FSE

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It was dark, and they were both fairly tired from a long day. Of course, neither of them knew that they'd experienced the entire long day together. It was just a matter of fate that the two heroes had no idea that they were living nearly parallel lives alongside one another -- Ladybug, though, had her focus fully on Chat Noir. He was teasing her; of course, he was always teasing her. His flirty nature made her blush, the crimson color matching her suit and eliciting a salacious grin from his handsome features.

She wanted to scream from the frustration of it all -- he was so bad, and honestly... at some point, she'd realized that she was tired of being so good.

That was where her plan had come into place. She'd been thinking about it carefully for the last week, and realized that there was nothing to do but to go for it. After all, the worst that would happen would be that it failed miserably... and if that were the case, she'd have nothing but more blushing. Since she was experiencing that anyway...

It might have helped if Marinette was more of a flirt in real life -- but for the moment, she wasn't going to worry about that. For the moment, she was going to don her mask, her alter ego... and she was going to be someone else entirely.

And so, when the black clad feline approached her, his grin sardonic and his eyes all for trouble, instead of leaning back and going red, she leaned in.

"Quite a night, isn't it?" Her hand came up, and she let one finger trail along the edge of his mask for a moment. Watching the reaction blossom across his visage was priceless. At first, he kept that smile, because he seemed to forget that it was there at all -- then, his eyes widened, his lips parted... and she watched a small splotch of crimson tinge his cheek.

"Of course it is, what with us together." He grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. It was clear that he expected her usual reaction; a quick jerk away, or maybe shoving his head back. Instead, she flipped her hand over, using it to cup his chin and bring him up so that they were mere inches from one another.

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

And again, his eyes widened. It was utterly clear to her that her behaving like this was the last thing that he expected... and that was exactly what she'd hoped for. Marinette took two quick steps forward, and Chat took two quick steps back, his breath coming out in a rush and his wide eyes focused on her features as though she was possessed by some kind of demon.

"Are you, ah, feeling all right, Ladybug?" His voice was nervous, and the very unfamiliar sound of it was enough that Marinette nearly danced forward as she followed his retreating figure.

"Never better, chaton." She drew the nickname out carefully, and then giggled in delight when his cheeks went from a splotch of crimson to a full wave of the color.

"Maybe you've had enough of being out for the night, I'm just going to--" and he made to leave. He was actually trying to escape.

She'd planned for this, of course. She took a few steps forward, her hands producing a collar that quickly snapped around his neck. In a quick motion, she pushed him back before he realized what was happening.

This is exactly what she'd expected... and this was exactly why she'd brought them to this location. She leaned in, grabbing the collar and snapping a chain to loop on it. It clicked home, locking shut with a resounding sound that made Chat Noir's eyes widen.

"What are you doing, Ladybug?"

And finally, she felt the confidence to be as flirty and as bold as she wanted. After all, how many times had he teased her. How many times had he given little comments, little touches, little remarks... It was finally her turn.

And so, her voice was warm and full of purring heat when she responded. "Whatever I feel like."

The crimson blush on his face spread to the top of his shirt, and he jerked forward in an attempt to get away. His hands came up to the collar, and she let out another small giggle as it gave him a light zap. It wasn't enough to hurt him, but it would be more than enough to keep him from escaping, or from doing anything that she didn't want him to do for that matter. She took a moment to survey the sight of him, all chained and delightfully flustered, and then she knelt between his legs.

"Come on, chaton," she used the nickname again, and watched his face twist with the way that it spilled from her lips, "You've been wanting this for a while, haven't you? How long have you flirted... how long have you teased? Don't you think it's about time that I had a turn?" Her eyes were wide, her lips falling into a fake pout... and then she slipped her hands forward to the black suit that he wore and quickly found the zipper. He jerked again, which resulted in another quick zap that caused him to pause in place.

"But--"

"No. No arguing. No fighting it. It's my turn." And her voice was so demanding, so commanding, so emphatic that he could do nothing but stare at her as she peeled his costume down to his knees, and then quickly plunged her hand between his legs before he had a chance to realize what was going on. He gasped at the sensation of her warm, soft palm closing around his length; she let out a small gasp.

"You're into this, hm?" He was already half hard, and she had to admit that the sensation of him cupped in her palm wasn't unpleasing to feel. He was big -- bigger than the tightness of his suit alluded to. She licked her lips for a moment and looked over his lean-muscled body, the warmth in his eyes... and the shock and embarrassment there that was being chased around by darker emotions. Maybe he was fighting her, but it was clear that he wanted this.

That was going to make everything that she had planned all the more delightful.

Her hand began to work at the length of him, and after a half minute of careful pumping, he was hard in the circle of her fingers. Chat Noir moaned, and she relished in the sound of it as she continued her work, leaning forward on hands and knees so that her ass stuck up in the air and he had a perfect view of her body prowling before him; it was part of it, after all. The seduction, the chase... the revenge for each and every time he'd sent her sprawling with a blush.

"Man, Bugaboo, I didn't know you had this in you." He gasped the words out; he was clearly still flushed, still shocked, but he was trying to regain some form of control on the situation. Marinette wasn't going to have any of it -- her hand picked up the pace, her fingers gliding along his length before she let her thumb run over his already sticky tip; he jerked forward, his hips flexing, his body shuddering at the feel of it...

And, of course, that just made her smile all the more.

"You don't know a lot of things, silly chaton. It's all right. Before I'm done, you will."

And, whether it was the simple fact that he was growing far too aroused to speak back, or she'd finally said something to shut him up... he didn't have anything else to say. Instead, his voice was a myriad of aching moans and whimpering groans and grunts. Occasionally, he would murmur something about how good she felt, or how much he wanted her... and though she took every word to memory, she was more focused on his face. She was more focused on the way that his breath came more and more rapidly.

Marinette could feel him pulsing in her hand, each vein sticking out and working harder and harder as his orgasm grew nearer. There was a pulse that made him feel all the harder, all the larger beneath her fingers -- his head had fallen back, the restraint of the collar momentarily forgotten. Chat Noir was grunting and groaning, and his chest shimmered with perspiration in the low light of the building where she'd let them to.

Finally, she could see it washing over him -- his eyes, which had been half slitted, snapped open suddenly. Those pupils were blown wide with pleasure. The flush on his face crept all along his exposed flesh, and his hips bucked and rocked forward wildly as he came to the edge of his pleasure, ready to dive off of the deep end and fall into orgasm.

In a quick motion, she flung herself forward. Her hands found his wrists, and she shoved them behind his back. He was too enraptured in his near release to understand what was happening until a loud click sounded through the air -- shackles... and his hands were trapped...

And she wasn't touching him anymore.

He was gasping, his entire body reeling and rocking, his whole frame shuddering from his near and denied release.

"W-what... what are you... why?" Chat Noir could hardly form a coherent sentence. His hair was clinging to his sweat slicked forehead, and his eyes were wide and wild from the fact that dizzying pleasure was still swimming right behind them, waiting to be released.

"Oh, did you think we were going to be done so quickly." Marinette grinned at him, standing up and putting one hand delicately on her hip so that she could look him over. He was honestly a sight to see, sweating, panting, with his cock a hard, dark blush that bubbled pre-cum like a silent cry for mercy.

She wasn't going to give it.

"Ladybug... please?" And his voice was a soft, whimpering beg. Instead, of answering, she slid her hands to the back of her costume and let the bodysuit peel slowly from her frame, exposing her pale flesh one slow inch at a time. His eyes widened, and he only writhed harder, fighting against his restraints as though he would somehow be able to find his release on his own.

She had no intention of that happening.

"Oh, chaton," she stepped forward, so that she was scant inches from his face, so that he could see that her pussy was wet, too... so that he could see how much she was enjoying this. "We've only just gotten started."