Chapter Text
Ladybug released the tension on her yoyo and dropped into the shadowed alley adjacent to the square. She didn’t normally wait for Chat Noir before engaging, but there was nothing normal about Zombiezou’s senti-monster. Ladybug had never given much thought to the akuma after she’d been defeated, but mostly because she avoided it; thinking about how close Zombiezou had come to winning, about how only Chloe’s sacrifice had made victory possible, had given her nightmares.
She was seriously beginning to regret that choice.
“It’s fine,” Ladybug said, sinking into her usual bravado as she flipped open her yoyo. “We beat her last time. We’ll beat her again. Chat Noir, where are you?”
The odds were good, even if her partner wasn’t picking up. Sure, Hawk Moth was stronger, but so was she. Once they deakumatized Mme. Bustier, Ladybug could produce her protective charm. She only had to face her one more time. Besides, if worse came to worst, they had a team of back ups. Alya could make it happen. Probably.
“I can’t think of back ups now,” Ladybug whispered harshly to herself. “It’s like asking to fail. But…still…”
She couldn’t help but fire off a quick text to Alya:
LB: Standby
She didn’t have to wait long for a response; the thumbs up came in seconds later, followed quickly by a smiley face. Despite how out of control Ladybug felt now that someone knew her secret, she couldn’t pretend there wasn’t also relief. Besides, she reasoned, Alya was just filling a role Master Fu himself had created. Having someone on the outside was just good safety.
Bracing herself, Ladybug leaned out of the mouth of the alley and tried to assess the situation. Maybe Chat Noir was doing the same. Maybe that was why he hadn’t gotten back to her. She refused to think of the alternative.
The senti-monster looked as though it had crawled out of the Seine itself. It was a collection of moss-green tendrils the size of a small building, all twisted together to form a dozen writhing limbs. The appendages were all joined in the middle to form a body. As she watched, one of the tendrils shot out to snatch a man from the doorway of his business as he tried to find better cover. The senti-monster devoured the man whole with barely a ripple.
Ladybug shivered at the sight, but consoled herself: she’d been eaten whole by senti-monsters before as well. While an uncomfortable experience, it was usually painless and often bigger on the inside. Hell, she’d probably have to defeat this one from the inside out herself, too, and while its size made her hesitate, experience had her leaping into the square. Enough people had suffered.
A tentacle barely missed her as Ladybug sprung across the square. It struck the cobblestone where she’d been so hard she felt rocky debris rain down around her. No sooner did Ladybug come to her feet than she loosed her yoyo, aiming for one of the balconies rimming the square. She huffed as she picked up momentum and arced over the senti-monster, searching for the weak spot. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of twelve appendages all surging for her at once.
Ladybug deftly avoided the tendrils, noting as one shot by her that what she’d first thought was seaweed actually appeared to be more of a slimy, rubbery consistency. Redirecting, she couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t have to actually be touched by the creature, but she buried the useless sentiment. It didn’t matter if she was or wasn’t. She’d done far worse, and would again before they won. The Miraculous would protect her. Everything else was inconsequential.
Zombiezou, Ladybug noticed, wasn’t with her senti-monster. It was odd, but Paris was a big city. Zombiezou had been an effective adversary before; perhaps she’d decided the most constructive course of action was to divide and conquer. Perhaps the senti-monster was a trap. Perhaps, Ladybug having revealed herself, Zombiezou was already on her way to the square.
Either way, the opportunity was too great. Ladybug had someone on standby, Chat Noir was on his way (she hoped), and Zombiezou was nowhere to be found. She could take the senti-monster out now, and then when Chat Noir finally arrived, Zombiezou would be outnumbered and they’d have a better shot. Besides, a senti-monster was no match her lucky charm.
But first she had to find the weak point.
“Alright, Nessie,” Ladybug said, dropping back into the square. “Time to go back to the loch!”
The twisting limbs shot for her again, but Ladybug was faster. She struck with her yoyo, so hard and fast the senti-monster shuddered with the impact. Ladybug couldn’t help the grin that came to her lips, especially when the appendages froze. So at least it wasn’t invincible. That meant she would probably be able to -
Ladybug’s smile evaporated. She tugged on her yoyo thread again, but it held fast, buried in the side of the senti-monster. And then, horribly, the yoyo string did seem to contract - toward the monster, dragging her with it. Panic flared in Ladybug’s gut, but she shoved it down. She couldn’t come up with a solution if she was freaking out.
She couldn’t let the yoyo go. Without it she wouldn’t be able to summon the lucky charm or call for back up. She yanked on it again, but all she succeeded in doing was stalling the line for a few moments.
“Chat Noir,” she said through gritted teeth as the line lost another few inches, “Now would be a great time to show up!”
She half expected him to drop out of the sky, as if he’d just been waiting for the most dramatic entrance possible. She was almost surprised when he didn’t. He usually had a knack for timing, if not daring rescues.
It was as though the senti-monster realized the reality of the situation just moments after Ladybug did. It had her tool. It nearly had her. And help wasn’t coming.
“Fine,” Ladybug said as the appendages began moving again. Her smirk was back as they descended on her, and she hoped it hid the flutter of fear in her stomach. “We’ll do it your way.”
She didn’t fight as the limbs slid around her arms, her legs, her waist. She remained calm as it began to drag her toward its body. This had been a very real possibility from the beginning. She knew that. And she was headed towards her yoyo. If she played her cards right, she’d have the senti-monster dispelled in a few moments. She couldn’t even feel the obvious sliminess of the limbs through her suit. No, this was all some version of her plan. If she was being honest, the only thing she would have preferred would have been for Chat Noir to be there.
Abruptly, Ladybug found herself at the bulk of the senti-monster. There was a moment of cool pressure, and then everything was dark. A moment passed, then another. It was as painless as she’d anticipated. As far as she could tell, she was still being moved by the senti-monster through its body. For the first time, she felt a twinge of uncertainty; she’d assumed the senti-monster was simply taking hostages. Too late, she remembered senti-monsters were never simply someone’s sidekick; they usually performed a function of their own.
Ladybug tensed, twisting in her bonds. She needed to get out of here and capture the amok. She needed to call Alya.
The tendrils wrapped around her body didn’t release her. Instead, Ladybug shuddered as she realized they were sliding against her, continuing to curl from her shoulders down her biceps, her elbow, her forearm, her wrists. From there, they pulled, gently but inexorably, until her arms were straight out to both sides. Ladybug was dully aware of her yoyo slapping back into her palm, finally released, but it was secondary to the sensation of the tendrils around her ankles spiralling up her calves, her knees, her thighs. They rested there and didn’t go any higher, but the sensation still made her shiver.
She didn’t wait for the one on her waist to start moving, but she felt it begin to slide against her suit as she thumbed open her yoyo and frantically typed a message to Alya.
LB: 9-1-1. Senti-monster.
Ladybug jerked as she felt the tendril at her waist wrap around her torso, slide across her back, and cup her breasts, warm against her even through her suit. She thought it might continue higher, but when it didn’t, she abruptly realized the senti-monster wasn’t restraining her. At least, it wasn’t just restraining her.
“N - no!” Ladybug yanked on her arms, her legs, but aside from a slight give, the senti-monster held her fast. She needed her lucky charm. She should call it now. But she’d have no way to use it, trussed up like this, and then she’d only have five minutes until she was completely vulnerable. At least the suit afforded her some protection. Not to mention it would put her identity at risk when her teammates got her out. If they got her out.
It wasn’t hurting her yet. Perhaps it lacked true consciousness. Perhaps it didn’t even know how it held her.
“Relaaaaax.”
The deep voice seemed to come from everywhere, only half-formed, like the sigh of a breeze through a sleepy weeping willow. Ladybug searched for it, but nothing materialized in the dark. Chat Noir’s night vision would have been better suited, but just then she was glad he wasn’t there. At least he could probably still do something. At least she hadn’t lead them both into this trap.
Ladybug shuddered, tensing as she felt another tentacle slide around her hips. Whatever she was going to do, she had to do it now. If she wanted to win, if she wanted this to stop, she had no choice. She gripped her yoyo.
“Lucky Cha-!”
The fifth tendril was smaller than the others but just as aggressive as it slid into her open mouth. She hadn’t even realized it had been waiting, just inches from her face in the dark. She jerked as it crawled into her mouth, so surprised she dropped her yoyo altogether.
Furious, Ladybug bit down on the tendril. The rubbery consistency gave easily against her teeth, but didn’t sever like she’d hoped it would. It didn’t withdraw, either. Instead, it seemed to wait, using every readjustment in her attack to squirm in deeper until it was laying fully across her tongue. Ladybug tried to yank her head back, but the tendril moved with her. She pushed against it with her tongue, recoiling from the texture, but she couldn’t hide her own surprise at the taste.
She’d expected something nasty and suffocating. This was neither. It tasted sweet, and almost against her will, almost unconsciously, Ladybug’s tongue slid tentatively along the shaft of the tendril, as if to make sure she’d been right. Sure enough, she was met with more of the same sweet taste, this time accompanied by an aching warmth that settled throughout her body. Slowly, the tentacles that cupped her breasts rubbed against them, back and forth, back and forth, inching its way toward her nipples.
“Relaaaax.” This time, the voice sounded like it was inside her head. Unable to speak, Ladybug shook her head, uttering a muffled protest as the tentacle stroking her curled gently around her left breast and started to massage her. Another tentacle came out of the dark to wrap around her right breast as the one in her mouth began to slide out. Just as Ladybug began to hope it would withdraw completely, it slid back in, rubbing against the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, the sides of her teeth, her tongue. Unable to do anything else, she swallowed the syrup in her mouth. Her skin tingled where the tentacles touched her. The warmth she felt grew in intensity until heat began to pound through her. She suddenly saw her suit in a different way, as a second skin so tight it left nothing to the imagination. She felt a flush creep over her cheeks and couldn’t determine if it was self-consciousness or a result of the senti-monsters ministrations.
The tendril in her mouth had taken up a kind of rhythm, despite Ladybug’s best efforts to spit it out. Every third stroke or so, the tendril inevitably met with her tongue, leaving a swath of syrup she eventually had no choice but to swallow. She focused on it instead of the thoughts that were beginning to swirl in her head, unbidden but unavoidable as the senti-monster caressed her breasts, teasing them in a way that had her instinctively leaning into their touch. What she was beginning to feel didn’t matter; it only meant the senti-monster wasn’t defective. What mattered was that it wasn’t real, and that, regardless, she had to escape and rescue the city.
Ladybug angled her head, biting down on the tendril again. In response, the tendril loosed so much saccharine syrup it leaked out the side of her mouth. She had to drink it down in order to keep breathing, and had to admit to herself she wasn’t as unhappy about that as she wanted to be. She moaned as it hit her system, partially in frustration, partially at the overwhelming sensations. If she no longer fought quite so hard to spit the tentacle out, well, she could ignore that, until it accidentally slid against her tongue in a way that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. The next time it slid between her lips, she hesitated and the tendril caressed her tongue again, flicking the tip as it receded. Desire crashed through her. The third time, the tentacle slid only partially in, as if waiting. Testing. Against her will but powerless to stop it, her tongue went to meet it, sliding along its underside in an exploratory sweep. The senti-monster squeezed her breasts as if in encouragement, and Ladybug groaned again. It felt good.
“Relaaaax.”
This time, when the senti-monster spoke, Ladybug felt her body responding to the command without conscious decision on her part. The stiffness left her muscles as her nipples peaked, pushing against the fabric of her suit. The tendrils curled around her breasts reached for them, stroking them in a way that had her wishing they could get under her suit altogether.
No! part of her shrieked as she helplessly curled her tongue around the tendril in her mouth again, hunting for that light sweetness that made her skin heat. No! This isn’t right! I have to free myself! I have to…!
One more, Ladybug promised herself as the tentacle around her waist began to slide against her body, sending shivers across her skin. One more time, and then she’d spit the tendril out. Except as she was about to open her mouth to let it drop, it pushed back in, and she found herself once again eagerly sucking it back. She wanted it, she realized. She wanted to keep sucking it, to keep drinking the syrup it seemed to secrete. She wanted it to coat her lips, to drip off her chin.
A drug, she dimly realized, far too late. It had undone her defences, stolen into her mind until the only word she knew was ‘yes’. Even knowing so, she welcomed the tendril in her mouth back for more. It had made her want it against her will, but the bottom line was the same: she wanted it.
Ladybug didn’t resist as the tentacles around her legs pulled them gently open. She couldn’t help a moan as the fourth tendril around her waist slid over her ass and between her legs. She writhed as the tendril pressed against her, seeming to find her most sensitive spot with ease.
“N-no,” Ladybug stammered as the tendril in her mouth finally slid free, it’s task accomplished. “Do - don’t.” It wasn’t that she wanted it to stop. Truthfully, it was all she could do to keep her hips from bucking against the friction. But she knew if it went any further, she would be lost. Maybe she already was.
“You do not truuuuly wish I would stop,” came the reply. The tentacle around her right breast flicked her peaked nipple, as if playfully reprimanding her for such an obvious lie. “You waaaant this. You love what I make you feel. Don’t you?”
Before she could reply, she felt the tendril between her legs shift, almost imperceptibly, a small test. Ladybug’s response was instant; she rolled her hips against the pressure, gasping at the sensation of both the thick tentacle and the friction of her suit. To her relief and despair, the tentacle began to rub against her in earnest, eliciting another moan of pleasure. Conscious thought fell away. All she could do was feel.
“I…I…” Ladybug gasped as the tip of yet another tentacle pushed against her entrance, gentle but inexorable, going a little deeper with each thrust. “It feels…so good…I can’t…”
Ladybug’s skin felt hot, so hot as the senti-monster continued to caress, massage, and stroke her. She wanted it. She wanted it badly. She wanted it more than she wanted anything.
And there was only one way to get it.
“Spots off!” she gasped. No sooner had the words left her mouth than did a tentacle slide back between her lips, as if sensing her surrender. Her head tipped back as it thrust in and out of her mouth, eyes slipping closed, and her suit, the obstacle that had kept the tendrils from taking full possession of her, vanished in a pink flash.
Marinette was vaguely aware of someone frantically calling her name, but as the thick syrup slid down her throat, it sounded further and further away. She felt the senti-monster pause around her as it assessed its new prisoner and its new obstacles. Without the friction, Marinette briefly remembered that she was in some kind of trouble, that there was something she needed to do, but as the senti-monster took its ministrations back up, the feeling slipped from her again before she had even begun to tense.
The senti-monster didn’t seem aware of its prize; it only seemed to delight in the fact that this fabric was much easier to manipulate. Marinette shivered as her purse and jacket slid from her body; the tentacles felt warm and sensual against the bare skin of her arms as they writhed, caressing her. The two wrapped around her breasts unwound, vanishing. Marinette had barely made a sound of protest when she felt them return, sliding against the bare skin of her waist. They twisted around her torso, pausing only when they encountered her bra. Moments later, she felt the garment come apart and drop away. The tendrils once again coiled around her breasts, massaging them, this time against bare skin. She felt them suck on her nipples, and leaned into their touch, panting beneath their attention. It felt better than she’d imagined it would, better than she had thought anything could feel.
Marinette felt something slip one shoe off, then the other. They dropped away into the dark, and if they struck the ground, she didn’t hear them. She didn’t care.
“Please,” she panted as the tentacle slid from her mouth to coil loosely around her neck. Her wish had been granted; its syrup dripped from her chin. The heady sweetness was all she could taste. “Please.”
She wasn’t sure what she was begging for. More? That it didn’t stop? She didn’t know. Only that she wanted to be touched everywhere, and that she whimpered gratefully when the tendrils obliged. Her pants were tugged off, discarded. She jerked as she felt tentacles glide over the soles of her feet, at first surprised, then drowning in the erotic sensation it elicited between her hips. They didn’t linger, but swirled once again around her legs, sliding sensually along her bare thighs until the tips came to rest at her hip bones. Every touch scorched her flushed skin. Heat pounded between her legs, blotting everything out.
Marinette bent her arms and the tendrils gave her slack to move. They both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. That she no longer wished to go anywhere. She pressed her palms against the tentacles massaging her breasts, caressing them in turn, panting with each stroke. The tentacles around her legs shifted again, sliding over her hips altogether and down the curve of her ass. Gravity shifted as her knees bent, her hips tilted up.
“You want this.” The voice came again as the tentacle at her neck began to glide slowly down her torso. Marinette arched at it slipped between her breasts, across her stomach, halting between her hip bones. The tip of it slid beneath the waistband of her panties and lightly tugged, eliciting a gasp. “Don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question. Marinette could tell that much, but she couldn’t stop her answer from bursting forth any more than she’d been able to resist its succour.
“Yes,” she panted as the tendril gave another tug on her underwear. She writhed, craving something to move against. “Yes, I want this. Please. Please. Make me feel good. I want to feel good.”
The tentacle reacted to her admission, gliding beneath the thin pink cotton of her panties. Marinette gasped as it slid against her, coating itself in her wetness and secreting some of its own. It was hot, from her own skin of because of something it generated, she couldn’t tell. That only made it better. She bucked her hips in time with the tentacle, moaning as she felt the heat in her stomach intensify. A second tendril pushed her underwear to the side.
“Yes!” The word was wrenched from Marinette as she felt the tentacle dip into her, shallowly at first, then deeper as she accommodated it. It felt better than she had imagined, better than what had only be hinted at before. “So good,” she moaned, squeezing the tendrils beneath her hands. She matched pace as the one between her legs plunged into her, twisting in ecstasy against its touch. Heat pulsed beneath her skin, more and more insistent. “I feel…so…so…hot…I’m going to…I’m going to…!”
Marinette screamed as she shattered. The tentacles continued to ride her as she did, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her before slowly coming to rest. She panted, reclining in their embrace. Some part of her had thought clarity might return when the senti-monster had achieved it’s task, but the thought was a flash in the dark, gone before she’d even truly recognized it, leaving her only distantly happy the tendrils remained coiled around her instead of vanishing into the darkness.
She’d barely caught her breath when the tentacles began to move again. Marinette jerked as the one buried in her began to slowly, lazily thrust and the other gently caressed her again. It applied enough pressure that it didn’t feel too sensitive, and waves of desire quickly inundated her. Still others slid against her breasts, teasing them back to points. Her skin tingled, but not in a way that was unpleasant.
“Yes.” The word was a whisper this time, drawn out by the tendrils gentle strokes, an answer to a question it knew it no longer needed to ask. “Yes.” The only word she knew. The only word she wanted to know. As long as they didn’t stop touching her. As long heat kept coiling in her belly. She felt a gentle tug on the shirt she still wore and obligingly lifted her arms. The tip of a tentacle came to rest on her mouth, and Marinette’s lips eagerly parted.
“Cataclysm!”
The shout had barely registered when light blinded Marinette. She screamed as the tendrils embracing her gave way, vanishing into thin air, and she fell the short distance to the ground.
“Marinette!”
Marinette pushed herself dizzily to her knees and beheld two of the most beautiful people she’d ever seen, a blonde haired boy with black cat ears, and a dark skinned girl who resembled a fox. She wanted to crawl to them, to lick her way up their legs, to claim their mouths. She wanted them to feel as good as she still felt. She wanted to keep feeling that good. She wanted to splinter apart and take them with her. She could show them what it was like. They would like it. She knew they would.
The fox girl - Alya, the name came from somewhere - hastily kneeled in front of her, blocking Marinette from her partner’s stunned gaze.
“Marinette,” Alya said, gripping her shoulders, “You’re ok now. Do you understand?”
But Marinette trembled under Alya’s touch, wishing the girl’s hand would slip down to her breasts. She knew her shirt did little to hide them. She reached up with one hand and slid it suggestively along Alya’s arm. “I’m more than ok,” Marinette murmured, leaning closer. “Let me show you.”
Alya leaned back, narrowly avoiding Marinette’s kiss.
“It got her bad,” Alya said. In one deft move, she swung Marinette jacket up and draped it around her shoulders. She withdrew, reaching up and tugging the studs from Marinette’s ears, disguising the movement as she stood. “Why don’t you take her home and recharge your kwami on the way back.”
“Taking her home isn’t going to improve things,” the boy - Chat Noir, Marinette recalled - protested, but something gave in his eyes.
“Ladybug and I can handle the rest,” Alya said. “Without the senti-monster, it’ll be cinch to take Zombiezou down. As soon as she’s back from capturing that amok, it’ll be over and I can return Marinette’s, um…things.” She nodded to the clothes and purse that remained heaped on the stones beside their owner.
“Fine,” Chat Noir said, stepping around Alya. “But I’ll be right back.”
Alya just shooed him, turning back to the square, and then Chat Noir was crouching down in front of her. Marinette shivered as his arms slid beneath her, the leather of his suit cold against her bare skin. Deja vu swept over her but receded just as fast when Chat Noir cradled her to his chest. Her arms wound around his shoulders, and then they were flying. At least, that was how it felt.
“I know you,” Marinette said as the warmth of his body seeped into her. She could feel his claws pricking her skin and wondered how it would feel to have those claws in her hair, gripping her waist, parting her thighs. She shuddered and Chat Noir pulled her closer, thinking her cold.
“Yes,” he said, and she struggled to recall the question. “You know me.”
“We’re friends,” Marinette suggested as her hand trailed down over his collarbone. She splayed her fingers against the skin tight fabric, so similar to the suit she’d been wearing earlier. She wanted to peel it off him, inch by inch, until he begged her to free him altogether, until he pleaded for the touch of skin on skin.
“Chat Noir is a friend to all Parisians,” he said with a guarded smile. “We’re almost home, Marinette. Just hang on.”
It was the concern in his face that finally reached something in her. It was like being splashed by cold water. The pounding warmth in her belly calmed and reality began to sink in. Her tousled shirt. Bare legs. The sticky sweet syrup, still on her face. What had happened to her? What had she done? What had she tried to do? What did she still want to do.
“Chat Noir,” Marinette managed, even as her right hand slid up into his hair, fingers tangling in the golden strands. “It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” She wanted to kiss him so badly - another shock that helped wake her up. She’d never wanted that before.
“I know,” he said with a puzzled grin. “But it’s ok. Rescuing damsels is part of the job. Besides, we’re here.”
Desire spiked through her as he jostled her, and Marinette could feel her moment of clarity slipping. Whatever had happened to her was still happening. It crept up on her like a fog until it was all she could feel, invisible and subtle in its influence. The pulsing heat intensified again, and she sighed at Chat Noir’s touch as he readjusted his grip. Marinette closed her eyes as she leaned in, burying her face in his shoulder. She fought the urge to press closer to him with every fibre of her being, but even as she waged war, she knew she was once again lost.
She felt the impact as they landed on her balcony, felt him begin to straighten, to release his hold on her. An urge seized her, and before the intent was fully formed, Marinette tilted her face, pressing a warm kiss to the bare, exposed column of Chat Noir’s throat.
“Marinette, what - ?!”
Chat Noir did release her then. She stumbled onto the balcony as he pressed a hand to his neck. He blinked, shook his head, but Marinette saw lust steal into his eyes when he looked at her.
“What did you do?”
“I kissed you,” she said simply, waiting. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long. “Didn’t you like it?”
“Yes,” Chat Noir said, but his eyes immediately widened, as if he hadn’t intended to say as much, even if it were true. “But you can’t. I can’t. It’s not right.”
She wondered if he was aware of the two halting steps he’d taken towards her. “But you want to.”
“It’s the magic,” he said with another step. “It’s making you feel this. We’ll fix it. I promise.”
“What if you can’t?” Marinette wondered, capturing one of his hands in hers and running the pad of her thumb across the sharp tips of his claws. “What if I don’t want you to?” Slowly, she lowered his hand to her hip. His claws were sharp enough to slash through the thin material of her underwear. She knew they were. And she knew by the way Chat Noir’s hand flexed against her skin, just barely snagging the fabric, that he knew they were, too.
“I have to go,” he pleaded, but his other hand came up to cup her face, one clawed thumb running along her cheekbone. “Ladybug needs me.”
“I need you,” Marinette whispered, tilting her face up to his as her fingers closed around the bell at his throat. “I’m burning for you. Please, Chat Noir. Please.”
The last of Chat Noir’s resistance evaporated at her begging. His mouth crashed to hers, head spinning at the sugary taste of her lips. Heat began to pound through his body, slowly at first, but faster as Marinette moaned against his mouth and pressed closer. He was painfully aware of her state of undress, at the ordeal she must have gone through, some of which he was just beginning to understand. He needed to stop. He had to stop. He didn’t think he could. His hand slid down from her face, over her neck, over her collarbone, and kept going.
Abruptly, a cloud of magical ladybugs swirled between them, sending them staggering apart.
“What -?” The cloud enveloped Chat Noir just as the last paw pad on his ring began to blink. The heat that had crawled through him evaporated, and when he looked to Marinette, he saw that she had clutched a blanket that had been on her balcony chair to her body. Her face was bright red, and she was regarding him with something like horror.
“What happened?” she demanded, pressing against her railing. “Chat Noir?”
A new kind of heat flooded Marinette, lighting every nerve on fire. What she had done…the way she had thrown herself at him…enchanted him. Without even consciously deciding to, she attempted to convince him she remembered none of it, even though she could still feel the shadow of his lips against hers, feel the burning trail his hand had left.
“The senti-monster had you,” Chat Noir said, leaping gracefully onto the railing, his back to her. He needed to collect himself, to appear calm even though his head still spun with the taste of her. If she didn’t remember, so much the better. He couldn’t imagine that her experience had been at all pleasant. The worst was over now. That was all that mattered. Best to put the entire incident out of his mind altogether. “You’re safe now.”
Chat Noir dropped from the balcony, just barely making it into a service room in the nearby subway before his transformation dissolved.
Adrien leaned against the cool wall of the maintenance room, trying to catch his breath. If Plagg experienced anything of the last ten minutes, the kwami was too busy chowing down a wedge of camembert to say anything. Or maybe he just didn’t care. It was a line of thought Adrien didn’t choose to pursue.
Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Marinette. Part of him wished he’d stayed to help her. Part of him was glad for the excuse to leave. Truthfully, he knew she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her the way he had, let alone one of her friends. He shook his head as he remembered his shock when she fell from the vanishing body of the senti-monster with so many others. It wasn’t like her to get caught up in the thick of it, especially when she wasn’t the target. What had happened? What had been the senti-monster’s function? He could guess.
“No,” Adrien said firmly, hands fisting at his side. “I’m forgetting this happened. Akumas and senti-monsters make people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. There’s nothing more to it. Plagg, claws out!”
Chat Noir made for the door, but paused when the light on his baton flashed, indicating a message. He lifted the baton to his ear, but was surprised when the message was from Rena Rouge, not Ladybug.
“Hey! It’s all over now, we’re done here. I hope you were able to get Marinette back without any more surprises.” There was a beat, and then Rena spoke again. “There was…a complication. We captured the akuma no problem, but Ladybug wasn’t able to capture the amok. It was too far gone by the time she arrived. Neither of us is sure what will happen next, but we know it won’t be good. Til next time.”
Chat Noir deleted the message and clipped his baton back to his waist. In that moment, he was sure of exactly two things:
One, that Rena Rouge was right - whatever happened next wouldn’t be good.
And two, that forgetting the events of the day would prove to be nearly impossible.