Work Text:
A few rays of light stole through the few breaks in the window covers, bright spots in the dim room. One had found its way over Marinette's eyes. She was in a warm burrow of blankets even as the cool air of the room kept her from being over-warm. Comfortable. One of her hands rested under the embrace of the large, masculine hand of her bed mate. Long fingers curled around her own. The bed was home now. All mail would have to be forwarded here because she was never leaving it. Except that she had to pee.
Now to recall what had happened to her clothes. She spotted her camisole by the pile of his clothes on the floor. She gingerly disentangled her hand from his, careful not to wake him as she rolled from the bed. Cold. Cold air against naked flesh! Now she really had to pee, thank you, cold air. Marinette swept up her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head and snatched a pair of underwear from the top drawer as she hastened to the en suite. By the time she came back into the bedroom, she'd put on the pair of his boxer briefs she'd grabbed from the dresser.
He peered at her through the crack in his sleep-lazy lids and watched as she stretched her arms above her head, rolling onto the balls of her feet. The lace edging of the silk camisole rose up above her hips, a tantalizing strip of belly above the band of- those were not the blue, cotton panties she'd been wearing last night. His eyes traced the band over the curve of her lower abdomen. A low hum punctuated his appreciation of her hips and thighs wrapped in his most intimate garment. He extended a hand out from under the blankets toward her.
“I hope you don't mind too much. I couldn't find mine,” she admitted with a blush. Her fingers danced over his outstretched hand and into his mussed, platinum hair. He had begun to grey at the temples, but it was difficult to discern from the rest of his pale locks. The tips of his fingers teased the hem at her thigh when she was close enough.
“I mind very much,” he growled, suddenly grabbing and pulling her on to the bed, rolling and trapping her beneath him and the duvet.
Marinette yelped with the unexpectedness. She felt like the filling of a rolled pastry with a topping of long, lean man. Giggles filled the room as he kissed her face.
“It's criminal.” A kiss. “In fact,” he said, placing another kiss on her nose, “I think-” kissing her other cheek- “I'm placing you-” a kiss at the corner of her mouth even as she preemptively groaned at what he would say next- “under Agreste.” He couldn't help himself. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and snickered.
“Nooo, Gabriel, whyyyyy?” she whined. His snicker was turning to a full laugh at her annoyance.
He lifted his head, tenderly taking her lips in his and then leaning his forehead against hers: “Did you think I would let you get away with theft, mademoiselle? You weren't content to have my heart, but you had to have my underwear too? Tsk, tsk. So greedy, my dear.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she intoned. “I have only ever taken what was mine.”
He laughed again and kissed her forehead. “So you have.”