn’t because of lack of boundaries.

Still though. He’s so thankful that there’s a lock in the bathroom. His mother is a riot. And doesn’t seem to understand that teenage boys— and now young adult men— have urges.

He has no idea where she went last night— somehow his sister had genuinely been able to convince her to disappear from the Liberty. He owes Juleka about a quarter-million favors, now, and it worries him on how she’ll cash it in— but looking back down at Marinette and how she fists his necklaces on his chest in her palm as she sleeps— he’s so sappy he feels like the smile on his face won’t ever come off.

He watches her doze a little longer, and shifts the bangs out of her eyes. Marinette is a cuddler— and latched onto him for warmth and snuggles throughout the entire night. His heart feels swollen in his chest the more and more he thinks about her desperation for heat and warmth and him— to the point where he’s apprehensive to even keep the notebook and pen in his hands in favor of going back to sleep with her.

She’s so cuddly.

And cute.

In the end, he loses against Marinette, even if she has no idea she’d been trying to convince him in the first place. He drops the notebook off onto the pouf next to him, and makes sure to tuck his shoebox of condoms back far underneath his bed before his mother bursts in on the two of them and makes him— not to mention Marinette— feel scandalized. He hides under the covers with her, shimmying back down and making sure that she doesn’t accidentally choke him with such a powerful grip on the silver cords he has around his neck— and tucks her head under his chin.

He tries not to groan when he hears his mother yell out his name and tell him and ‘ the lassie’ to wake up before she pulls the covers off of the two of them because she needs help moving stuff out of the deck.

AO3 | Chapter One Link | Chapter Two Link | You Are Here!

#vipermouse #pro lukanette #pro lukamari #lukanette endgame #viperion #multimouse #fragileizyfic #fragileizyoneshot #fragileizywrites #fragileizylukanette

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