“Because.”

Damian didn’t react outwardly. But his eyes. Marinette had thought there could be no pools in them, but she hadn’t considered what happened to Excalibur after Arthur died. Madame Bustier would be so disappointed, they’d spent an entire week learning it for history and it was like it had never happened with how forgetful Marinette was! They’d even dedicated a discussion (which Adrien blew off and Marinette had to leave for an akuma attack, probably why she forgot) to the ending specifically. The ending where the sword returned to the Lady of the Lake, sunken in the tragedy of Arthur’s death and the promise of his return. Cast into the pool, into the mire. And the blades in Damian’s eyes were sinking away, the sharpness gone and rusted to nothing but devastation.

Because he couldn’t kiss her. Because she wasn’t going to let him kiss her.

Marinette bit her lip, her half statement hanging between them as he waited tersely for an explanation. As his eyes withered, the swords sinking deeper into the lake with each passing moment, the promised king fading on the bank from a mortal wound delivered by someone he thought he loved and trusted.

“You can’t kiss me, because I want to kiss you!”

No, she wasn’t going to let him kiss her. That’s not how this went. She was going to kiss him, because she wanted to be the one who initiated this.

Marinette said it all in a rush that left her breathless, her words punching out of her mouth in a frenzy that gave her the heady rush Arthur must have felt upon drawing the sword from the stone in the first place. And just like that, Damian’s eyes were drawn into naked, gleaming, steel that shined for her. And just like that, Marinette found herself crashing into his mouth as the same force that drew out her words surged forth and across her body into his and back between them in a torrent that somehow grew as it expended itself into the both of them.

Marinette hardly noticed.

She was preoccupied with the smell of him. Up this close it was the first thing that hit her, before the rest of him. He didn’t wear any kind of scent, so there was nothing masking him. And while the mild smell of his activity from their exertions across the room might have thrown her off if it were anyone else, here it simply meant that his presence was inescapable, not that Marinette wanted to escape it. No, she was completely immersed in Damian. From her nose to the rest of her.

Then her arm around the back of his neck sucked him in as she fell forward in desperation to destroy the space between them. It wasn’t large to begin with, but it still wasn’t gone fast enough. Not as her other arm swung around to tie him to her body like the fine stitching on her suddenly too-tight brassiere. The only space between them was from the waist down as she made herself flush against his body. The steady weight of his stomach against her stomach sent a shiver through her that swung her hips into his and one of her legs to lacing around his.

It left them a little unsteady, but really that might have been the fault of the fact that the rest of Marinette’s body vanished as her lips hit his lips like the tide. He was the beach, made for her to crash and flow over, steady as the shape of the sand and yet pliable to her every whim. The tide should have gone out after a moment, leaving the beach dry and forever changed until the next time it came in. Except she took him back out to sea with her, the low moan from her mouth coming out the side of her lips as she felt him try to reflexively surface for a gasp of air.

Marinette didn’t let him. Instead, one of her hands somehow ended up somewhere in his hair, pulling his head someplace down into her depths. He took his breath through her mouth, through her lips as a groan welled up from the back of his throat into a growl that sent tingles down her lungs and into the deepest trench in her ocean. And then he dove into her.

His hands drove her attention away from her mouth as he forcefully reminded the rest of her body it existed, seizing her hip and drawing her somehow closer than she already was to him. Then his fingers curled around to dig into places… beyond her hip and she could feel herself rising to meet him as a current formed between them. His other hand took control of her back, the insistent but terribly gentle scrape of his nails digging deep into the sandy floor of her ocean and exposing everything she’d buried. Marinette felt like she had been a wreck sunk to the ocean floor, covered in brine and barnacles, and now risen and restored by his steady hands, a polished and gleaming ship set forth for a new adventure.

No, she wasn’t sitting in some museum, restricted to eyes only. She was smashing through the waves with Damian driving her expertly through each one, steering her prow into the sunset gleaming across the whitecaps as she carried him through the endless battering the ocean gave on all sides. And Marinette wanted his hands on every piece of her hyperaware body, his fingers riveted to her by whatever force compelled her to reach out and bite his bottom lip with such absolute gentleness that when he leaned into her teeth it felt like he was inviting her to consume him until the only thing left were his hands dug into her body.

His fingers curled lower as she found herself pushing her hips deeper into his grasp, wanting to give him control over her motion, to feel what he would do with mastery over her body. His palm fit like a pocket sewn against her skin, his fingers splayed out in desperation as they took more of her. It drove her mouth back to his, her teeth abandoning his lip to eliminate the miniscule difference between them the motion had created. She felt him squeeze her closer, almost hoisting her hips up above his with one arm as he exerted himself into her mouth.

It made her gasp, air flowing from her lungs to his lungs in a river that spilt over the banks of her tongue and lapped at his. He took her gasp and dove deeper, driving into her body through her lips in a way that went straight through Marinette’s core, spearing her to the ground. Damian then cut away every bit of her resistance to his complete domination of the kiss, what he’d begun with his hands on her body methodically worked up to her mouth where once again every other piece of her fell away.

His teeth were like knives, slicing away her control until it was his lips that forced her to the razor’s edge. As Marinette’s knees grew weaker she could feel his tongue tasting and testing her, cutting onto the outside of her lips as he claimed the kiss and her for his own. He parted her bottom lip with his tongue, testing her with a series of whiplike lashes that drove her senseless, only relenting when Marinette let out a tiny whimper, fully submitting to his control of the motion. Then it was her upper lips turn as he drew it in gently, giving her the space to savor him on her, to revel as he rolled her across his lips and gently pressed his teeth onto her in a way that politely asserted who her mouth belonged to.

It wasn’t Marinette. Not anymore.

He didn’t bite, just held her still until the anticipation tore another desperate whimper from her. Then he sprung into motion, the raw blade of his mouth seizing her exhalation before it could escape her throat and making him her scabbard as she found a home in the vibrations coming off his deep-throated grunt. It was a percussive sound, the noise of steel hitting steel reverberating through her as he took every noise she made and consumed them along with the rest of her.

Her legs buckled lightly, causing her to dip for a moment and Damian to follow, diving down with her mouth into whatever disaster her inability to function caused. But his hands didn’t allow her to fall away, supporting her like she was designed to fall into them and controlling the descent as her body offered itself to him. He caught her first with his lower hand, it was already positioned to take her weight but now with the heft of her slim frame behind her it simply drove her hips to give him all responsibility. Her lone foot still touching the ground abdicated, turning his hand into her seat as she allowed him to hold her in his palm.

His other hand tore into her back, splaying out in a wide net that kept her chest still even as she descended with him. It drove her chest into his, squishing her almost painfully against the plateau of his breast and yet somehow also not close enough as she felt herself desperate to rub away even the tiniest bit of space. His fingers gave no room for room, however, pressing her tighter even as they dug into her muscles and somehow allowed them to go slack, eviscerating the stress and tension she carried in precise claw marks up and down the length of her.

Slowly rent by his fingers, Marinette felt her body relaxing into his, painting itself against him in long strokes that matched the pace of her lips as she languidly basked in his dive and granted him deeper access by fastening herself to the outsides of his lips. It gave him the inside track on her body as a whole, and he used it ruthlessly to keep diving, his tongue testing her as the pressure mounted. And part of her felt like the only way to drain that pressure was for some other kind of mounting to occur…

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Ah.

In the sense of…

Well…

Marinette couldn’t really muster up the anxiety to think of what she’d actually meant by that thought. Not while his hand on her back balled into an insistent fist, pulling her clothing tighter and running along the edges of her brassiere strap. The motion caught one of the hooks, letting it dig into her skin as she imagined what his fingernails might feel like if he stopped being gentle with her and simply took what she wanted him to have. His hand was working its way up her back, however agonizingly slowly, not stopping to help her tear open the hooks and break the dam building in her chest.

Instead she moaned in desperation, her voice rising to a begging whine as he left her clothing intact. Damian’s legs and hips reacted to her noise almost involuntarily. His knees buckled lightly, pushing her up his body as his hips jerked forward in a motion that almost knocked her off his hand. The only reason she didn’t fall was because she rose reflexively to meet him, her hips leveraging the rest of her body up and over his until his dive reversed and it was her mouth dragging him up to the surface. Not for air, there was no chance Marinette would be relinquishing control over his lips. No, she was simply giving him the chance to see her in all her glory as she broke the wave, breaching the surface, giving him the barest hint of space between their lips.

He chased her upward, Marinette teasingly drawing back until his lips were positioned under her. Then she harpooned him ruthlessly, fastening back onto his flesh and using his mouth like a handle to exert herself over the rest of him. Damian met the challenge with an eager surge, placing himself in her mouth. It sent waves through Marinette, each individual kiss she branded his lips with. His hand cupped under her scrabbled to accommodate them as they rolled through her body, ending in slow thrusts of her hips that hit his stomach.

Damian hoisted her higher in a swift motion that had Marinette feeling whiplash as it created unwelcome space between them and then eliminated it, giving her the chance to rest her weight on her elbows resting on his shoulders. She punished him for it with a small nibble and tilt of her head that gave their lips even more surface to contact. He punished her in turn by proving why giving him absolute control over their contact with the ground was a double edged sword. In a couple quick steps he had her back (once again) against the wall.

This time Marinette had no desire to escape.

The impact wasn’t gentle, but Damian didn’t slam her. He simply drove her into it, and then kept going. Marinette could feel herself writhing rhythmically, driving her hips down into him as he continued to force her upward. Her elbows, resting on his shoulders, gave her a platform to lazily wrap her arms around him, one hand rushing through the wave of his hair and pulling him to meet her as she rose with each pulse of the rhythm pounding between them. The other clawed down his back, trying to force him deeper into her mouth, into her.

His shirt, which she’d lamented for being a thin and flat fabric, was now an offending rag It sat between them, preventing her from reaching his skin. Marinette hissed, angry at the presence of it. Damian bit back at her hiss with a thrumming deep in his throat, nearly a self-satisfied purr that resonated through her. The edges of his lips turned upward in the hint of a self-certain smile that sent a flare of irritation through Marinette. It wasn’t fair for him to be gloating!

So she did the sensible thing and drew back from the kiss lightly, then ran her tongue across the outside of his lips in a long scroll that painted her saliva to his mouth. She left just the barest hint of space, so little that it didn’t even break the line of saliva connecting them, but she remained just out of reach. Torturing him until he understood who was kissing who. When he broke and tried to rise for a kiss she threw her head back against the wall, her eyes rolling upward as she denied him what he wanted. Her hips continued to move, forcing him to bury his face in her neck as he leveraged her against the hard surface. And then it was a contest of wills, because he put his mouth to work on her neck.

Marinette took in a deep, cold, breath of air. And then promptly lost it as his tongue went slowly up a vein, tracing from the nape of her neck to the edge of her jawbone. Her hand in his hair fisted, almost tearing him away so she could breathe, but rebelling against her and pushing him further in instead. Damian rewarded her with his teeth, wrapping them around her pulse and delicately scraping them along until a tiny piece of skin was caught between them, tingling with energy as he rolled it between his incisors. And then he bit down.

Marinette’s body was spasming against him, her hips not just rolling but thrusting as she found herself riding the tide of sheer lust that shuddered out of her neck. There was no rhythm to it, no steady waves, no order. Just a storm of wanting that consumed them both as Damian struggled to keep her pinned to the wall and she used her hand in his hair to force his head back and reasserted her position on his lips.

He’d earned his way back to her mouth.

Her other hand ran a set of clawlines up his back until she could anchor them in his shoulder, using his body as her berth to ride out the storm. She wasn’t planning on waiting for it to abate, no, she just didn’t want to lose control entirely to the hurricane of sensation whirling around them.

Their lips were the eye of the storm, as their bodies came undone in the torrent they remained locked together. And everything revolved around that meeting, the simple formation of swirling interconnectedness that swept Marinette into Damian and Damian into Marinette until she wasn’t quite sure where she began and he ended. It felt like her tongue was an extension of his, saliva running down them that might have come from his harshly panting mouth or her own needy moans.

Marinette couldn’t tell. She also didn’t care.

She just wanted to feel more as she explored her mouth, formerly Damian’s, running her tongue across his teeth and then gently brushing the roof of whoever’s mouth it was in a motion that caused him to jerk upward in happy surprise. A harsh exhalation of breath hit her lips, burning against the wetness coated on them and the swollen tenderness their actions had left. Marinette felt hot. Felt like she needed another cold blast of air, because somehow the room that had been comfortable just minutes ago was now like the Arctic waters against her skin in comparison to the steaming hot springs forming wherever Damian touched her. She reared up, heaving herself onto an iceberg of fresh air.

For a long second she felt centered, the sticky satisfaction of her mouth drying in the crisp air. Marinette’s throat began a hum that ended in a sudden glottal stop as his hand behind her back rose to her throat, setting the thumb like a mooring line at the place where the top of her ribcage met her neck and the rest of his fingers wrapping around her shoulder and up to the side of her neck. They were electric, lightning bolts hitting her surface and thundering through her body as he pulled her down to his body.

He didn’t take her to his lips. Instead he pulled her neck down until his lips were at her ear. Marinette buried her face in his shoulder as the heat of his breath sent a trill down her spine. It left her mouth hanging open as she felt his tongue flick at her earlobe.

His voice was resonant, rumbling in a low register like the sound of one glacier smashing into another as he whispered tauntingly, “Am I worth remembering now?”

Marinette caught the line of his jaw with her hand, drawing him closer so she could reply in a breathless voice, “Yes.” She could feel his mouth curl into a smile against her skin, causing her to do the same and reaffirm her position (on his memorability, of course). “Yes!”

And then she reaffirmed her position on him, because Marinette was the one doing the kissing and that meant she got to take the lead.

“Good.”

He tried to say something else, but his voice stopped in a sudden intake of breath as Marinette wound her way around his body until her mouth was at his ear. She felt like the snake in the Garden of Eden, whispering sins into him as her tongue went to work in a long stroke up his length.

At the apex she let a word shiver out of her mouth so he knew she was serious. “Very.”

“Mem,” her mouth began a slow descent, tumbling across him, “or,” her tongue dragged behind, almost touching the top of her teeth as she kept it pinned against him, “a,” as she reached the root of his ear she lazily dropped her tone too until the last syllable was deep in the back of her throat, “ble.”

And then it was Damian’s turn to spasm, his hips firing into her as he rocked and thrust reflexively. His fingers curled into claws, clinging to her body like oxygen in the depths, fighting to hold her down so he could inhale her. All the while Marinette floated above it, teasing him. She felt like an angler with just the right kind of bait sitting in a boat above clear waters watching her fish chase her lure. Except he’d already gotten her hook in his mouth, so now she just had to reel him in.

And that’s what her teeth and tongue were for.

She began by nibbling on his earlobe, flicking it with her tongue to remind him of what he’d done to her before moving in to assert herself. Marinette calmed him down with a series of licks, and then wound him back up by lightly blowing air to dry him off. She then worked him over with her teeth, mumbling indistinctly as she kept going until Damian’s hand on her neck lost control and slammed into the wall.

He shoved his shoulders forward, angling them into her body as he backed her head to the wall, bringing himself with it this time until his forehead was locked against it, using it as a brace to keep himself from falling any further into her. That was… unfortunate, because Marinette was doing her best to encourage him to do just that. And the way his fingers were tearing into the wall made it clear she was winning. They were scrabbling back and forth between a tight fist that left the impression of his nails embedded in his palms and splayed out fingers straining not to snap.

Slowly, playfully, Marinette drew a long line across his jaw and up to his ear canal, ending with a hum from the bottom of her lungs that vibrated through both of them. Damian’s mask was in shambles as he let out a whimper and ragged, “Please…”

Marinette smiled in satisfaction, throwing her head back as little as it could move against the wall, knowing she’d accomplished precisely what she’d decided to do. Break his mask, his aura of superiority, obviously. Oh and kiss him. Yes, she’d very much won this round of their lip-on-mouth-on-teeth-on-tongue battle royale. Even if she did end up involving uninvolved body parts (in her defense, he cheated first and turnabout is fair play).

And thinking of turning about, Marinette had the sudden image in her head of this exact position, her flush against the wall and Damian slowly losing control against her, with certain things turned around…

Her eyes landed on her phone screen as the mental picture began to become an animated show complete with an intro and theme song (working title: The Many, Many, Many Sextales of MDC and Boy-Toy), shocking her out of the vision.