A Masked Getaway

Chat Noir

The jet skiing had been a success—the fact that he clung to Ladybug like a limpet on a rock didn't dampen the time they spent out on the water. Of course, when they returned to the beach, the instructor, who wouldn't look out of place on the World's Strongest Man, had taken his sweet time removing her life jacket and hanging around. He asked her question after question about her time on the water, once again ignoring him and focusing all his attention on his Lady. He could have been dancing around in a hula skirt and the dude still would have avoided him like the plague. The one thing that ignited the butterflies in his stomach was the way Ladybug had come over and rested her head on his shoulder. She'd wrapped her arms around his, her fingers brushing his bicep as she cuddled in closer. She was most certainly staking her claim.

She'd told the instructor she needed to go with her boyfriend to the cabana to spend some time alone. The way she'd said it had sent every cell inside him jumping with pom poms in tiny miniskirts. He knew it was just part of the act, but he couldn't lie anymore—he was loving the act!

As she put the suncream on him, he couldn't deny the effect. Every touch, every stroke electrified him, placing him on high alert and with a primal need for more. It was a stupid idea, really, asking her to touch him in that way, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. Anything to feel her hands on his skin once again.

Growing closer to the cabana, he noticed two women standing there dressed in full resort uniform, two tables unfolded underneath the fabric canopy.

"You should grab a leaflet for a hot air balloon ride or something. I'm sure Anthoney could sort it in an hour," Chat Noir muttered out of the side of his mouth. If this was the sort of guest relations she got, they may as well try and use it.

Without another word, but with an abundance of quick glances, they'd managed to awkwardly turn away from each other and remove their clothing, arranging themselves on the tables underneath the thin sheet.

Just as he was about to settle himself down, Ladybug almost blew his mind by asking him to untie her knot–thank goodness this massage was face down. Hesitantly, he pulled on her strings, watching as they dragged across her skin and fell to the table. With a quick movement, she sent her top flying across the cabana and onto the bed.

Yep, he was impossibly glad he was face down.

"Is this a little strange?" Ladybug whispered.

He laughed. "A little."

They were naked, complete and utter starkers, lying next to each other with only towels to cover their modesty. But, as awkward as it was, he was also oddly at ease—relaxed. His hand was resting on hers, both placed on a small table in between them. A connection to help them relax, apparently.

The warm breeze coming from the sea wrapped around their skin, and covered them in unwanted sand grains. The soft whoosh of the waves made a serene soundtrack, and he couldn't help feeling more relaxed with every passing second. He needed this a lot more than he realised.

"So, do you paint your nails especially for work? Like, do you have weekly pedicures?"

Ladybug snorted and squeezed his hand. His masseuse shushed him. He remained quiet for a couple of minutes.

"I really like your sandals. They bring out the best in your pinky toe."

Ladybug's hand pulled from underneath his before she whacked the back of his hand heartily. "Just close your eyes, Minou. Relax. Just...relax."

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. It was so strange how something you wanted and needed desperately still seemed so out of reach, even when it was being handed to you on the plate.