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M’Baku was a nuisance.
T’Challa had reservations about allowing him to be a part of the council, but it had been the right thing to do. T’Challa was determined to fix the mistakes brought about by the kings before him. The Jabari had been lost to them for so long. Inviting M’Baku into the fold had been the first step towards closing the rift between their people so, it was necessary.
Even if it meant T’Challa had to put up with M’Baku sucking his teeth whenever T’Challa spoke of diplomatic relations. Even if M’Baku muttered under his breath whenever T’Challa spoke of sending peace voyages to Atlantis. Even if M’Baku spent the majority of their meetings eying T’Challa with that hungry stare of his. Even if T’Challa found himself warm under the collar and struggling to focus beneath the weight of it.
It was a necessary evil, even if M’Baku decided their first annual unity gala would be better spent sneaking off to the flower garden. T’Challa cursed and rose from his seat at the front table, tossing his napkin down. Shuri looked to him in concern, Ramonda with a knowing look she then turned on Okoye. T’Challa made it through the glass doors to the balcony, muttering an excuse about needing the restroom. Then he jumped the railing and slid down the slope, a few branches snagging his tunic.
He nearly stumbled to the ground on unsteady feet, when he slammed into a wall. Or, rather, a very large man.
M’Baku was warm and firm against him, his smile bright and mischievous. There was a halo of light behind his head from the lanterns above them and buried in the trees. His arms were large and strong around T’Challa’s waist, his voice rumbling through him as he spoke.
“What a nice night we are having, my king.” He grinned at the sweeping trees above them, his voice lowering with amusement. “I found the strangest cat wandering around in the forest.”
T’Challa shoved away from him, fixing his tunic with a glare. “you’re meant to be up there, M’Baku. You are giving a speech.”
M’Baku shrugged, studying the night sky, the mesh of violet and indigo quite a sight. There was a smile in the corner of his mouth; there always was, it seemed. “What a shame. Someone will have to go in my stead.”
“We’re supposed to be uniting our territories,” T’Challa chided.
“So, unite them. I don’t see why I have to stand there speaking of – of,” he waved his hand, his words almost too quick to follow, “’diplomacy’ and ‘treaties’ and ‘building bridges’ when I don’t believe in it.”
T’Challa froze, his chest tightening. “What do you mean?”
“We fought one battle together.
Your
fight. We came to your aid. Now, you might mistake your warm feelings towards us as burying the hatchet. I think of it more as postponing another war.” He propped his hand up on a nearby tree and scratched at his brow. His gaze seemed so far away, his voice almost wistful. “There will come a time when you will suggest something in the interest of forming a bond with the people you work with in the states or with the people below us and I will say ‘no’.”
He looked to T’Challa, his voice certain. “And you will think long and hard about how much the Jabari mean to you.”
“If you believe that, why bother? Why come to meetings, teach our children your traditions, why come here tonight?” T’Challa asked, looking to M’Baku imploringly.
Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to enter the council room and not see M’Baku towering over everyone else, that curve to his lips that said he found everything amusing, even when there was nothing to laugh about. He couldn’t imagine looking around when everything seemed too heavy, when the walls were folding in and he wanted to ask his father how he’d ever done this without losing himself. He couldn’t imagine not looking across and seeing M’Baku studying his nails, rather uninterested, and feeling himself calm.
“Because you believe it,” M’Baku said rather simply, holding T’Challa’s gaze. “I took a chance on you, tiny king.”
T’Challa’s breath caught, studying M’Baku’s face intently.
Between one breath and the next, T’Challa shoved into him, pushing him against the nearest tree and slamming their mouths together. M’Baku opened for him in a gasp, his hands rising up and curling into useless fists for a moment before he realized this wasn’t an attack. Then he took hold of T’Challa’s waist, slipping his tongue in T’Challa’s mouth and pulling him close.
With a soft groan, T’Challa pushed M’Baku further into the tree, earning a hard suck on his tongue and a tighter hold on his hips. M’Baku’s hands slid beneath his tunic, sliding over his bare skin and sending shivers down T’Challa’s spine. He rolled his hips forward, his cock half hard and demanding. M’Baku was everywhere, his hands greedy and eager beneath the smooth silk of his shirt, his scent engulfing T’Challa, the sounds of his hushed breaths blocking out the party above, the light chill of the night air.
M’Baku was so hard to ignore; so hard to push away. His face was so expressive; T’Challa knew when he was entertained, doubtful, and annoyed. He knew when he was impressed, as much as he refused to show it. And T’Challa tried to earn that look. He tried really hard. M’Baku was unlike anyone T’Challa had ever met and he’d come to enjoy having him around; as much as he would refuse to admit that.
Having all of that attention focused on him, even just for a night, just for one stolen moment hidden in the trees… it was
overwhelming
.
And that was why he let M’Baku slide his tunic up and over his head, setting it down before their mouths joined once more. The heat coiling in T’Challa’s belly drew his hands to M’Baku’s shirt, tugging at the hem until M’Baku got the point and followed suit, setting it down on the grass. M’Baku pulled him up, letting T’Challa’s legs wrap around his waist before he turned, pressing T’Challa’s back to the cool surface of the nearby fence.
T’Challa shuddered, rolling his hard cock into M’Baku’s belly. M’Baku nosed in and sucked at his neck, thumbing over a hard nipple. T’Challa groaned, his head falling back as M’Baku rocked against him, his bulge pressed against T’Challa’s ass. The smooth roll of M’Baku’s hips, the soft moans he let out – T’Challa could only imagine what this would feel like naked.
He could only imagine what this would look like should someone go for a stroll through the garden and find them.
Cursing, T’Challa pulled back, pushing at M’Baku’s shoulder. He came up, his eyes dark with hunger. T’Challa’s stomach clenched, the heat burning through him. “What is it, tiny king?” M’Baku rasped, his cock pulsing insistently against T’Challa’s ass.
Swallowing, T’Challa forced himself to scan the area around them. “We could be caught. They’re expecting us back any second.” M’Baku stared at him plainly. “It’s improper.”
M’Baku gripped his ass firmly, pulling him closer. T’Challa’s hips bucked in response, his cock wet and pressed against M’Baku’s front. “You want this,” he said plainly.
It wasn’t a question but T’Challa found himself nodding regardless. “Then why do you care?”
M’Baku asked, nosing in and kissing a sensitive spot behind T’Challa’s ear. His lips brushed the soft shell, leaving a brushfire in their wake.
“Call it whatever you need to. Diplomacy.” He rolled his hips forward, thumbing firmly over a hard nipple. “Peace making.” He dipped his thumb into the waistband and tugged T’Challa’s pants down.
T’Challa’s legs dropped down as he stepped out of his pants, his chest burning and pressed against the fence. He shivered, waiting as M’Baku gripped him possessively and spread him open, a slick finger circling his entrance. T’Challa’s stomach tightening in anticipation, his palms flat against the wall as the finger played with him for a moment, only succeeding in ratcheting up his impatience.
Finally, he cursed, resting his forehead against the wall and pushing into M’Baku’s hand. “Get on with it.”
“I’ve run out of words… my king,” M’Baku added sardonically.
As T’Challa started to snark back, his finger dipped inside, drawing out a gasp. M’Baku laughed, leaning in closer, his heat melting into T’Challa’s body. He stroked him carefully, gentler than T’Challa thought possible for him. His thumb massaged T’Challa’s rim, his finger pushing in and curling before he withdrew and set an easy pace. He slipped in another when T’Challa was ready.
His voice deeper than before as he rasped, “Making political concessions.”
His fingers plunged in deep, a soft moan escaping, the silky weight of his cock sliding along T’Challa’s cheek. He hid a smile as M’Baku held him still and pumped his fingers inside. T’Challa rest his cheek against the wall, clamping down on the digits as they withdrew. M’Baku’s breath caught, his cock pulsing wetly before he continued on.
“Discussing treaties.” He slipped a third finger inside, breath quickening as T’Challa took them eagerly, even pushing back into M’Baku’s hand. “Bast,” he murmured. “You’re an eager one, my king.”
T’Challa’s skin warmed even further, feeling overwrought as he rolled his hips back in time with M’Baku’s thrusts. A clever curl of his fingers brought a sharp twist in his stomach, stars going off before his eyes. “Get on with it, M’Baku. We haven’t much time.”
M’Baku laughed breathily, the sound making something warm curl up and settle in T’Challa’s chest. M’Baku palmed his belly and pressed the blunt head of his cock against his slick entrance, the weight of it making T’Challa’s cock jerk eagerly. Even larger than T’Challa expected, the stretch burned quite a bit, preparation aside. M’Baku pet his stomach soothingly, going slow, so slowly it nearly drove T’Challa crazy. It was a gradual spread of warmth, M’Baku’s scent, his heat, the feel of him slowly filling him to the brim. It was nearly too much and his eyes fell closed, the night falling away as M’Baku buried himself inside.
When he stopped, T’Challa felt his hand tighten over his belly, felt him press down curiously and stifle a curse. T’Challa followed the motion dazedly, watching as M’Baku withdrew slowly and pushed in deep, the slight bulge in his belly. Realization hit and T’Challa’s head fell back, shuddering hard as he took hold of himself. Two quick strokes were all it took before he came, clamping down around M’Baku’s length and painting the wall in thick ropes of come.
M’Baku gasped, panting into T’Challa’s neck as he snapped his hips forward, the sound loud in the quiet of the forest. Even spent, T’Challa felt his cock jerk, eager to feel M’Baku come inside of him. He moved in time with M’Baku’s hips, gasping when his cock brushed that spot deep inside. M’Baku held him tight, his cock pulsing, wonderfully thick and sliding in deep as though it was made for T’Challa.
A rough thrust startled a moan T’Challa couldn’t stifle in time, the sound making M’Baku stiffen and bury himself deep inside. He came in thick, hard pulses, his breath hot and wet on T’Challa’s neck. He stroked the bulge in T’Challa’s stomach, gasping with every pulse of his release. T’Challa’s eyes rolled back, rolling back to take more, every inch, every last drop.
M’Baku groaned, a few drops of his release escaping and dripping down T’Challa’s thighs. He smiled, T’Challa could feel it against the back of his neck.
“What is it?” T’Challa asked tiredly, feeling M’Baku resume stroking his abdomen. His cheeks warmed and he feared he’d never be able to look at M’Baku without thinking of this. Without remembering how it felt to have him nestled so deeply inside his body.
“Nothing, nothing,” M’Baku murmured, pressing down on the bulge as his cock released another spurt inside. T’Challa shuddered, eyes closed as M’Baku left a line of kisses down his throat. “I’m just thinking about how you’ll have to get dressed in your fancy formal wear with my come dripping out of you.”
T’Challa’s eyes opened with a start, a strange sense of panic cutting through the sated happiness coursing through him. The gala! He was meant to give a speech!
“We have to go.” M’Baku hummed, rather unconcerned. “M’Baku, I have to get back.”
“I think you’ll find that you don’t, my king.”
“What does that mean?”
M’Baku’s lips brushed his ear and damn him for how easily that settled some of his nerves. “It means you weren’t exactly quiet and your people take very good care of their king.”
T’Challa froze.
Don’t say it. Please don’t say it
.
“The Dora are very capable. I’m sure they came up with a believable excuse.”
T’Challa’s head fell back, insides twisting in embarrassment. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
M’Baku shrugged, kissing his cheek. “Tell them you were securing political alliances.” He took hold of T’Challa’s length, his breath quickening. “We’re celebrating the unions of our people. I’d say you succeeded.”
T’Challa could hear the smile in his voice. Bast help him… he liked it.