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The first few rays of sunlight filtering through his bedroom have T’Challa stirring and blinking away the drowsiness that resides from his slumber. The clock on his nightstand reveals to him it’s far too early to rise, and with a groan, he rolls over to wrap himself around — nothing. His bed is vacant.
Pushing the comforter down, T’Challa groggily rises and wipes the sleep from his eyes. As a giant yawn leaves his mouth, he arches and twists to stretch his limbs before swinging his legs over the side.
There’s a nice breeze filtering in through the open veranda doors that leads onto the room’s private balcony and carries in the chirping of the birds already out and about. He quickly shrugs on his satin robe, not bothering to fasten it closed before he makes his way onto the terrace.
He knew what he would find, but it still takes his breath away. It still doesn’t feel real that this is T'Challa's life now, that the gorgeous view in front of him is eternally his.
The Wakandan sunrise is a sight to behold, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the man watching it. Tony is leaning against the balcony's railing observing the multi-colored sky, but T’Challa has trouble dragging his eyes away from the red adorning him. It’s Tony’s color, loud and lively just like his personality.
His silk negligee is vivid against the olive skin it caresses, highlighting the lean muscle in his thighs and shoulders. The spaghetti straps hugging his shoulders meet in an elegant criss-cross, a stark contrast against the rest of the open-backed garment that keeps T’Challa’s eyes glued to the expanses of skin he can easily see.
He almost trips over his own two feet when his eyes travel further down, enticed by how the negligee ends just below the curve of his backside. It’s infuriating how an article of clothing can simultaneously bring peace because it conceals Tony’s assets from prying eyes, but also disdain when it blocks his view from Tony’s delicious behind.
“Are you going to join me or are you just going to keep staring at my ass?” Tony asks even as his eyes stay locked on the sunrise.
“I’m still deciding, my love,” T’Challa cheekily replies. When Tony looks over his shoulder with an affronted look, he can’t help the broad grin that spreads across his face as he closes the distance between them and molds his body against the back of Tony’s. His arms instinctively wrap around him as his chin rests atop Tony’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe you came out here with your robe wide open,” Tony chastises as he leans back into T’Challa’s space, trying to block him from any early wandering eyes. “What if someone saw you in all your...splendor?”
“I could say the same to you. If anyone was to observe you in this,” T’Challa replies, grabbing at the fabric draping sensually over Tony’s body and letting his fingertips rub over the silk, “I’m afraid I’d have to banish them.”
Tony snorts unabashedly and turns in T’Challa’s arms to face him, a sweet smile gracing his otherwise mischievous face. “And who says chivalry is dead?”
They are so close T’Challa can smell the coffee that lingers on his lips, which means Tony’s been up for some time, reminding him that he should be tucked in bed still with Tony beside him. “Why are you up so early, my love?”
At the question, Tony averts his eyes to where his hands are tracing patterns on T’Challa’s exposed chest. “I didn’t sleep very well,” Tony murmurs softly. They both know Tony means nightmares kept him awake and T’Challa knows it’s best not to push further. “And you?”
“I was sleeping just fine until I realized you were missing.”
“I don’t think being on our private terrace that can only be accessed from our bedroom counts as a disappearance, handsome. Besides, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
T’Challa leans in to Tony’s space, enjoying the way the light dances off of his garment, creating an ever-changing light show on his pristine skin. Tony’s eyes sparkle in the early morning light, matching the glow dusting his cheekbones. His hand comes up to cup Tony’s face, his thumb sweeping softly over his cheekbone while the other hand moves to settle on Tony’s waist. He’s painstakingly beautiful, and T’Challa has to kiss him.
At that moment, all T’Challa can see is Tony. He’s unaware of his surroundings, allowing it all to fall away to focus on his husband. He moves in until he’s inches from Tony’s lips. When Tony chews on his bottom lip, T’Challa looks up to observe him staring directly back at him. It’s the only invitation he requires.
The hand on Tony’s cheek hooks under his chin and tilts his head upwards, and T'Challa closes his eyes, tilting his head to meet his lips. His lips are delicate against T’Challa’s own and sweet from the heavily creamed coffee he devours every morning. T’Challa is slow and methodical in his devouring, wanting to savor every slide of their lips against one another until Tony nips at his bottom lip.
He pulls away, the hand on Tony’s waist keeping him still and not permitting him to follow. His face is flushed, and his now spit-slicked lips are parted, but T’Challa maintains the distance between them, fighting his own arousal that is slowly building within him. “Do not start something you cannot finish, my love,” he says.
“Or what?” Tony asks defiantly with his coy smirk.
“I will take you on this terrace so that everyone knows you are mine,” T’Challa warns before leaning in and whispering into Tony’s ear, “but something tells me you want everyone to know how you sound screaming my name and how hungry you are for my cock.”
Tony’s body shudders and T’Challa relishes in the fact that only he can do that to him, that his words alone can impact him so greatly.
“Well, are you going to deliver or am I going to have to find someone else, my king?”
The thought of anyone else putting their hands on his husband is maddening, and T’Challa growls. Tony has always been and still is, his only weakness, the one person that could bring him to his knees. Now is no different as he slowly slinks down Tony’s body, letting his hands caress each inch of him until his knees hit the terrace floor. He looks up and encounters Tony’s hungry gaze as he stares down at him and it’s far more satisfying than he expected.
His hand that is now on Tony’s thigh reaches behind, kneading the flesh before gently coaxing him to lift it, guiding his leg to rest over his shoulder. Tony leans the rest of his weight back against the railing, his hands gripping it tightly as he watches in fascination. T’Challa kisses his inner thigh, enjoying the warmth of his husband's skin against his face before working his way up until he reaches the hem of Tony’s satin negligee.
He allows his face to lightly skirt against the fabric obstructing him, nosing at Tony through the soft satin, before he lowers and buries his head beneath. The move brings him face to face with Tony’s cock and he groans loudly, unamused that his husband has been standing out here in practically nothing for all to witness what is meant for his eyes only.
He kisses the head, admiring the little twitch it gives in response. Smiling, he kisses it again, and again, and again, working his way down Tony’s semi-hard erection until he reaches the base. Veering south, T’Challa uses his tongue to lightly trace circles against Tony’s balls. Tony gasps above him and T’Challa smiles, continuing his gentle ministrations in between chaste kisses to the sensitive area.
Without removing his tongue, T’Challa gives a final swirl before tracing the skin back to Tony’s now hard cock, flattening his tongue and licking from the root to the tip in one go. At the head, he flicks into Tony’s slit, tasting the precome that has gathered. He hums at the familiar saltiness and goes in for another lick, hoping to find more.
When he’s gotten all there is, he takes the head into his mouth and gently sucks, never going further than teasing the tip. He varies between sucking and pulling off to trace his tongue around in a circular motion. When Tony’s hands grasp at his head hidden beneath the negligee, T’Challa knows he’s growing desperate and decides to give him what he desires.
He takes Tony in further, wrapping his lips around him so his mouth caresses the head and part of his shaft. Tony’s knee buckles slightly and T’Challa tightens his hold on his hip and thigh to steady him, never loosening the suction his lips apply. The rhythm he starts with is slow, letting himself savor the taste and musk of Tony as he slowly bobs his head up and down his cock.
When Tony seems steady on his feet, he adds a hand into the mix, placing it at the base of Tony’s dick and moving it in sync with his steady pace. The added simulation makes Tony's hips involuntarily thrust forward, seeking more pleasure and sliding him further into T’Challa’s mouth. He lets out an appreciative moan, the sound sending vibrations up Tony’s throbbing erection, causing him to bury himself even deeper in the velvety warmth.
Forcing his mouth to relax further, he removes his hand and swallows farther down, allowing himself to take more of Tony in. He quickens his tempo, moving in time with the soft pants Tony emits above him. The more he takes in and the faster he goes increases the impromptu snap of Tony’s hips as he struggles against his growing pleasure. Tony’s body is trembling in his hold, a sign that he is getting close, and T’Challa knows exactly how to send him over the edge.
He moves back until only the head of Tony’s cock remains in his mouth, sucking gently before diving back down and engulfing his entire length in one go, burying his face in the soft hair framing the base. Tony’s breath hitches as he takes him whole and the hands on T’Challa’s head tighten, wanting to restrain him there. T’Challa allows Tony to guide his head, lets him maneuver him until only the tip remains before pulling him back down until his dick hits the back of T’Challa’s throat, enjoying the small cries Tony lets loose each time.
His hand on Tony’s thigh drops so he can press his thumb into Tony’s perineum. Firmly, he massages the spot while he continuously deep throats his husband, feeling the minute twitches of his cock and the way his body begins to tense. All it takes is a few more bobs of his head before Tony is mumbling above him and T’Challa knows he is about to come apart.
“Close. I’m close, so fucking close—“ Tony’s verbal warning cuts off as his body goes taut and he finishes in T’Challa’s mouth.
T’Challa keeps sucking, slowing his pace enough to help Tony ride out his orgasm without causing him any discomfort. When Tony’s body goes slack and leans heavily on T’Challa with a muttered, “Fuck,” he pulls off Tony’s softening cock and kisses his thigh still perched over his shoulder. Leisurely, he withdraws his head from under Tony’s garment and shifts his leg down to the floor while T’Challa’s other hand wraps around his waist to support him.
When he stands, Tony instantly slumps against his chest, still breathing heavily. T’Challa chuckles, embracing his husband and resting his head atop Tony’s. The sun has fully risen while he was busy pleasuring Tony, meaning that the day is underway and soon the people of Wakanda will be up and about. He doesn’t relish the idea that anyone could pass by and see Tony in all his glory, so he uses the exhaustion brought on by his mouth against Tony and decides to urge him back to the bedroom.
“Come, let’s get you back to bed, my love,” T’Challa coaxes as he relinquishes his grip on his husband and grabs his hand to steer him to their bed.
But Tony shakes his head as one of his hands snakes between them and palms T’Challa’s painfully hard cock. “No, fuck me. Right here. Right now.”
The thought alone has T’Challa’s erection stirring. He is an undeniably possessive man, so who is he to squander the opportunity to fuck his husband unabashedly on their patio for all of Wakanda to see and hear? It’s surely one of the perks of being King.
“Then I suggest you bend over and hold on,” T’Challa murmurs into his ear as he spins Tony around to slump over the railing again.
“It would be my honor, your majesty,” Tony says as he braces himself and looks over his shoulder, pushing his ass back and wiggling his hips suggestively.
T’Challa molds himself against Tony’s backside and runs his hands up and down his flanks before his hands come back to fondle Tony’s pert rear. He’s far more desperate to bury himself within Tony than he wants to admit and silently prays to Bast that his husband is still loose from last night’s escapades.
He pulls one of Tony’s cheeks to the side and lets his other hand brush against his rim, keeping his touches feather-light. Tony feels tight, but T’Challa isn’t sure he can bring himself to push off of Tony and search for lube, so he does the next best thing. Bringing two fingers to Tony’s mouth, T’Challa orders him to suck. His husband responds beautifully, hollowing his cheeks and coating his fingers in saliva.
T’Challa reluctantly pulls out of Tony’s warm mouth when he feels his digits are sufficiently coated and brings his hand back to Tony’s entrance, letting his fingers circle the rim before he plunges in the first finger. Tony arches back into his touch enabling him to go deeper, and T’Challa moves methodically, focusing on stretching him and not hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves just yet. It isn’t long before he sinks a second finger in, scissoring to loosen Tony’s entrance.
“I’m ready, handsome. I need you.” Tony says as he pushes back on T’Challa’s fingers. “Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Just a little more, love.”
“Fuck, just take me,” Tony pleads, his voice more akin to a whine. “I need you to fill me up and come inside until it’s dripping out. Let everyone know I’m yours.”
It’s a terrible idea, truly. As King of Wakanda, T’Challa should hold himself to a higher standard than fucking his husband for all of his kingdom to see. But this imagery is igniting something in T’Challa he’s never experienced before. Even if it is universal knowledge that Tony is his husband, he can’t deny the heat pooling in his gut when he thinks about broadcasting their intimacy for all to see as he lays claim to Tony.
He pulls back enough to spit where his fingers are already working to ease the way for the third digit he now pushes in. Tony hisses as he does, no doubt feeling a slight burn without proper lubrication, but his hole eagerly clenches tightly around T’Challa’s fingers as if to lure him in. As a distraction to soothe any unease, he brushes against Tony’s prostate causing him to gasp.
Tony rolls his hips, hoping to seek out that sensation again, but T’Challa’s skillful hands only come in contact with the bundle of nerves when he intends them to. Every pass against that delicate area inside of Tony is deliberate, providing enough stimulation to ease any lingering stretch Tony might feel and giving his cock the time to fill out again without sending him over the edge too soon.
He looks irresistible like this, with his head lying atop his hands on the railing and body starting to glisten with a sheen of sweat as he bends over on display, showcasing his pretty hole clenched around T’Challa’s fingers. Tony’s panting, a heavenly sound that sends all of T’Challa’s blood south in anticipation.
Pulling his fingers out, T'Challa spits in his hand, mixing that with the precome leaking from his erection to slick his dick. Tony is whining at the emptiness and pushing his hips back to grind against T’Challa in desperation, and T’Challa lets his cock slide between his cheeks, teasingly rubbing the head back and forth over his entrance as he continues lubricating himself with an indecent amount of spit.
The tip catches on Tony’s rim, causing T’Challa and Tony to groan in unison. Unable to wait longer, he grips Tony’s hips and pushes the blunt head against his hole before beginning the long, tortuous slide inside his husband's tight heat. He wants to drive Tony wild, but the unbearably slow glide in is doing a number on him as well, evidenced by the hushed curses escaping his lips and the way his hands tighten on Tony’s hips.
T’Challa doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of admiring the way Tony’s rim stretches around his girth or the burning heat that envelopes his cock. He stills for a bit, relishing in the warm tightness that surrounds him when Tony’s impatience gets the better of him and he rolls his hips, burying T’Challa to the hilt within him, and whimpering as T’Challa’s fullness inside of him hits his prostate.
The movement spurs T’Challa into action. He pulls out slightly to leisurely slide his length back inside, maintaining an achingly slow pace so he can focus on Tony’s inner walls clenching down around him. His mind screams for him to move — to fuck Tony harder, fuck him faster until he’s a blubbering mess — but he also wants to savor this moment. There aren’t many quiet mornings as King and he would be remiss to hurry through a silent, sensual morning with his husband.
He allows Tony to take control, lets him move, grind back and fuck himself on T’Challa’s cock. Tony surges forward, pulling away and clenching purposefully on T’Challa’s throbbing dick, before sinking back and engulfing him completely, grinding his hips in a circular motion when T’Challa is as deep as he can conceivably be. It’s enticing, the way Tony moves so expertly as he chases his pleasure.
T’Challa leans forwards, plastering himself against Tony’s back and sliding his hands underneath the red garment and inching up his sides. His hand winds around to caress Tony’s nipple, enjoying the way his light touches cause it to pebble and Tony’s skin to goosebump. A single bead of sweat travels down Tony’s nape and T’Challa licks a hot, wet stripe up the back of his neck before placing a hasty kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, making Tony’s body shudder.
Propping his chin on Tony’s back, T’Challa looks out at the Wakandan landscape. The sun is much higher in the sky, the colors softening and barely there, signifying the day is beginning for many. In the distance, he can make out voices, like laughter carrying on the slight breeze. Before long, people will be out and about starting their days and they’ll gain an audience if they don’t hurry.
Unpeeling himself from Tony, T’Challa gathers him up and back against his bare chest with a hand on his throat and his other arm splayed across Tony’s chest. Tony continues to writhe as their position changes, his back arching beautifully to continue the ministrations while he is upright and his hands fly back to hold on to T’Challa’s waist. Unable to resist his body’s urges anymore, T’Challa snaps his hips forward to meet Tony’s hips as they sink back.
Tony’s body rocks forward in his hold as he loudly cries out and his hands scramble for a hold on T’Challa’s hips, digging his nails into the sensitive skin. T’Challa thrusts again and Tony’s hole spasms around him, his body trembling in his hold as he wails in unabashed pleasure again.
He moves faster, trading in his languid thrusting for sharp, quick penetrations that plunge him as deep as possible within his husband. The slap of skin on skin seems so loud in relation to the otherwise silent morning, that T’Challa almost fears that they may be discovered. That thought pushes from the forefront of his mind as his body pistons faster, deeper, as if turned on by the thought.
Tony is panting, releasing breathy pleads of yes and please with each powerful thrust and T’Challa joins in, his huffs blowing hot air across Tony’s neck where he cradles his head. The strap of Tony’s negligee slips down Tony’s shoulder and T’Challa pounces, his lips latching onto the exposed skin to leave a dark, visible mark. Seeing the blossoming love bite, he moves back towards Tony’s neck, leaving a trail of bruises littering his tanned skin in his wake.
His head lolls back onto T’Challa’s shoulder providing him more access to the column of his neck and arching his back even more, wantonly moaning as T’Challa’s cock nails his prostate with each jut of his hips. As he draws closer to his impending orgasm, Tony fists his erection in his hand and strokes himself in time with T’Challa’s thrusts. With both his cock and prostate being stimulated, he’s visibly torn between which sensation he wants to chase more and becomes overloaded with pleasure as his moans transform into obscenely raucous cries of euphoria.
Tony’s orgasm comes rapidly, keening loudly as he turns and buries his head into the crook of T’Challa’s neck, staining the negligee with his release. His body relaxes back against T’Challa’s chest and he can feel his husband become dead weight in his arms, mouth slack and eyes glazed.
T’Challa keeps his rhythm, fucking him through it, but the feeling of Tony’s muscles tightening around him and the lewd sounds he continues to make as T’Challa chases his own bliss has his hips stuttering. He bites down on Tony’s shoulder to muffle his groans as his body thrums with a buzzing energy right before he spills inside of Tony. His body practically melts against Tony’s, forcing him to lean heavily on the patio railing as T’Challa continues grinding against his ass, riding out the aftershocks.
They stay entwined on the terrace, T’Challa still nestled inside of Tony as he slowly softens and their sated bodies come down from the high. He peppers kisses against Tony’s cheek, trying to nuzzle impossibly closer to the man he loves more than anything else.
“It’s exquisite, isn’t it?” Tony asks as he gazes at the Wakandan countryside, now fully illuminated by the glaring sun.
T’Challa agrees, but his eyes never leave Tony as he gives his husband a little squeeze. “Yes, you are.”
“Compliments won’t get you anywhere, handsome,” Tony teases at T’Challa’s cheesiness.
“No?” T’Challa asks amusedly with a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “Not even back into bed?”
“Hmm, you drive a hard bargain,” Tony hums as his hands run up and down T’Challa’s arms that are still embracing him. “I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed to a lazy day. Or do you have somewhere to be?”
T’Challa places a chaste kiss on his husband's temple. “My only plan today is to be by your side, whatever that entails.”
Tony turns slightly in his arms to give him an incredulous stare. “Are you sick? Is there something in the air?” T’Challa quirks a brow at him and Tony shrugs. “You’re just unbelievably sappy today.”
“Perhaps it is a product of me still being within you,” T’Challa quips with a quick rut of his hips for emphasis that has Tony swatting at him playfully.
A throat clears below them and Tony startles in T’Challa’s hold. “Perhaps you two would like to move inside before others are present,” Okoye states dryly. “The palace workers will be arriving to work shortly.”
Tony squeaks and pushes T’Challa back so that his softened cock slips out, before spinning to face him, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Are they— Have they been here this entire time?” he asks in a hushed whisper.
“The Dora Milaje are always nearby, my love,” T’Challa replies with a salacious grin as he backs up and offers Tony space.
Tony’s arms fold in front of his chest then reach to pull the negligee down farther as if he’s torn between which part of himself he wants to shield more. The come trickling down his leg though destroys whatever innocence he’s trying to feign. He’s pulled from protecting his own decency when he sees T’Challa’s robe is still wide open. His body is still on show, and Tony darts forward to press himself against him and pull the garment together, bestowing him with a dirty look in the process.
“They did not watch,” T’Challa reassures. He cards his fingers through Tony’s hair before leaning down and whispering, ”But I’m certain you were heard,” into his ear, making Tony's body vibrate against him.
“Well, I hope they enjoyed the performance,” Tony huffs. “Maybe we should take the next act into the bedroom?”
Finally, T’Challa mentally applauds himself as he nods and slowly walks back to their bedroom with Tony still plastered to his front.
They barely manage a few steps before Okoye chastises them from somewhere below the terrace. “I think the Wakandans would find that most agreeable.” Tony tucks his head against T’Challa’s chest, the tips of his ears burning red in embarrassment. “Might I suggest you try it with the doors closed this time?”
“Oh my god,” Tony groans pitifully. “Make her stop.”
With a wicked grin in place, T’Challa helpfully reminds Tony, “Sorry, my love, but you wanted an audience.”
“Not Okoye! She’s going to gossip with Shuri and then I’ll never hear the end of this. You know how those two are together.”
T’Challa laughs, pulling Tony with him towards the door to their bedroom. “I’m confident they’ve heard much worse.”
Tony looks affronted at the thought as he stumbles to follow T’Challa. “Fucking hell. Can you put a bell on her or something? She’s a goddamn ninja.”
“Instead of improving my wardrobe, might I suggest increasing yours?” Okoye’s voice amusedly asks. “There is plenty of fabric available in Wakanda.”
Tony slams the veranda doors shut with a loud put upon sigh.