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It was three in the morning when Marinette's quiet footsteps echoed through the sleeping house.
The night – dark and deaf, calm, and soothing – was a strange relief. It was a feeling when you do not even realize you need it. Like a breath that, after many years of being shallow and fast, has finally turned deep and intoxicating.
That is what Marinette felt – as if she could finally breathe.
It was dark in the kitchen, and the only source of light was the bright moonlight. She did not light the lamps but drifted in the dark. She reached for a glass and poured water from the jug. She was impressed with her ability to control her movements. Even though she was sleepy and saw little, she had not tripped over anything yet.
Marinette closed her eyes, leaned back against the counter, and took a sip of the cool water. The seaside breeze that penetrated the tilted window gently ruffled her tangled hair. She smiled over her glass as the memories returned. Pretty fresh memories.
A week ago, she and Adrien said the sacramental yes to each other, thus beginning a new stage in their life together. Now they were in a cabin by the sea, enjoying each other's company, the beautiful views, the delicious food, and the hours spent in bed.
Marinette did not think that marriage would change anything in their relationship. She knew it would connect them even more - but she had not expected any major changes.
She was wrong.
Being married to Adrien was more than just the next step in their relationship or a teenage dream come true. It was a privilege and an honor to be his wife - the greatest man in the world. The ring she wore on her left hand was not ordinary jewelry, but a symbol that she belonged to him. And he to her.
She could die for this vision.
All the stress related to the preparations for the great wedding celebration only evaporated when they entered their temporary home. Wooden thresholds, door frames, a cozy bedroom and a sea view were a material reward for them for enduring painful pressure.
The wedding was beautiful - the one they both dreamed of – but to be together, just the two of us, away from prying eyes, crowds of reporters or families, was the fulfillment of all their desires.
Their first night here was unforgettable. Marinette's cheeks flushed intensely as she remembered her husband's touch on her body. She remembered every kiss, every brush of his hand or mouth. Adrien was a romantic, so it should come as no surprise that he was also like that in bed.
She was glad they had managed to wait until their wedding night. Perhaps they were old-fashioned, but they did not regret it. Over the years of being a normal couple, they did not need proof of their feelings. They both knew they were a perfect fit in every way, even the smallest.
Such was the fate of soul mates - they complemented each other, creating a neat whole.
Her thoughts and floating memories were interrupted by a gentle knock on the wooden doorframe.
“Mari?”
Marinette opened her eyes and turned her head towards the entrance to the kitchen where Adrien was standing. The moonlight illuminated his naked chest, shapely neck, and handsome, so young face in an unusual way. His lips were chapped, which was tangible evidence of their previous passionate kisses. He stepped in front of her and reached up to cup her cheek.
Marinette smiled warmly, set her glass down, and nestled into his soft hand.
“Why are not you sleeping? Did something happen?” he asked worriedly, studying her face carefully.
“I was thirsty,” she explained shortly. “Sorry to wake you up.”
“All right, love.” Adrien kissed her forehead. “Let's bring water to the bedroom.”
Marinette purred and closed her eyes as he pulled her against his bare chest.
“I love it when you call me like that,” she said softly.
Adrien smiled fondly.
“You mean love?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and he began to rock them gently.
“You are my love, and I will call you that for the rest of my days. As long as I can speak.”
Marinette sensed the bold certainty in the tone of his voice. She knew her husband would keep his promise.
Adrien's hands fell on her hips. He steered it in a slow dance that began and ended with gentle rocking. Her bare feet touched his. Marinette laughed at her clumsiness and total lack of talent for dancing as she almost fell into his arms.
Adrien always held her. It has been its support and foundation for years.
They could swing like this endlessly. She snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He held her tightly, with his chin resting on her head.
They danced in the kitchen in the middle of the night, and it was amazing for them.
They both knew they would remember this night for the rest of their lives. It was one of those memories that would be remembered forever without a photo or other capture.
“When the night has come. And the land is dark. And the moon will be the only light we will see. No, I will not be afraid. No, I will not be afraid,” he murmured in her ear as she threw her arms around his neck. “Just as long as you stand. Stand by me.”
Marinette closed her eyes, feeling tears welling up under her lids. She was so happy – she only came for water and her husband turned that night into a real dream in which she could move.
“So darling, darling,” he sang melodiously and turned her so that her back was against his chest. “Stand by me. Oh, stand by me.”
It was the old song that was played last at their wedding. There was no one left - just them, a scratched dance floor, a mess on the tables and balloons and confetti scattered everywhere. The hall was empty, and they danced as they do now. Immersed in their embrace and blissful presence.
“If the sky that we look upon. Should tumble and fall. Or the mountains should crumble to the sea. I will not cry; I will not cry. No, I will not shed a tear. Just as long as you stand. Stand by me,” he is singing and rocking their bodies.
The shoulder strap of her nightgown fell off as Adrien started kissing her skin. She leaned back harder to allow him access to his pale neck. His lips traveled over her flesh, he tasted her behind her ear, caressed her cheek. After a long caress, he placed two fingers on her chin and lifted her head so he could bring his lips closer to hers.
“So darling, darling,” he whispered, “stand by me. Oh, stand by me,”* he repeated, and without waiting for her answer, he pressed their lips into a sweet kiss.
Kissing in this position was made easier by the fact that she was much shorter than him. But her nose touched his chin. It was funny for Marinette, so she smiled like a fool.
“I cannot kiss you when you laugh, Mari. We have been through it,” he complained, but she laughed louder and released her grip.
“You're so sweet,” she murmured and hugged him again. Normal this time, face to face. Adrien did not protest and gently pulled her body against his. “I love when you sing. You have a beautiful voice, Adrien,” she cupped his cheeks in her hands.
There was a gleam of pure pride and admiration for his lover in his green eyes.
“I can sing to you more often.”
“I will be delighted.”
“I can do a lot of things for you, Marinette.”
The woman frowned, guessing what he meant. The gleam in his eyes and the lowered tone of his voice diverted her thoughts to a different path. Pleasant warmth poured over her immediately.
“Adrien, it's the middle of the night and we should sleep,” she said reasonably, but she knew it was for nothing. She wanted what he suggested.
“Are there any rules for our honeymoon?” he asked rhetorically and raised an eyebrow suggestively. His hands slid down her back, lower and lower until they were on her buttocks and then on her thighs. Adrien picked it up easily and set it on the counter she had behind her.
“No, not one,” she shook her head.
Her husband stepped between her legs and put his hands on her bare thighs. The nightdress she was wearing was not very effective as the fabric was rolled up to reveal most of her body. Adrien looked at her with adoration and passion in his eyes. He did not suppress his low groan as he saw her nipples sticking out of the fabric of her shirt. He was glad to see it, knowing full well that he was going to take off her clothes.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands over her thighs and hips.
Marinette was really beautiful – her delicate, extraordinary beauty, a mixture of milky skin, inky hair, and blue eyes, robbed him of most of his ability to think rationally. He wanted to kiss every place on her body. He wanted to caress her until sunrise.
“Adrien...” she moaned as he took the end of her shirt in his fingers, wanting to undress her.
“Let me take care of you, love,” he pleaded without taking his eyes from her eyes, glistening with desire.
“Do it, husband,” she agreed without hesitating.
This short sentence sparked a cascade of events and deeds. Adrien's hands were touching her smooth skin as he gently removed her shirt. His fingers touched her tiny arms. He stroked her collarbones and stomach.
Moments later, the shirt dropped completely, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders.