#Ulysses klaue smut

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 3: Now When I Look In Your Eyes

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 9.4K Chapters: 3/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: You manage to distract yourself for long enough to make through the rest of the day, but when Klaue finally returns to you he still makes you wait, surprising you with something unexpected before finally making good on his promise.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Teasing, Smut, Dirty Talk, Reference to Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Nipple Play, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Begging, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (F), PIV Sex, Cock Riding, Cream Pie, Praise Kink, Needy Dom, Very Brief Fingering, Cum Eating, Porn With Plot, Reader is In It Now Kids, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

Author's Note: Hello, friends, and welcome back! When I tell you I'm very glad I split up this chapter - this was essentially supposed to be a chapter "prologue" of maybe 2k, and then, well, *gestures broadly*. Klaue wants what he wants, what can I say. 😏

The next chapter is going to be an undertaking (gala!), and I can't really give a timeline at this point, but it's at least outlined and in the meantime you can read their little holiday interlude (which I accidentally wrote first, lol) and it'll now be in order! ☺️

As always, thank you for reading and for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! 💕

✨ Read on AO3 ✨

Chapter title is from "Come Alive" by Cannons

Now that you're by my side I get this feeling, get this feeling Like I'm hypnotized Now when I see your eyes I get this feeling, get this feeling I just come alive And I've been dreaming of you Do you dream of me too?

Through every ounce of will you can summon you somehow manage to last.

After stopping by your room to quickly wash and change, you realize once you get back to the industrial sector that there’s not enough of your shift left to justify starting on any new projects, so instead you occupy yourself with busy work - finally putting away your station that was left in disarray after the tense altercation earlier, and getting rid of everyone’s scrap that's been piling up in the workspace.

Then you trudge through a layer of fresh snow to finally finish the inventory that you’d attempted to start two days ago before everything had gone to shit.

Even as you try to focus on the tedium of the various tasks you inevitably find yourself turning over Klaue’s request - his command - in your mind.

Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have done more than think about it, having really just been wanting to tease him (which you’re starting to enjoy doing, perhaps a little too much), but on top of the natural frustration from being interrupted, then being told that you couldn’t? 

He'd managed to find a way to drive you mad even when he was nowhere near you.

Waves of heat roll through you as you make entries in the log, and every time you move you’re growing increasingly aware of the slick sensation between your thighs, a reminder that you’re already making a mess of your fresh panties.

And, so? What do you want?

Besides whatever he’ll give you.

Besides everything.

A thick index finger slowly sinking into you, dragging and curling while his thumb rubs your throbbing clit until you’re shaking.

Another tick on your paperwork and you circle the total a little more aggressively than necessary, leaving a little tear in the paper, ink marking the page beneath.

Locking up the first cage you move on to the next, feeling as though plumes of steam should be visibly rolling off of you, and eyeing a snowdrift you wonder if it would draw too much attention if you just lay down on it face first. It seems like the only thing that might actually cool you off right now as the overlap of memory and anticipation has an aching heat wrapping around your hips and flowing outward from deep in your belly.

His thigh pressed against your sex, but now you're bare for him, the hair on his leg dark with your arousal as strong muscles flex beneath you, and this time you rut against him for as long as you want.

And he's the first man who's made it feel like it’s alright for you to want. Unafraid of your desire Klaue instead seeks it out, coaxing you to surrender to it, pushing you to admit that it’s yours until you can't help but take and then, oh, the satisfied darkness in his eyes when you do.

As you continue to work you wonder if maybe he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Does it make him hard to think about you while he deals with his men and speaks to important figures? Is he shifting and adjusting himself at the thought of how needy you must be but forced to deny yourself?

Or is he calm, knowing that even now there’s a way that every thought is tethered to him, not thousands of miles away but right here in the same building, waiting.

The idea of him being distracted pleases you, but certainly does nothing to help the throb in your core. You think about how easy it would have been to find a release when you’d stopped by your room, and now you're growing so distracted that you’re tempted to go back or to slip away into a washroom. It would be quick with how worked up you are and then maybe you’d be able to actually concentrate.

After all, how would he know if you did?

And yet a part of you knows that it wouldn’t be satisfying, not really. That same part that connects to the tugging desire to be good, that wants him to be pleased that you’ve obeyed.

So you shake your head and fall back on a trick you use to help curb your emotions when you’ve had to deal with shitty people throughout your career, starting to rhyme off words in your head - glow, tomorrow, elbow, tempo, Orinoco Flow. Gradually your mind begins to calm a bit, and after several slow breaths the ache ebbs enough that you’re able to focus back on the tanks and the clipboard in your hand.

Once you settle into a rhythm you manage to finish the inventory pretty quickly, even if can’t completely stop your mind from spinning a little, and as you lock everything up and head back to drop off the paperwork with Tom, you finally have to admit to yourself that you knew what your answer was going to be as soon as Klaue told you to decide.

Several hours later the sun has fully set when you open your door to the welcome sight of Klaue standing in the hallway.

You want to reach out for him, to grab his shirt and pull him to you, but for now you simply watch as he walks in and slowly shuts the door behind him and turns to face you.

“Did you have enough water?” 

You can’t help but huff a laugh that the first thing out of his mouth is to make sure you’d listened to what he’d said, even though he must be more than aware that all you want is for him to throw you onto the bed.

“I’ve been drinking.” You assure him, though you can’t help rolling your eyes a little. 

His gaze narrows, not questioning but still eyeing the half-empty bottle on your nightstand.

“And you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling like I might lose my mind if you don’t touch me soon,” you all but scoff.

“You know what I mean, darling,” he warns, sharp eyes flicking down to your lips.

For the love of god, please just kiss me.

“Still good, Ulysses, I swear. And I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not.”  you reply, sweetly frustrated, but you can’t help but smile at his concern.

He seems placated, but still doesn’t approach you.

“And did you work past your shift?”

You swear to god one more question and you’re just going to throw yourself at him, though this one still gives you pause.

It had been your instinct to, you can’t deny it, tempted to find more to occupy yourself so that you wouldn’t be quite so trapped with your thoughts. But you’d resisted, and once you passed off the paperwork there was no real reason to stick around.

“No. I didn’t.” 

You feel a little silly at the giddiness that follows your truthful reply and the pleased grin that twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“And you waited.”

These words are lower and there is no question in them. 

You’re certain that he already knows the answer, that he could tell as soon as he’d walked in the door. You’ve been antsy, unable to stop shifting on your feet, your restless hands unconsciously picking up your scarf from the table by the door and twisting the short fringe into tiny spikes during this exchange. 

“I did.” 

Slowly he steps toward you, plucking the scarf from your fingers and dropping it back on the table.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice drops, your breath hitching in anticipation when a hand lifts to finally reach for you.

But then he pauses, fingertips a hairsbreadth from your skin. Seeming to consider something he pulls back again and you have to bite back the frustrated noise that wants to escape your throat. 

“Come with me,” Klaue moves away from you, nodding toward the door. 

“I’d very much like to, thanks,” you think, the tingle of the near contact leaving your nerves buzzing, but while you're nearing your wit’s end you can’t help but be curious about what he’s thinking. 

Steeling yourself with a deep breath you nod wordlessly, but as you walk over to grab your key card from the bedside table you make a quick decision. Following the temptation of a thought that you’d been considering earlier you slide open the drawer to find something hidden within, quickly pocketing it along with the key and your phone.

Before you’ve gone very far, though, Klaue directs you to the canteen. You can’t say that this is what you were expecting but you wait quietly, curiosity knitting your brows as he starts to work one of the machines, hot water pouring over a black tea bag as he adds a packet of honey to the dark, steaming liquid. But then instead of drinking it himself he hands it to you.

“I know you didn’t drink enough water,” he chides.

Your mouth drops open though no words come out. 

You want to laugh, acutely aware that you both know the reason for the tea. Eyes wide, you glance around and even though you know that anyone who might be watching will continue on oblivious, when your eyes meet his heat flares between your thighs as you recall the tears that stained your cheeks while you gratefully licked his mess from your lips.

“Thank you.” Your heart races as you bite back a smile and finally wrap your fingers around the proffered drink, and then with a darkening look you feel a hand on the small of your back, swiftly guiding you on your way.

You really had felt fine but as you sip the hot liquid you have to admit that it feels nice as the honey soothes your throat, a frown and another swallow of your tea unable to tamp down the flutter in your chest that seems to match the sweetness on your tongue.

When you reach a familiar juncture you wonder if he wants to finish things where they’d started, but then you make a different turn and then another, leading you away from his office until eventually he stops in front of a door that appears to be down its own hallway. 

The cup freezes on its path to your lips when you notice the key card in his hand and the realization suddenly hits you: These are Klaue’s quarters. 

Oh shit.

It hadn’t even occurred to you as a possibility tonight. Not that you hadn’t thought about it - in fact you’d thought about it more than a few times - but you still feel like a deer caught in the headlights as the lock beeps and clicks open.

Your heart pounds as you follow him inside where you’re greeted by an insistent pinging coming from a workstation in the corner, and with an impatient sound Klaue walks to the desk with a scaled down version of what you’d seen in his office.

“Hm, I need to check on this. I’ll just be a minute.” 

You barely hear him. He could have very well told you that an Asgardian ambassador and the Queen of England were waiting for a video call with him and you’re not sure that you would have reacted. 

As you wait for him you force the analytical side of your brain to kick in and try to observe some of the details, noting that his room is almost identical to your own quarters, just bigger: An open layout, a closet in the same spot, but with something that could actually be considered a proper window. 

The main difference is the additional space akin to an office with the desk and electronics connected to several monitors, which doesn’t really surprise you: Klaue doesn’t strike you as the type to ever really stop working - at least not for very long.

Aside from the cool light emanating from the corner where he’s sitting the room is dim and unexpectedly warm, and as you look around your eyes inexorably stray to the bed (his bed), partially made, the covers and sheets a stoney grey and roughly pulled up to where crooked pillows sit against the headboard and- 

Jesus, you need to sit down. 

Unfortunately the only place to sit right now would be the bed, which just makes you need to sit down even more, and-.

Oh god.

Squeezing your eyes shut you take several slow inhales in an attempt to get your pounding heart under control.

“So..” 

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, and when your eyes fly back open you see that he’s finished, the monitors now sitting dark behind him.

“Have you decided, darling?” Klaue’s words are deceptively casual, belying the heat in his eyes.

He’s back now, focused entirely on you again, chin propped against his knuckles as his hungry gaze slides over your body, and you can’t help how your own eyes immediately stray to his spread thighs and the prominent ridge between them that’s growing evident even in the low light.

“I have.” You manage to keep your voice soft, but you can’t hide the tremble in your reply.

Pushing himself up out of the chair Klaue slowly saunters over to where you still haven't moved, stopping when he's close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, invisible tendrils of need reaching out for him, desperate to close the gap.

“And?” The word is low and breathless and sets your nerves alight.

Finding it difficult to meet his eyes your teeth catch your lower lip, a shy flush working its way through your body even as your desire flares hot again. 

“Well, it wasn’t easy.” You glance at him through your lashes. “I had a lot of time to think. And there are so many ways that you make me feel good.” 

As you speak he finally reaches out to you, fingers grasping the hem of your shirt and tugging it up until you lift your arms to allow him to pull it over your head.

“Go on.” Klaue prompts, leaving you to swallow a moan when he suddenly drops to his knees.

Looking up at you expectantly his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, briefly cupping and squeezing the curve of your ass before moving to your waist to seek the bare skin there.

“Well, I was thinking about…letting you watch me.”

Fingertips still in their ghosting path just above your waistband.

“I thought about letting you watch how I use my fingers to make myself come when I’m alone here. Alone and wishing you could hear me every time I moan your name.”

You can see that his breathing is going rough at your words, and licking your lips you continue.

“Or maybe…using this.” Slipping your fingers into the pocket in the side of your leggings, you pull out what you’d tucked next to your phone earlier, shining silver and not much bigger than a tube of lipstick.

Brief confusion followed by a sharp look of understanding flashes across Klaue's face as he realizes what you’re holding.

“A vibrator?” His voice is intrigued, a brow arching as he takes the small device from you and turns it over in his fingers, perhaps imagining you using it, writhing in pleasure yet unsatisfied because it’s not him. 

But at the same time you can tell he wasn’t expecting this, his expression coloured perhaps with a shade of disappointment. And that shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. 

He looks like he’s going to say something but holds it back, he’d laid out the parameters, after all. He’d told you that you had to decide how you were going to come, but he didn’t actually say that it had to be him.

“I thought about you watching me with this against my clit, until you decide I’ve had enough. Until I beg you to let me stop.”

You can see his mind working though he’s uncharacteristically quiet, the fingers of his free hand digging into your hip so hard it’s beginning to ache.

“But…then I changed my mind.” 

“Yeah?” Klaue’s voice is strained as he seems to go still as stone, hardly seeming to breathe now, waiting for you to continue.

“I want your mouth, Ulysses.”

A look of pained relief glints across his eyes before hardening back into a vehement blue, and without waiting for you to say anything else he roughly tugs at the waistband of your leggings, peeling them halfway down your thighs, and then with a groaned sigh his lips are suddenly pressed against your clothed mound.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Klaue’s breath is warm through the fabric of your panties, his tone indicating that it may have been less hope and more desperation. 

“Tell me why.” His command is the rumble of a distant storm that sends a shudder through your body.

“Because…I couldn’t stop thinking - I can never stop thinking about it, Ulysses, oh-” 

You gasp when his tongue is suddenly on you, pressing to easily part your cleft before sliding down to taste the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.

“Is that all?” He asks with an infuriatingly coy smile, waiting for you to continue. 

“I need your mouth between my legs, I need you to taste what you do to me, what just the thought of you does to me, oh my god-”

He rolls his tongue against your clit, the slick friction quickly growing rougher and more demanding. 

“And because…because I can feel that you want it too, and that makes me feel really fucking good.”

Arching against his mouth your words trail off to a moan, but just as pleasure begins to swirl hot and insistent Klaue pulls away, his fingers tugging your panties down as well, and your hands brace on his shoulders as he helps you out of everything.

“There’s very little in this world I want more, darling. I love feeling how wet you get when you’re desperate for my tongue."

As you watch his fingers moving it occurs to you that he often seems intent on being the one to undress you, calloused palms running over the skin he's revealed, that's his to reveal, eyes dark and riven with need as though seeing you for the first time.

Once you’re stripped down to only your bra he pauses, hands fitting around your waist, forehead resting against your hip. Warm breath washes over your skin and although he’s so, so close to where you’re aching for his touch you find yourself pausing with him, your mind growing quiet.

It’s a different kind of quiet from the way he so deftly empties your head with his fingers or his cock, every thought supplanted by pleasure. There’s still a trembling anticipation that can't be ignored, electricity buzzing steadily through the air between you, but for a moment you both surrender to the calm, hovering in that space between heartbeats.

Your hands explore the backs of his, playing over his rings, over the leather cuff on his wrist, and when they trail over his forearms you can feel the faintest tremble in his muscles as he holds you against him. 

Your fingers find a salt and pepper curl and brush it away from his face, needing to see him, the breath nearly knocked from your lungs when his shining blue gaze finds yours. He almost looks surprised, perhaps unused to your tenderness, but after a breath the crease between his brows softens as he leans into your touch. 

It’s not long, though, before the air begins to crackle again and with his eyes still on yours he shifts, slowly dragging the tip of his nose along your cleft with a deep inhale and a sigh, and just that warmth against your sensitive flesh has you whimpering, the calm quickly ebbing away as your aching need swiftly flows back in.

Your hips flex forward to seek more and your breath catches in anticipation of his tongue, but instead he pulls away, and before you have a chance to protest he's standing again, reaching quickly to unclasp your bra, sensing a crack in his composure in the brief fumble of his fingers as they work the metal loops. 

Now standing naked in his room Klaue moves in close enough that as you breathe the peaks of your nipples brush against his still clothed chest, and when he leans in you instinctively tilt your head.

“Tell me again.” Lips ghosting across the skin beneath your ear sends fresh heat to your core.

“I need your mouth, need you to make me come on your tongue.” You pause before adding. “As many times as you want. Please.” 

“That's right, you will.” Klaue replies, his voice low and tight with need. “Now, on the bed, darling.” 

Without hesitation you quickly make your way over to sit on the bed, the scent of him swirling around you as you adjust the pillows and settle back, and when you glance back up you're greeted by the intoxicating vision of Klaue standing at the foot of the bed, fingers frozen on the bottom button of his now open shirt.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you here in my bed.” He says with a rough sigh, fingers freeing the last button as his gaze slides up your legs and over the soft swell of your breasts.

“Can’t be more than the number of times I’ve thought about being here.” You admit in turn, a smirk beginning but quickly falling as you watch him peel off his shirt, muscles flexing beneath the ink that paints his chest and shoulders.

“I have to say, it seems I was right, Mot.”

“About what?” You frown.

“About how lovely you’d look, right there.”

Caught off guard by the sweetness in his words a reply falters on your lips, and you squeeze your thighs together as though it might help you to hide from the way he makes you feel. But of course he notices.

“Would you spread your legs for me, please?”

Biting your lip you meet his eyes and begin to slowly straighten your legs, sliding them down towards the foot of the bed before letting your knees fall open. At first it’s just enough to give him a teasing peek but the heat of his gaze has you helpless to keep yourself from him. 

Spreading your legs wider you pull your knees back and open, and when the cool air hits you exposed skin you’re immediately aware of just how wet you are, and not just your sex - you can feel the insides of your thighs have become damp with your arousal as well and judging by the look on his face he can see it.

Slowly you shift down a bit more, giving a little upward rock of your hips for his benefit as you tuck one hand up behind your head, letting the other rest across your hip, attempting to look much calmer than you feel.

Following to where you’ve made a lovely display for him on his bed he removes the last of his layers, freeing the deliciously thick curve of his cock to hang heavy and twitching between his thighs, and standing above you he tilts his head appraisingly. A flush of heat crawls through every inch of your body as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, then slowly sits down on the edge of the bed..

Reaching out a hand he lets his fingertips alight on your knee before dragging them up over the skin of your inner thigh, his eyes staying fixed along the path they take, watching intently as your muscles flex and quiver beneath his touch.

“Not my fingers, then? You’re sure?” Klaue teases, smirking when your hips cant up against the air. With significant effort you manage to drag your thoughts away from how good it feels, how easy it would be to let him relieve the ache in your core.

“YesI’msure,” you blurt in a rush, quickly reaching down to stop his hand where it hovers inches from your sex.

“Both hands.” He says quietly, eyes flicking above your head in explanation. “And keep them there. Understood?”

“Yes. I understand, Ulysses.” You nod, the vice of your fingers slowly releasing him.

Once you’ve tucked your hands up and between the two pillows you’re resting against, he seems satisfied and moves the rest of the way onto the bed, positioning his body over yours.

He’s warm and heavy and you can feel the grin when his lips find the hollow of your throat, your hips beginning to roll slowly beneath him, acutely aware of his hard cock nudging against the inside of your thigh.

“I’ve thought about you here like this for so long.” Klaue murmurs, his tongue tasting your skin, trailing slow kisses up one side of your neck and then down the other, making his way down your chest before pausing at your breasts.

Then you think you hear something else, something quieter, whispered against your heartbeat.

“Want to keep you here.”

But you're distracted by his mouth again before you can really register the words, overwhelmed by how you’re already trembling and clenching just from the drag of his lips across your inflamed skin, and maybe you imagined it anyway. 

When his tongue flicks over your nipple none of your thoughts don’t stand a chance, a moan immediately sliding from deep in your chest. He spends just enough time on each to leave them peaked and aching, but when he starts to move further down you stop him.

“No, wait! More please, please..”

You look down at him, breathless and imploring, arching your chest up to encourage him, sighing with relief when his tongue returns to swirl over the pebbled flesh, and soon you’re moaning again as he alternates from one to the other, kissing and sucking until you’re writhing beneath the solid weight of him. 

Just when you think you can’t take any more he holds a nipple between his lips, just the very tip of his tongue flicking quickly until an ache starts to build deep in your belly, everything growing hot and tight and then suddenly your back is arching hard as you let out a broken cry, and while his tongue continues to work a hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling there in a matching rhythm as your cunt clenches around nothing. 

It doesn’t have the same peaking intensity but it still feels like you're coming, like if he keeps doing this you just might, and only when he pulls away does the desperate tension finally release from your muscles with a gasp.

“Another night I’m going to find out how many times I can make you do that.” He looks up at you, his expression more than a little smug. “But right now I think it’s time I made good on my promise, don’t you?”

You’re unable to respond with more than a nod, still panting and shuddering as he resumes his path downward. Your skin shines in the low light as his lips and tongue lave along your stomach and over your hips, and as he finally reaches the juncture of your thighs Klaue adjusts himself, setting there so that he’s lying with his erection pressed firmly into the mattress.

He pauses then, using his thumbs to gently spread you open for him, his mouth hovering just over your aching sex to let you feel his breath before you feel his touch.

“God, you are soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

Before you can form any kind of reply he presses his lips against you, kissing just above your swollen bud, teasingly close to where you need him so badly that all you can do is whine for it.

“What was that, my darling?” He prompts you, gently taunting.

“I need your mouth on my pussy, please I needohhgod-”

He cuts you off with a flick of his tongue, then another, at first grazing you gently but then unable to resist he licks a hungry stripe through your folds, and the sudden slick warmth combined with the vibration of his moan through your cunt has you greedily rolling your hips.

Watching him as his tongue continues to move between your legs you can sense the tension in his shoulders gradually softening, that tension he holds as part of his natural state, ever curled and ready to react drains away as he gives in to your honeyed musk, his arms sliding around your thighs to hold you snug against his mouth.

You want to reach down, to run your hands over his neck and shoulders and through his curls, but you resist, gripping the pillow tighter in an effort to keep them where they are, not daring to take the chance that he might stop.

But then he does pull off of you suddenly, silently looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

“What- what’s wrong?” You pant, confused and trying not to be concerned.  

“You’re not a dream, are you?” Klaue murmurs, resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, plush beneath the scratch of his beard. He watches you for a long moment as though he were a parched man in the desert afraid that you were a mirage, and if he’s not careful he might lose sight of you. 

“I don’t think so?” Relief floods you and you laugh softly.

“No. You taste too good to be a dream.” 

Seeming reassured his mouth is on you again, lips soft and warm as they slowly, slowly close around your clit, and the gentle suction he adds now has your breath stuttering in your chest.

Your body begins to tremble, and seeming to anticipate it his arms tighten around your thighs just as you buck, keeping you in place as everything grows achingly bright and you arch against his mouth until you’re crying out, the pillowcase twisting in your fists as his hum of approval around your clit finally sends your orgasm surging through you hard and swift, pent up hours of thwarted desire finally finding its release.

And even when the pulsing waves begin to soften, he has no intention of stopping.

At times it feels like he’s trying to tease you apart at the seams, at others it seems to want to devour you all at once, and while Klaue has never been shy about exploring you he seems to relish taking his time tonight, soaking in your heat, teasing and licking every inch of you to find new patterns that make you sigh and roll your hips.

Your desperate pleas grow less and less articulate as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips so that he can grind your cunt against his tongue, and as overwhelming as it is you find yourself sinking into it. Letting the only thing you need be his mouth against the soft place between your legs you eventually lose track of how much time passes, simply focusing on the susurrus of heat and pleasure that flows out from your center as the sheets below you become soaked with your release.

Eventually when you start to whine and try to pull away Klaue sees fit to give you respite, suckling instead at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh until bruises begin to bloom there, and as his lips drag slowly across your skin you take the chance to watch him, your eyes catching the movement of his hips, his perfect ass flexing as he slowly ruts against the bed. 

He must be achingly hard now, and you find yourself breathless at the thought of the stain he’s leaving on the sheets beneath him. Fresh heat spreads through your core as you imagine how his cock is twitching and leaking for you, and it’s not long before he notices your needy movements starting to seek him out again, eliciting a whimper when he presses a soft kiss against your clit.

This time, though, he waits, letting his mouth simply rest gently against you, warm and soft and shockingly patient, until just as he senses you starting to fully relax he suddenly sucks your clit between his lips and you’re gasping at the heated pressure around your bundle of nerves, his fluttering tongue unrelenting until you’re his name is the only sound your mouth can form.

Even now, sweaty and blissfully exhausted as he chases the last twitches of pleasure from your sex, you’re surprised that you can still feel the heady swirl of need humming through your tender flesh. And yet, although you have no real desire to pull away, and even though he told you that he was going to decide when you were finished, the thought still tugs from the back of your mind that he’s given you enough.

“You don't...don’t have to keep going.” You manage to stammer between panted breaths.

Pulling his mouth off of you Klaue looks up, his beard and full lips glistening with your juices.

“If you think I wouldn't spend the entire night with my mouth against you warm, sweet cunt." He punctuates this with a firm lick that has a moan lilting in your throat. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to work a little harder to turn off that mind of yours."

It's tempting, god it's so tempting to let him continue. You can feel yourself growing dangerously addicted to his unabashed hunger between your legs, yet you can’t deny that there’s a growing need for something else.

Because he hasn’t even put his fingers inside of you, only his tongue occasionally dipping down to tease at your entrance, and you’re fucking aching for more, imagining the arch and flex of his back as he fucks into you instead of wasting it on the mattress.

So you tilt your hips up to give him a more open view of where you’re dripping for him, a soft whine in your throat.

“What's the matter, darling? Tell me.”

“You said- you said if I was good…”

“Yes?” His eyes are fixed on yours as he mouths at the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your hip.

“You said I could come on your cock. And I waited. Like you said.”

“Yes, you did.” He pauses, considering. “But you were a tease, too, weren’t you? Pretending you wanted your little toy.”

Shit. Of course he’d figured you out. Your mind spins quickly, trying to figure out a way to keep what you’d been hoping for from slipping away.

“But I wasn’t lying, I did think about that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you did. But it was never going to be what you asked for, was it?”

You suck at your lower lip to keep from pouting and you have to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

What the hell has this man done to you? You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come already and yet you’re on the verge of tears at the thought of not getting to fuck him tonight. But you hardly get to see him, after all. It’s not fair.

“No,” you finally admit meekly. “Ohh ‘m sorry.”

You whimper when the tip of a thick finger begins circling your entrance, but as soon as you tilt your hips to try to encourage him deeper he pulls his hand back.

“No, please, I need you.”

“Would you like to be a little more specific for me?” Klaue asks, watching your face intently as his finger slowly returns, and you know he can feel the flutter of your muscles as he dips teasingly into you.

“I need you inside me.” Saying it out loud sets an invisible spark alight, pushing out thoughts of anything else as your words continue to tumble out in a rush.

“God, do you have any idea how perfect your cock is? How wet I get when I think about you stretching me open? And I think about it it every fucking day. I need you to fuck me, Ulysses, need you to fill me with your cock and your cum, please I need you so fucking bad, I need you, I-”

The last words are cut off when your voice hitches, fighting to hold back the tears that prick hot at the corners of your eyes. 

Desperate with need you’re only dimly aware that he’s moving, shifting himself to the head of the bed so that his back is against the pillows and then he’s tugging you up, causing you to let out a startled “Oh!” as your hands quickly move to catch yourself on his chest, quickly reminded of how strong he is as powerful arms lift you until you’re straddling his lap.

The thick length of him is hot and achingly hard, and he sucks a breath through his teeth when he slides through your folds, parting your cleft until the head, flushed and drooling, bumps against your swollen clit.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Klaue hums with a satisfied grin.

You’re nearly giddy with relief as you feel another upward flex of his hips, a heated slide of skin against slippery skin, and then you press your mouth against his, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He responds quickly, his tongue delving into your mouth, your kiss deep and full of desire as the rock of both of your hips grows more insistent.

Bracing more firmly on your knees you lift up, allowing him to slide further down until your kiss is broken by a moan when his cock catches at your entrance, your muscles already trying to clench around him.

Impatient now you reach a hand down between your legs to grip him, gasping at how hot he is beneath your fingers. He gives you a stuttered groan when you drag the mixture of his precum and your arousal along his length before shifting to line him up with your opening, and then finally you drop your hips firmly down. 

Your head tips back with a sigh as you revel in the delicious ache of his girth slowly nudging into you, his mouth immediately moving to nip at the column of your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

“Needed my cock, hmm?” Klaue's voice pitches low. “That's good. I want there to be nothing else you can think about. Don't want you satisfied unless you're full of me.” 

You feel a fresh surge of arousal at his words, your slick already dripping down his cock as you rock down harder, desperate to fit him inside of you.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. You're the only one who's ever made me want to beg, Ulysses.”

His eyes darken at your admission, groaning as your walls clench around him.

“I'm a lucky man, then, because you're so beautiful when you beg, klein Mot.”

Bliss continues to spool out through your body, and you’ve been so distracted by the sweet relief that you’re just realizing that he isn’t moving, that there’s a tension in his thighs and in the muscles of his jaw as he fights to keep himself still, focused only on watching you split yourself open on him. 

Keeping your pace slow you allow yourself to luxuriate in every sensation, in the ridges of his cock as he slides deeper into you, the heat of broad hands roaming over you skin, dimpling the flesh of your thighs and then sliding to grip your ass, spreading you obscenely as you work yourself further down his length.

You’ve never been able to watch him like this and you’re nearly delirious from the sight, from the way he reacts to every flutter of your pussy around him, his arms flexing as his grip on you tightens in an effort to hold himself back. As you continue to ride him your own hands can’t help sliding greedily over the firm muscles of his shoulders, over the hair that covers his chest and belly and then down to where, although he’s softening with age, you’re still you’re keenly aware of the strength that resides beneath your fingers. 

But as good as this feels there’s a frustration building, because although it’s gotten easier to take him he’s still so much, and you’re struggling to take him as deep as you want. 

And judging by the look in his eyes, he can sense it.

“More,” you plead, the movement of your hips growing more insistent.

“What's the matter?” He asks with a wolfish glint of gold. “You said you needed my cock, darling. So take it.” 

His bitten words are harsh, lightning crackling behind his teeth.

A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins as your hands slide around to grip the back of his neck in search of more purchase, fingernails digging crescents into his skin as you rock down harder. You can feel a low growl that you slowly realize is coming from your own chest as you desperately work to take all of him, and determined now you don't stop until your hips are snug against his, every inch of you finally stretched and spread open on his cock.

Breathing through the ache of it you take a moment to savour the prize of him fully buried in you, moaning when you give a firm roll of your hips and feel the slick friction of coarse hair at the base of him pressing and dragging against your folds, your eyes slipping closed with a blissful smile.

“Look at you.” Klaue rumbles, his fingers reaching to brush sweat-damp strands of hair away from your face. “That's my good girl.”

Tugged back by his words your eyes flutter open again as you rise up and slowly drop back down, your breathing mirroring one another as you find a rhythm. When you begin to add a rolling motion in time with each downward plunge you’re gratified when his mouth drops open, head tilting back to knock against the headboard with a groaned curse, though he still watches you through dark lashes, taking in the pleased curve of your lips and the bounce of your tits as your movements start to grow rougher.

Because you’re not sure if it's the angle from being on top and him sitting up like this but every slide of his cock into is you drawing an intoxicating flush of pleasure, tension swiftly coiling deep in your belly and licking a path up your spine as your breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps, and already being so overstimulated you’re unprepared for how quickly you can feel your climax approaching.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His voice is rough with hard fought restraint. “Use my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

Sweat beads on your skin, threads of pleasure stringing tight as the first inevitable surge begins to build, but then your thighs flex and your back arches and with the change in angle and the way your muscles are starting to tighten around him he’s suddenly slipping from where he’d been perfectly rooted deep inside you and you can feel the heated pleasure pulling away. 

You were so close that you can’t get out anything more than a mixture of frustrated pleas, but then his voice cuts through the haze, dark and driving straight to your core.

“No.” Klaue growls. “Stay down.”

Gripping your hips tight he finally takes control, a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as he roughly forces his cock back into your clenching cunt, and startled by the sound that escapes you bite your lip hard, trying to hold it back.

“None of that,” he grits. “You're going to let me hear you, yeah? Because those lovely noises you make, they’re mine. The way my name sounds when you come, that's for me.”

Both of his arms encircle your waist and then you’re surrounded by him, by his grip, his voice, his musk, all of it demanding your pleasure, and your mouth drops open as you succumb to his command with a ragged moan.

Your thighs are burning now as you ride him, but with the edges of your climax gathering again you wouldn’t stop even if you could, and this time when your muscles tense and you buck suddenly against his grip he’s ready, powerful arms holding you in place.

You cling to his shoulders, desperate to hold on to something as you feel yourself tipping, the nearly unbearable friction against your clit drawing everything to a bright point, a silvery haze creeping in at the edges of your vision as you hover over the line between blissful agony and release.

“Going to come so hard for me, aren’t you?” His rasping words are more a plea than a question, rough from the rhythm of your hips as you grind helplessly against him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Finally you gasp a lungful of air as though hitting a shock of cold water and then the breath is forced from your lungs by a sob, tears you hadn't realized were pooling in your eyes spilling over as your orgasm crashes through you, his name falling in a tattered cry from your lips.

Your inhibitions are completely lost as you fuck yourself on his cock, chasing wave after wave of pleasure that rolls through your body and you can feel the rush of your release slicking the skin between you as you fall utterly apart, the heat of it only just starting to ebb when his gruff words bring you back to him, cutting through the din of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Mot don't stop. Need to come in your pussy, I'm-” Klaue stammers, his voice cracking with need.

“Ohh please,” you can only moan through hitched sobs.

Not able to thrust into you the way he normally wants he instead grips you tight, bracing his heels against the mattress and rutting his hips up as best he can while roughly grinding you down, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on keeping himself buried as deep inside of you as he can.

“Look at me,” you plead, your voice thick with tears and want.

Klaue’s eyes snap to yours, bright with the flame of a sapphire sacrament  and after a few more broken thrusts he jerks beneath you, the muscles of his thighs flexing against the insides of yours, his bruising grip holding you down until relief floods his features and you feel the first hard throb of his cock, your name a honeyed plea on his lips as he comes deep inside you.

The tension in your body has finally begun to soften and as you regain some control you force yourself to hold as still as you can, wanting to feel everything, to feel every pulse as he spills himself inside you, soaking in the delicious sound of every grunted sigh as the thick warmth of his cum fills you.

He continues to twitch and throb inside you as you both catch your breath, large hands beginning to soothe over your back and sides and then back down to your hips, a satisfied hum rolling through his chest as his touch follows the lazy cant of your hips.

Sweat damp skin slides against skin and your moan matches his when he grips your ass and rocks you slowly up and then back down on his still stiff length, and though he hisses at the overstimulation he does it again, and then again, until wet sounds are filling the room as you writhe languidly against each other, the sticky slick of both of your leaking out from where you’re deliciously swollen and sore.

“God, the only thing better than the sweet taste of you, darling, is how pretty your pussy sounds when you’re full of my cum.”

“Jesus, Ulysses.” Your reply is half moan, half delirious laughter. “You’re going to kill me, I swear.” 

He sucks a breath at the flex of your muscles around him when you laugh, though he still looks rather pleased with himself. 

“Just returning the favour,” Klaue teases, though there's a sweet edge to his smug grin. 

Giving him a watery smile you tuck your head down to rest your damp cheek against the slope of his shoulder, and when you start to work your hands between his back and the pillow he adjusts so that you can slide them around his broad waist.

Gradually you both grow still, the only movement for several moments is the rise and fall of your chests as you quietly rest against one another, the claw on the cord around his neck pressing into you to leave a mirrored indentation in your skin.

Slowly you nuzzle your cheek along the scruff of his beard, seeking every bit of contact he'll give you, relaxing further when the weight of his arms settles around your waist, and as you sit wrapped in each other you allow for the thought that maybe he's just as reluctant as you to untwine just yet. 

And that maybe you did hear him say it earlier.

“Want to keep you here.”

Still, you don't want to overthink what he meant, so for now you let yourself simply enjoy this, here, tracing the salt of inked skin along his neck with your lips, though perhaps still hoping that, for tonight at least, he’ll want to keep you a little longer. 

When you do eventually separate you're both still content not to get up right away, bodies relaxed and half pressed against one another, a hand splayed across a waist, hip and thigh meeting.

You're not sure when he does get up but as you drift in and out of sleep you hear Klaue in the shower, although you have no interest in moving yourself, not caring about the mess between your thighs enough to do anything about it just yet. You might even admit that you're rather enjoying it.

Eventually he returns to where you lie in a half-twilight, your eyes blinking open when the mattress dips beneath his weight.

“You don't have to leave, darling, but I do need to go,” he says. “I won't be able to come back tonight, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you'd like.”

Pushing yourself up you begin to protest but his mouth quickly finds yours, silencing you with a swipe of his tongue. The kiss is firm and slow, a hand moving to cup your jaw, working with his lips to guide you back down to the pillow.

“It's really no problem to go back,” you start when he releases you, “I can-”

He kisses you again deeper this time, a little more demanding, coaxing your mouth open as his tongue slides against yours until you’re wondering what your reason was for arguing at all, and when he releases you this time you can only look up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

“Rest.” He murmurs, a thumb drifting across your cheek as you nod.

Before he stands to go, though, he draws your attention to something in his hand that glints in the low light.

“I'll be keeping this here, by the way.”

Your mouth forms a silent “o” as you watch him tuck your vibrator into the drawer of his night table and slide it shut. 

“I forgot about that.” You whisper with a bashful smile.

“So did I,” he admits, his fingers tugging down the sheet that's covering you to reveal your naked form. “And when I did remember, I wasn't really in the mood to share.”

His hand coaxes a knee open, his jaw clenching when he catches the mess still shining between your legs.

“But you might not be so lucky in the future.” 

There's a glint of a warning when his eyes return to yours, but before you can say anything you’re gasping when he suddenly slides two fingers into you, thrusting deep before pulling back out and you moan when, instead of offering them to you, he takes them into his own mouth, a satisfied hum rumbling through his chest at the taste of you mixed with him.

You’re still staring at him half stunned when he stands back up, licking his lips as his eyes sweep appraisingly over your body, as though he's trying to commit the image of you like this to memory.

“And you say I'm a tease. Do you have to go??” You try not to sound too needy, though you're pretty sure the way your hips are shifting again gives you away.

“I'm afraid I do, darling. Believe me, if I didn't...” He gives a rough sigh, frustration plain on his face. “But I'm here for two more days, and I will be taking advantage of them.”

“I certainly hope so,” you reply, a lazy smile curving your lips.

He gives you one last look as he closes behind him, and almost immediately you can feel sleep starting to steal over you again. You don't plan on staying very long, though, and as you turn over and tug the sheet back up you tell yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few more minutes, however it's several hours later when you open them again and realize that it’s now late (or early, rather). 

Once you manage to orient yourself in the unfamiliar space you have to laugh, entirely unsurprised at this point that you’d passed out almost immediately.

After showering you actually don't rush to leave, but strange as it is to be here without him you find yourself unable to resist the chance to observe his room a little more closely.

While this obviously isn't a permanent space it still has details of him scattered around; you'd noted a razor and shaving bar next to the sink, one of his khaki shirts hanging on a hook in the bathroom.

You take a peek at a shelf by the door, full of books that for the most part you don't recognize or aren't in English, but you do spot Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein”, a small wood carved stingray next to it. 

Hanging on the wall beside the shelf there's a framed photo of the ocean that looks like it was taken by a 35mm camera. Is it from somewhere he's been? Did he take it himself?

Sitting back down on the bed you intend to check your messages but your mind still wanders. You wonder if he does have somewhere that’s…maybe not home, but a place where pieces of him might be a little more embedded, that looks and smells familiar when he returns from time away. Somewhere that he rests.

You know it's time to head back to your room so you can get ready for the morning shift but you’re hesitant to get up just yet. Glancing at the bed and the mussed sheets, your hand slides over the pillow he'd been leaning against, acutely aware of the scent of him surrounding you, and without really thinking you lean down and press your nose into the creased fabric.

Immediately you're overwhelmed by the heady scent of him that infiltrates your senses: His musk beneath the soap, sweat and a faint trace of oil, all tied up with the still present scent of your mixed arousal, and it's only when you take a shuddering breath that you realize you’d been holding back a sob.

Sitting back up your hand quickly flies to your mouth, breath caught in your chest as you blink away the tears.

Shit.

The intensity of it honestly doesn't surprise you anymore, Klaue makes you feel - seems to revel in making you feel - more than you ever thought you could, teasing away the layers, revealing pieces of you that you didn’t even realize had been hidden. 

“I don’t know what this is.”

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.”

None of this feels any clearer now yet there's a certainty settling in your chest, and it feels like that part of you that's been unsteady since you’d met Klaue in Utrecht is finally starting to right itself. And at the same time, maybe for the first time, you feel something unlocking in you, opening to the possibility of perhaps letting someone else help you find your balance.

So although you have no idea where this path leads, you're starting to accept that you aren't going to be able to stop until you find out.

AN: Once again, thank you so much for reading! 🥰 As I said this next chapter is going to be a beast (already trying to talk myself out of splitting it up again if it comes to that, lol), but I'm looking forward to continuing to exploring things between these two idiots, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

[stargirlfics]

also klaue and pennyworth for sure are loud, noisy lovers - he makes so many growls, grunts, laughs and groans even nonsexually in his characters, this has to translate 🤭

YES I FULLY STAND BY THIS!

It’s something I love about Andy and his performances is his damn smooth voice and the mannerisms he brings to all his characters and I definitely think they’re all pretty vocal lovers, it just makes so much sense!

Klaue especially, it comes naturally for him he’s always grunting responses and it’s not often that you see him laughing but you love the sound when he does, it’s this raspy rich rumble that comes from his belly and it gives you chills. Very much a growler too 😵‍💫 in and out of bed, giving orders and handling business but most loudly when he’s about to come, ahem!

Alfred gives me the impression of being a really dirty talker when he’s in the mood, lots of heavy breaths and hums from him, almost cooing at you in encouragement or praise—even in warning when the situation warrants it (christ do i want him to tell me to behave myself!) plus the way he speaks often sounds like poetry to you, rich and soothing to your ears. He can have you calm and sleepy yet also turned on and wanting more from the way he entices you with a smooth whisper or a groan near your ear

Wheww I want them both so bad, vocal men are everything!

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader/Flight attendant Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.7K Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, But no specific identifiers, Description of Anxiety, Panic Attack, Mild PTSD, Fear of Flying, Pet Names, PWP, One-Shot, Semi-public Sex, You Have to Be Quiet, Bathroom Sex, Mile High Club, Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms

A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting away from me! But it was fun, and a nice exercise to work on outside of my series. And even with not being able to write at all for a good few days of it, two and half weeks for over 4.5k+ words (from scratch!) is definitely a record for me!

I have to give a shout-out to the many thots that come from the Andy Discord, and @tarrenterror for this one specifically. 😉 I hope you enjoy this little drabble that ended up turning into way more than that! 💕

Title is from "Learn To Fly" by the Foo Fighters

AO3 Link

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Yesterday’s flight from Lisbon to Johannesburg had been a long and turbulent one with a very rough landing, much rougher than you’re used to even after three years as a flight attendant. 

The storms had kept you circling in the sky waiting for a break that refused to come, and after a long-haul flight the fuel was getting low so the pilot didn’t have a choice but to land. The plane hadn’t ended up going off of the rain-slicked runway but it was damned close, and you've been on edge ever since.

Even the tedious interview with the SACA Authority wasn't annoying enough to distract you for long, and neither last night’s patchy sleep, nor the mini-bar Red Bull are helping the persistent shake in your hands, but you have a fifteen hour flight to Corfu leaving today so you get yourself moving, hoping that a shower and some food will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You’re not able to eat very much either, but mercifully last night’s storms have cleared and takeoff into a cloudless blue sky is smooth and uneventful, although your stomach is still acting like the toast you had managed to eat was an affront to your body.

You've never been airsick and you'd really prefer not to break your streak, not least because of the razzing you’ll get if you do, so you’re grateful when the plane finally levels off so that you can find your equilibrium again, and once the “Seatbelt” sign goes dark you're grateful for the distraction as you start rolling the beverage cart down the aisle.

Working on autopilot you don’t realize how completely you’ve zoned out until fingers are closing over yours as you hand a passenger his drink, barely catching his question.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Nudged out of your daze you finally look down at the man you’re serving.

He’s wearing dark jeans with heavy boots and a black button-up, the collar open to expose black ink across his chest and collarbones, sleeves rolled up to expose more tattoos on his forearms - or forearm, rather. Your brain tries to parse why his one arm looks not-quite-right until you realize it’s a prosthesis, although it's far more realistic than any you've ever seen apart from the distinct seams running through it. 

When you finally meet his you're quickly drawn in by bright blue eyes contrasted with tanned skin and dark salt and pepper curls, and while his hair is a bit shaggy you can faintly see another tattoo arcing beneath it.

It feels like your brain is on a delay, caught off guard by a combination of the inquiry and his striking features, and after several moments of your confused stare his eyes flick to where your hands are still connected. Suddenly you’re aware that inside the calm pressure of his fingers, yours are trembling, and it clicks that he must have seen the liquid shaking in the glass when you handed it to him.

"Oh. I'm ok,” You finally respond, giving your head a quick shake. “There was just a lot of turbulence on my flight coming in yesterday, and then we almost went off the runway, so..I guess I’m still a bit shaky, that's all.” 

You’re surprised that you answer him honestly but something about the way that he focuses on you, his eyes sharply observant, has you dropping the professional guard that you normally keep airtight with passengers. 

“Ah, that was you,” he says, finally releasing your hand and taking the proffered glass. “I heard about that. And you’re still back on a plane, today? That’s impressive.” 

His words are earnest as he tips his drink at you, and you find yourself fighting the flush that warms your skin at his praise.

“Well, it is my job," you reply, trying to keep your shrug nonchalant. "But thank you for your concern, sir.” Trying to brush off the brief flash in his eyes you work to settle your polite customer service mask back into place.

“Well, it sounds like you can handle it. But if you need a distraction,” the man takes a sip of his drink, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial timbre, “I might be able to help with that.” 

Meeting his eyes with a start you definitely see a dark glint in them now, the casual certainty in his tone that making it difficult to mistake his meaning.

It’s not the first time you’ve been propositioned - in fact it’s pretty par for the course in this world - and normally your reply would be quick and trite, saccharin words shutting down the standard attempts at flirting with a captive audience that you’re used to dealing with. But the teasing lilt of his words and the way the colour of his eyes deepens as they flick over your body sends an unexpected thrum of heat between your legs.

You're still trying to work out a reply when an annoyed voice cuts through the tension.

“Uh, miss? Maybe someone else could get a drink over here, today?"

“Of course. I’ll be right there,” you reply quickly, plastering an apologetic smile on your face, unsure whether you feel relieved or frustrated by the interruption. 

Relieved, you tell yourself. You're relieved. 

You manage not to look at the man again while you finish serving the rest of the food and drinks, but on your way back up the aisle when you finally allow yourself a glance as you pass his seat he calmly meets your eyes, making no attempt to hide that he was watching you.

You thought that you were going to make it the rest of the flight without incident, but in the early morning dark just a few hours before landing the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and even though it was barely a shake you had jolted awake instantly.

Now, while the rest of the plane slumbers on you’re tucked in the alcove back by the washrooms with your eyes squeezed shut, jacket and scarf discarded at your feet as your heart does its best to escape through your chest wall. Even though the plane is perfectly smooth now your nerves have returned in full force, fingers tingling as you try to will the cold, hollow feeling in your gut away from spreading into your limbs.

You feel a presence enter your personal space at the same time that you see the shadow fall over you through closed eyelids, and the voice you hear is low and calm, sliding its way into your consciousness between panicked breaths.

“Take a deep breath, love.”

Forcing your eyes open, you see the tattooed passenger from earlier standing in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s- I’ve never been like this before on a flight,” you feel compelled to explain as tears of frustration prick at your eyes. “I just can’t catch my-” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down so you don't disturb the sleeping passengers.

He glances over his shoulder briefly and then back at you, pausing for a moment as he seems to consider something, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s quickly guiding you into an unoccupied washroom, following closely and locking the door behind you.

Taking your hands in his, he moves them so that your palms are pressed flat against his chest, and when he speaks his words are steady but firm.

“Now, take a deep breath for me."

As he draws a slow, deep breath himself it dawns on you that he wants you to mimic him, so on his next inhale you match it by taking a shaky gulp of air into your lungs, and when he holds his breath at the top of it for a few seconds you do the same. Letting your eyelids slip closed you find that you’re able to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the feeling of warm fabric over firm muscle, on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this but steadily your nerves begin to settle, every breath calmer than the last. 

As your senses start to slide back into place you become aware of calloused palms covering yours, of your breath mixing in the shared space between you, and when you open your eyes again you’re greeted by the sight of both of your hands framing his chest beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“How are you feeling now?” The soft gravel of his voice draws your attention upward, appraising eyes meeting yours.

“Better. I…thank you. Really.” You reply truthfully, feeling better than you have in the past forty-eight hours.

Logically you know that you should end this now, that you need to pull away and return to the rest of the plane to prepare for the approaching dawn, but instead you feel frozen in place beneath his gaze.

“Good,” he says, making no a move to pull away, either.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline still working its way out of your system, or the way that his hands sliding up your forearms makes you shiver, or the heady musk of sweat and cologne mixing with the warmth of your bodies in the close space, but when you do move it’s not to pull away.  Instead you tighten your fists in the fabric of his shirt and when you tug he immediately responds, crowding closer until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

Keeping his eyes on yours his hands drop to your waist before sliding slowly around the curve of your hips, and when he tugs you against him you gasp when you feel the stiffening curve of his erection pressing into your abdomen.

He leans in close enough that his lips brush the crest of your ear, and though his breath is hot on your skin his words raise goosebumps along your neck.

“Would you like your distraction now?”

You can hear the smile curling around the sweet tease of his words, and you hum an affirmation, unable to help the roll your hips against his arousal.

“What was that?” 

There’s a sharper edge to his voice when he prompts you again.

“Yes,” you say more firmly, startled by how he’s managed to drop your guard and stoke your need so quickly, the warm ache between your thighs swelling from his proximity and a few simple words.

Pulling back, a hand moves to cup your cheek as you look at him through hooded eyes, a thumb sliding under your chin to tilt your face up and then his mouth is closing over yours, full lips surprisingly soft as they drag across yours in a teasing slide, and just when you feel the faint flick of his tongue and you part your lips to deepen the kiss, he pulls away. 

For a long moment time seems to hang suspended in the sharp blue of his eyes, and then as if drawn by a magnet it’s you that’s moving and your mouth is on his again, your own tongue flicking against the seam of his lips and you sigh when he parts them. 

The kiss quickly deepens as you run your hands over the broad muscle of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his tongue swirls against yours, licking deeper and growling into your mouth when your hips start to roll against him more urgently. It’s not long before your touch grows frantic, both of you seeking more, fingers blindly grasping at fabric and tugging at buttons until his shirt hangs open, forgoing yours entirely as he tugs it up over your head before pulling you back against him, a hand sliding beneath your bra to cup your breast as he kisses you breathless in a growing fervor of tongues and teeth, 

When you try to lift your leg but your skirt stops you he tugs at the hem, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your middle and when you hitch your leg around his waist he grabs your hips in his hands, your cunt throbbing as he grinds you against the rough denim covering the now very prominent ridge of his cock.

Then suddenly his tattooed hand is finding its way between your bodies and sliding down to find the juncture of your legs, your mouth dropping open with a helpless moan when his fingers press the damp fabric against your sex.

“How are you feeling now, love?” He pants against your lips, his teasing words now rough with lust “Dis-distracted.” You huff a breathless laugh.

"That’s good,” he hums. “But you’re going to have to be quieter than that. You wouldn’t want to wake the other passengers, now, would you?”

His fingers press more firmly now, the friction of the slick fabric against your clit has you biting back a moan as you buck into his touch.

Taking a steadying breath you glance at the door before flicking your eyes back to his and shaking your head, No. 

With a pleased look his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as his fingers part you, sliding through your already damp folds and down to your entrance and you bite your lip as just the tip of his finger presses into you, gathering your arousal before sliding back up to nudge against your clit.

Then he does it again, fingers only swirling against the sensitive bud for a few seconds before dipping back down to find more of your slick, tracing and re-tracing the path along your sex until you’re trembling, and maybe it’s the altitude but you’re startled by how quickly you feel your orgasm building just from his teasing touch.

“Oh my god, I-” You whimper.

“What, love?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his words, but he must take pity on your desperation because his focus is only on your clit now, pressing firmly and quickly picking up on your needy rhythm as you rock against his hand, a shaky whisper squeaking from your throat.

“So close, oh my god oh-”

One of your hands flies up to your mouth to stifle the moans you can no longer hold back, faintly aware of rough words whispered into the space where you hover between anticipation and ecstasy, Let go, just like that. And then all of your thoughts are wiped away, eyes squeezing shut as your body tenses in bliss and you come hard, swells of pleasure surging out from the point where his fingers firmly coax your writhing hips to take what you need. 

His hand stays pressed against you even as the waves start to soften, feeling the aftershocks that continue to ripple through your cunt as your body relaxes and you drift back to awareness, and only when you go limp, your hand dropping from your mouth with a sigh does he release your thigh and remove his hand from between your legs. 

Though you’re still unfocused and trying to catch your breath, when his hands move to his belt your eyes follow, watching as he unbuckles it and then lowers the zipper, pushing his underwear and jeans down together until his cock bobs free, thick and glossy with precum at the tip. You lick your lips at the sight and he smirks at your greedy stare, stroking himself lazily a few times, smearing you along his length with the hand that was just between your legs.

Then without warning he grabs your waist, turning and pushing you forward and you have to quickly brace yourself against the wall as rough hands push your panties down around your thighs, and you hear a hitch in his breathing behind you as he grips your ass, slowly massaging and spreading you open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright love?” 

It’s a question that’s not really a question at all, but his rumbled words have you instinctively arching yourself into his hands and when you look back over your shoulder you go breathless, the blue of his eyes ocean deep and rough at the edges as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex. 

“Can see how wet you are,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself as he finds your soaked entrance again, and you barely manage to hold back a moan when he slowly slides a thick finger into your tight heat.

“Yes, you certainly seemed to like that, didn’t you?” 

His words are maddening but you’re unable to help the shuddering gasp when he adds a second finger, continuing to pump deep into you until his hand is shining with you.

“Shhh, listen," he hushes, and you bite your lip as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the soft wet sounds of the slide and suck of them every time they sink into you obscene in the small space. “Already so messy, but I want to know how much more of a mess you’ll make when I’m fucking you on my cock.” 

You whine at the loss as he withdraws his fingers from you, using them again to slick himself with your arousal before pressing forward, and you tremble with anticipation when you feel the thick head slide through your folds to line up with your entrance.

The grip of his prosthetic hand on your hip is strong as he holds you in place, the thought fighting it’s way through the lust that it’s more than just what it seems - and that you should probably be concerned by that - but you can’t seem to find the will to care when his cock starts slowly sinking into you. 

Your eyelids flutter and you have no control over the gritted moan that escapes from your throat as he stretches you open, and he quickly moves his other hand to cover your mouth.

“I’d love nothing more than to make you cry out til you’re hoarse,” he growls between clenched teeth. “To find out what pretty sounds you make when you’re desperate. But right now I need you to be good for me and stay quiet. Can you do that, love?”

You’re not actually sure if you can, but the only clear thought in your mind is that you need him to keep going, so you nod against the resistance of his hand. 

Feeling your agreement he releases your mouth and moves both hands back to your hips, continuing the slow slide of his cock into you. Just barely managing to tamp down the sounds he’s drawing from your throat you once again focus on taking deep, shaky breaths as your fingers grasp at nothing on the wall, and even though the aching stretch of him is almost too much all you can think is that you want more.

Laying your palms flat you brace yourself against the wall and push back, rocking your hips to encourage him deeper, but he’s thick and even with your effort there's not enough leverage in this position to take him as deep as you want to.

However that doesn’t seem to stop him from letting you try.

"You can do better than that, can't you?” His words are an infuriating tease. “Don't you want to take all of it?"

You know he can sense how frustrated you’re getting as you continue to move, but he's still keeping himself just far enough back that you struggle to take him deeper. 

“Don’t you want to make me?” You grit back, startled by the low heat of your words.

“Careful, love. I’m not sure that you want me to ‘make you’.” 

His words are black as pitch as fingers dig roughly into the flesh of your hips, your cunt fluttering around his cock at the warning in his voice.

“Ohhh, but look at that.” he sighs, suddenly. ”Aren’t you a sight.”

Your movements falter, confusion interrupting your frustration until a hand grips your chin and turns your head toward the far wall so that your eyes fall on your disheveled reflections in the small mirror there, gasping as you take in the image of yourself, glassy-eyed and panting and still desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

When you meet his eyes through the mirror a slow grin spreads across his lips, and then his hand moves to cover your mouth again.

Your brows knit in confusion since you thought that you had managed to keep mostly quiet, but you only have a second to wonder what he's doing when without warning he thrusts hard, pulling you roughly back onto his cock at the same time and stifling your cry of surprise behind his hand as he finally buries himself all the way to the hilt.

"I know, shhh, it's alright, love,” he pants against your cheek. “Wanted me to make you, yeah?”

A muffled moan is your only response as he uses the hand that’s over your mouth to keep your head pressed back against his shoulder, then just barely pulling out of you he grips your hip tight with his prosthetic hand and thrusts back into you.

“Christ you feel so fucking good.” he grits out, rutting into you harder, and the fact that you can tell he's fighting to keep his own groans under control makes the bloom of pleasure in your cunt deepen as he fills you again and again, unable to hold back the whining pant in your throat at every jolt of his hips against your ass.

You try to brace your hands more firmly against the wall but your elbows buckle as he leans into you, thrusting hard, and you hold yourself on your forearms instead, hearing a delicious grunt in your ear every time he bottoms out. The muscles of your cunt begin to tighten, the angle and the deep friction of his cock grinding against the sensitive spot behind your clit sending white hot sparks beneath your eyelids, and you feel like if you could just get your fingers on your clit you’d be there.

You manage to steady yourself on one arm as the other hand reaches desperately down between your legs, the brush of your fingers over your clit rough and unsteady as he continues to fuck you but it doesn’t matter, it only takes a few circling swipes and every sense is tightening its focus on his cock and your fingers.

“Are you going to come for me again?” His growled whisper stutters with the rhythm of his thrusts.

But even if his hand wasn’t over your mouth  you couldn’t have responded, your only thought the breathless pressure of your climax rising higher and higher, blinding you to anything else as your vision goes grey at the edges and your body spasms around and against him, a desperate moan shuddering through your chest as your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Not letting up he continues to fuck you through it, every stroke of his cock achingly deep, but it’s not long before you feel his rhythm start to falter and with a final few thrusts he stills, the tight grip of his fingers digging into your jaw until you feel the throb of his cock as he comes, shaking against you and biting back a guttural sound as he spends himself deep in your cunt. The last waves of your climax have you still clenching around him, and while the movement of his hips slows he keeps himself buried in you as deep as possible so that you can do nothing but take every last drop.

You gasp to catch your breath when he releases your mouth and finally collapses against you. Pressing you into the wall he pants into your hair, the weight of him almost helping to keep you upright while your body is still shaky and unsteady.

After a few long moments like this you eventually feel him shift and pull back, both of you biting back one last moan as he slowly slides out of you, finding yourself aching at the loss.

“You go out first,” you say, still slightly breathless. “I'm..I need a second to clean up.”

“No, you don’t.” 

His tone is casual, and you don't really understand. 

“Um, after that? Yeah, I do.” You laugh a little, assuming that he’s joking.

“No. You don't.” He repeats firmly and turns to face you, a glint of gold flashing through his grin as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Because that wasn’t your distraction.”

“It’s...what?” You stammer, still trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Your distraction,” he continues, stepping back into your space “will be feeling my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the flight.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Maybe it’ll soak through your panties. Start dripping down your legs as you walk around serving coffee, and you’ll have to act like I didn’t fill your needy little cunt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pant. “What...who the hell are you?” It’s all you manage to get out as your mind swirls at his words.

He doesn’t answer your question, but when his expression darkens you can almost hear the words he doesn’t say: Maybe it’s best you don’t know, love.

“You should get dressed.” His eyes flick pointedly to where your panties are still down around your thighs, your skin flushing with embarrassed heat as he patiently watches you finally absorb his meaning, but something in his smirk has a swell of defiance surging through you, and perhaps there’s another kind of heat there as well.

Doing your best to fix a neutral expression on your face you keep your eyes on his as you slowly pull the garment back up before tugging your skirt down from where it’s bunched around your waist. Finally you pull your shirt back on, straightening and smoothing everything back into place as best you can before quickly fixing your hair.

Once you’ve tucked your flyaways behind your ears you meet his eyes again with an expectant arch of your brow.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly grin and gestures towards the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was right, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. 

There was more turbulence just before landing prep but you don’t feel the spike of adrenaline that you had before, as if the circuit of anxiety had been interrupted. Instead all you can think about is the slick warmth growing between your thighs with every step you take, and every time you glance at him he’s watching you, a persistent thrum of heat low in your belly at the knowing smile that curls the corner of his lips

About two months later, on the same long-haul flight from Johannesburg to Corfu, you’ve started walking the drink cart down the aisle when you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm leaning on the armrest. 

It could be anyone, you reason. Lots of people have tattoos.

You pretend that you’re not eager to reach the seat, but as you approach your breath quickens when the distinct arc of ink running up his neck and beneath a fresh undercut comes into view.

“Hello, love,” he greets you with a familiar grin. 

Heat slides through your core when you hear the voice that’s haunted your dreams for weeks, and you try to keep your words steady as you repeat the practiced refrain.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” 

“I have something for you, actually,” he replies, reaching a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a folded slip of paper, holding it up for you to take. 

After a beat you pluck it from between his fingers, opening it to see an address that you recognize as a hotel not far from the airport. And a name.

Ulysses Klaue.

Somehow unsurprised that he would have a name like that, you meet his eyes as you tuck the paper into the pocket of your jacket.

“Your drink order, then..Mr. Klaue?”

“Whiskey, please. And call me Ulysses, love.”

You bite back a smile as you move to serve the next passenger, wondering if you’ll have to wait the full fifteen hour flight to feel his hand between your legs again.

But judging by the glint in his eyes when you look back at him, you having a feeling that you won’t.

A/N: As always, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed reader's smutty little adventure in the sky. 😉

[tarrenterror25]

Title: Please hold... Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Klaue is not opposed to mixing business with pleasure.

Tags: oral (f!receiving), fingering, exhibitionism/semi-public(?), slight overstimulation

Notes: Self indulgent piece! Just something smutty and fun that's been on the brain. Wrote this really quick.

Read on AO3

In the sweltering hull of the Churchill, Klaue's got you on his desk in the small room he treats as a sort of office. The bits and baubles of his trades, the keyboard, the computer monitor have been pushed aside to make room for your ass. Rough hands caress you while your moans distract him from the incessant ringing of the phone next to you.

Klaue has your bare legs thrown over his shoulders while he sits in his chair, his face buried between your thighs as his strong calloused hands cup your ass to press your cunt closer to his face. His tongue laps at your folds and deliciously flicks your clit, and he growls when he feels your juices hit his tongue.

"Fuck, baby....taste so good," he groans before diving back for more.

Thank goodness no one can really see into the office from the glass panes that make up the other half of the wall. Or...at least you hope. You're certain that, despite the bulkhead door being closed, you're certain that someone could hear you down the hall, but it's the last thing on your mind.

You've lost track of how many times he's made you come. Each orgasm coming quicker than the last with how sensitive your cunt is. Your hands grip his hair and you throw your head back with a loud whine as your hips thrust voraciously into his face. "Just like that! R-Right there!" you beg.

Your eyelids flutter and your jaw falls slack as your legs contract around his shoulders and back to hold him to you. Your hands slip way from his hair and fall back behind you to brace yourself on the desk.

One of your hands accidentally knocks the the phone receiver out of the cradle and over the speaker of the phone you hear a man shouting at Klaue, angry for making him wait.

You gasp and a hand flies to cover your mouth and your other hand grabs Klaue by his dark curls. You try to pull his face away from you, but he's still going, his mouth sucking vigorously on your clit.

God.

He's insatiable and you love it.

But at the moment you aren't sure you want some foreign diplomat to hear you orgasm.

"K-Klaue!" you loudly whisper, giving his curls another frantic tug.

He just grunts in response. Then his blue eyes look up to make contact with your eyes and he trails his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to the top, never looking away.

Oh, fuck.

His gaze is still so dark and hungry as he looks at you.

Then his eyes slowly close as he lets out an appreciative moan. His grip on you tightens and he slowly peppers kiss to the inside of your thigh, his beard tickling you and making you squirm.

He looks back up at you with a stern expression and maneuvers your legs off his shoulders.

"Don't move," he commands.

He turns his attention to the phone and takes a breath to compose himself. Klaue leans in towards the phone and speaks to the caller.

You're not really focused on what he's saying, but how he's saying it. He's got that authoritative tone he takes on when he does business.

Klaue is a disheveled rugged mess right now; his chest is still heaving with each of his shallow breaths. He runs a tattooed hand through his hair and every so often his eyes dart towards you. He makes eye contact with you then his gaze flicks down to your still exposed pussy like he's making sure it doesn't go anywhere.

He's going over some numbers with the caller and sounds like he's trying to hurry the conversation.

You bite your lip and let your hand playfully creep towards your center.

His brow quirks up.

Your hand moves closer and closer to where you ache for him.

A little more frantically his gaze flits between your eyes and your hand while he speaks on the phone, like you're torturing him by having all the fun to yourself.

You watch one of his hands come to adjust his trousers, his cock clearly straining desperately against the fabric.

"Now, now, general," Klaue says into the speaker. "That's not what was agreed upon and you know that."

His other hand moves yours aside before you can touch yourself. He takes it upon himself to continue pleasuring you with his fingers. His eyes close when he feels how wet you still are and his lip curls into a snarl as he mouths a curse.

"It's no problem of mine if you didn't understand the terms that were laid out," he snaps at the voice coming from the speaker.

You sigh as his fingers delve between your folds and rub your slowly. He looks up at you and brings a finger to his lips in a "shh" gesture before sliding two fingers into your soaking cunt.

He moves his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, reaching deep inside you up to his third knuckle. You feel his rings press up against you, the gold threatening to also stretch you open and slip inside with his fingers. His head drifts from the phone over to your dripping sex taking his fingers with ease. He's not paying attention to what the man on the line is saying anymore. His free hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses your bare thigh, his fingers curling inside you now to hit the soft spot that makes you whimper.

"...need to taste you again, baby," he says softly in between his kisses.

You shiver as his lips worship your skin. The person on the phone is still ranting. "In a minute," you say, your voice low and husky with desire. "Probably should finish up your phone call."

He grins up at you and removes his fingers. "I wasn't asking," he whispers.

He turns his attention to the phone and quips, "Oh, well good luck finding someone else to arm your security detail then, assuming the Avengers left anyone else."

As he speaks he throws your legs back over his shoulders making you gasp. You never knew he could multitask like this.

He dives back between your legs, his tongue entering you, his nose pressing right against your clit in just the right way. Your legs wrap tightly around him again, your thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

You looked down at his face trapped between your thighs and watch as he deeply inhales your scent through his nose, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as a growl rumbles forth from his throat. It vibrates through your flesh and you can feel it hit your cunt.

The other person on the line is furious now, their tirade loudly echoing off the walls along with your stifled whines.

Klaue is ravenous for you. His tongue finds your sensitive nub again and relentlessly flicks it. There's only so much you can do to contain your moans. his face moves just a hairs breadth in the right direction and a jolt of pleasure courses through you, taking you further into the throes of pleasure as he hits the spot.

"O-Ohh, FUCK," you moan involuntarily. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and you start to cry out behind your palms.

"Klaue!!" the person on the phone shouts. "Are you even listening?? Klaue!!"

Klaue starts to sit up to address the caller, but one of your hands comes down to tangle in his curls and keep him in his place. He moans appreciatively, approving of your gesture.

You're so close to the edge that you can taste it. The pleasure builds deep in your core, the pressure becoming too much to hold back.

"Klaue!!" The caller shouts.

One of Klaue's hands lets go of you to blindly fumble around the desk until it reaches the phone and hits the hook switch to end the call.

His mouth never leaving your sex, he sits up a bit and abruptly uses both hands to pray your legs apart at the knee to fully expose you to him. The sudden motion makes your hands come back behind you to brace yourself on the desk.

His tongue hits your most sensitive spot and your legs start to shake in his grasp. It's too much and you need to let go. You're crying out loudly now, not really caring who might hear either out in the hall or down below. You're almost on the verge of tears it feels so good.

Your body convulses as you come hard with a high pitched mewl, your walls fluttering and your juices soaking his face.

He laps up your essence then slowly raises his head with a grin as your limbs go slack. His beard glistens with your arousal.

You're panting heavily, but also return the smile, a hand coming up to lovingly push back his hair as you sit up and adjust yourself on the desk.

He stands and leans in close to you and kisses you deeply, his tongue immediately finding its way into your mouth and allowing you to taste yourself. He pulls away, hands resting on the edge of his desk as he looks at you with a smug grin, his golden teeth catching the light.

"Suppose that's one way I can start taking business calls."

He winks.

[tarrensbookmarks]

JESS

Love the way he just rails the thoughts from reader 😵‍💫

The vibrations good god!!

You write his teasing so well 😩💕

— fold into me

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 2k

tags: sleepy morning sex, nightmares, pinning down / body restraint, light d/s, fucking the thoughts from reader, teasing, edging, sort-of v. light degradation, PiV, vibrating appendages, oral fixation, implied creampie(s)

a/n: inspired by this post, I read it and had crush me thoughts

Klaue doesn’t want you to worry. In fact - when you’re in his bed, he doesn’t want you thinking at all.

Klaue can hear you worry.

It settles over him, a silent weight as heavy as the gaze that drags over his profile in the soft, early morning.

You shouldn’t be awake. Not yet.

A rare day off, the promises of a day spent together. A nightmare waking you in the early hours instead - leaving you crying out as he’s ripped away by hands that clawed at him. Twining around his legs, threatening to pull him under - into the black depths, while you still reached for him.

They always seem to the come in the days just before he leaves. You can’t help the pit of worry that forms in your stomach - the fingers that rest against his ribs curling into fists, as you resist the urge to reach out and touch.

Craving the reassurance. To confirm that he is still here. That it was just a dream.

You were aware what you were getting into when you first started seeing him. There were secrets of course, but never about what he was. Your world orbited his, never fully joining, but you knew.

The stories and the whispered weight of his name. The deals and the fights and the danger. A twist of tattoos that dip beneath his clothes. The fresh and faded scars, and an arm made from metal.

That he was a bad man.

But never to you.

Your eyes drag over the angle of his nose. Past a strong jaw, the stubble darkening his cheekbones, to be scraped clean when he rises. To the thick fan of dark eyelashes against his cheeks.

And then a sharp glint of blue, as one eye cracks open.

“Should be sleeping,” He rumbles - the thunder before a storm.

Your reply is on the tip of your tongue before he is striking - quick, in spite of the breadth of his chest and shoulders. All you manage is a little squeak before he’s rolling you beneath him.

His weight presses into you - chest, hips, thighs. Pinning you to the bed as you squirm, an arm shoving under the curve of your spine. The other tucking under the pillow, as his cheek scrubs against yours.

“Klaue,” You protest, “I was just-”

“Don’t want you thinking,” His voice is low and rasping with sleep.

You huff, still shifting. But the weight - you have to admit it is nice. Crushing you into the mattress, a silent command to slow down and stop, for just a moment.

And so, you go still.

Taking in the moment. Seeing if sleep will tug at you again. Your hands slipping from beneath to slide up on either side of his ribs. Fingers folding together on his back in an embrace, the slow cadence of his breath warm against your ear.

It is soothing, but you’re too wound up. A skittering beneath your skin. Eyes fixed on the ceiling above - afraid that if they close, if you do sleep, you might dream again.

Your fingers eventually start to trace against skin, and he sighs at your touch. Nails dragging down his spine, the tips working into stiff muscles.

Only to freeze when you press too-hard into something tender - a hidden, half-healed wound - hearing the sharp intake of air through teeth.

The worry slips right back in.

He clucks his tongue at you. Don’t, you’re sure he’s saying. There’s a drag of his face against yours, bristle over soft skin, before it dips lower.

Warm lips press against the pulse point of your throat, the cant of his hips downward. It is now that you feel him - the thick curve pressed into the hinge of your bare thigh - that you squirm for another reason.

It’s difficult, with your legs pinned together, trapped between his parted ones. The hand between his shoulder slipping down and beneath sheets - flattening in the dip of his spine. The weight of his hard cock increasing, where it digs into bare skin, leaving a wet smear behind.

“Klaue.” You sigh his name this time, trying to lift your body against his. Hips to hip, the curves of your skin matching his. Gripping on now, instead of trying to slip free.

You crave him, and he rewards you. Splitting your thighs, his own working between them. Twining his ankles with yours, so much like the grasping hands from your dreams.

Theres another troubled flicker in your mind, before his legs are shifting. Slowly spreading them wide, taking yours along with them.

Opening you up, baring where you’re sticky and slick from the night before. From now - the press of his mouth and his words and his weight, as the need blooms in your belly again.

Your nose brushes his temple, in your search for him. Fingers twisting into thick, greying curls, trying to draw his face to yours.

A low hum of amusement, before he meets you. It’s hungry, your hands moving to wrap around his shoulder. Whining into his mouth when his hips lift and roll, his cock slipping down to press snugly against your cunt.

You swear you can feel every inch and ridge of him, as you clench in anticipation. Eyes closed as you concentrate on the sparks that arc up your spine with each needy buck of your hips.

How each time makes the velvet skin more slick, until he’s glistening with you. Nudging against your clit, teasing at your opening.

“This what you want?” Klaue’s lips brush yours. His voice still slow and smooth, content to wait. Letting you rut against him, as your teeth nip at his jaw.

You moan your assent, breathless. The weight of him presses against your ribs, leaving you dizzy. Another low laugh as he reaches between you, a fist wrapping around the base. Holding himself steady, the flushed head just nudging at where you need him.

“Come on, then.” He rasps.

And then, he goes still.

Leaving you wanting. Squirming again, as your eyes flip up to his. Seeing the darkened amusement, the careful way Klaue watches you. Fully awake now, but still keeping you pinned so carefully.

A living sculpture carved from flesh and muscle. Undeterred by the promise of your warm cunt, by the needy press of your lips against his skin and the thick weight of anticipation.

He wants you to do it.

You realize that, as he waits. It’s hard to move, with the spread pull of your thighs, pinned as you are. Hands bracing on his shoulders - trying to push yourself down, to impale yourself on him.

It makes you take him slow. Nails digging into his skin as he nudges a little deeper with each rock of your hips.

Leaving it impossible to think of anything else but him, as he splits you open. As you ache to be filled, already clenching down around him, trying to draw him deeper.

His breathing is harsh through his nose. Warm against your skin, the brush of his knuckles across your belly and breasts and tight peaks of your nipples on their way back up. Elbows and forearms planting in the mattress on either side of you, just barely adjusting his weight.

Each thrust of your hips is shallow. He’s not fully seated in you, only what you’ve managed to work inside so far.

It teases at what you want. What you need. Your initial spike pleasure quickly plateauing with the minutes that pass - the grind of your hips not nearly enough.

Leaving you teetering on the edge - your desperation dripping down his cock, sticky on your inner thighs.

“Please,” You try to whine, your face pressed into his neck. Mouthing at the brand, teeth scraping where shoulder meets neck.

The word become disconnected between your thoughts and your lips. Half gasped and half sighed, lost in the muted buzz of the city awakening outside.

“Are you still worrying?” He asks, his pulse fluttering against your lips. Betraying him, revealing that he’s not nearly as unaffected as he’s been pretending.

Hitching his hips forward, sinking deeper. Again your answer is more sound than words, drawn from deep in your chest.

“Oh,” He sighs, with that grin. Pulling back to let his nose brush against yours, seeing how gone you are, “You’re not thinking about anything at all, are you?”

Your thighs flex, brow pinching as he suddenly hilts himself. A gasp ripping from you at the way he fills you, your pussy making room for his thick girth. The heavy weight of his sack resting against the curve of your ass, coarse hairs already sticky.

“Oh, fuck. Good girl.” Klaue’s teeth clench, feeling how you wrap so perfectly around him. How you arch against his chest, panting as you adjust.

His voice dropping lower, with a smooth roll of his hips, “You listened so well, so I’ll give you what you need.”

And he does, the shallow thrusts you’ve managed turning into the rutting of his hips. Skin slapping against skin as the curves of his cock drag along your inner walls.

Pushing himself higher on his arms until you’re chanting his name, the fat head stroking against the soft, spongey spot that brings in the night again, making you see stars.

Your groan is guttural, eyes slipping shut again. No longer tethered to the bed, now somewhere far beyond - solely focused on the snap of his hips, the burn of pleasure with each plunge of his cock. Muscles already stringing tight, toes curling in blissful anticipation.

Missing his sharp smile in the early light, all white and shining gold. How he moves then, bracing himself again on a tattooed arm as the other slips downward.

The tips of his fingers whir - just barely activating the mechanisms inside. Pressing them cruelly against your clit, pinching the tight bud between two of them.

It’s too much - steady pulse of the vibration, the sharp punch of his cock. All-encompassing, until your mind is truly blank. The mindless grinding of your hips against his, chasing his fingers, the high that you can almost reach. Each breath shorter, everything winding tighter and tighter, and then -

With a ragged cry, you feel yourself shatter in his arms.

Your vision goes white and hazy as the edges, his name broken as you sob it. A different kind of wave crashes over you, the ripples flowing down your limbs, from your molten core.

His words muted, but you collect what you can. Growled endearments that slip between bared teeth.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

“Look at you, so fucking good for me.”

It’s bliss, this frozen moment in time.

You’re boneless, when he finally slips his legs free, hitching your thighs around his hips. Pleasure-drunk on the ambrosia that glitters in your veins, his hand lifting from between your thighs to pinch at your chin.

His thumb smearing across your bottom lip, eyes darkening as you part them automatically. Tongue dipping out to taste yourself, a sweet tang against his skin.

“There you go.” Klaue coos, seeing the dazed look as your lips close around and suck.

His own end not far off, with the warm grip of your cunt and mouth - the broken echo of his name ringing in his ears.

Knowing for certain that he has you thoroughly distracted. Starting a slow pace as he grins, an idea forming. Your eyes fluttering - threatening to roll shut again when his hand slips free, your lips parting with a sigh.

His hips pulling back - easing his cock out just enough to circle his thumb and finger around the base.

The vibrations start again as he drives himself deep, traveling down his shaft. Pulsing inside you, nudging against that spot again, as your eyes snap open with a sharp cry.

If he can hold off just a little bit longer - he thinks - he’s certain to coax out another.

Because when it comes to you, he’s nothing if not thorough.

This time, when he relaxes - his weight settling over you, a warm and welcome blanket - you find that your mind has gone blissfully silent.

Content to fold yourself into him. Arms wrapping around, head tilting to rest against his. Mimicking without thought the easy rise and all of his breaths, your quickened pulse slowly following.

He murmurs something soft and low, though you’re already gone.

Off to a sleep that, for both of you, comes easy.

He vibrated the glass, and it vibrated my - *gunshot*

[sisyphean-thirst]

Masterlist

Wanted to put some ideas I’m working on down before I forget. I’ll beautify this later, when I’m not working.

Ulysses Klaue

All About that Bass - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue. You. Anal. That’s the fic. One shot. WIP

Du Riescht So Gut - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Before Everett Ross, there was you. Klaue decides to have fun with his favorite CIA agent, but goes about it all wrong. Short Multi-Chapter. More smutty than fluffy. WIP

I Need My Girl - Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader: Klaue is intrigued by the pretty merc he meets at a gala. The ensuing first date is odd, extravagant, and highly enjoyable. Longer Multi-Chapter. Still workshopping. More fluff and smut. WIP

David Robey

Toxic - David Robey x F!Secretary!Reader: You’re David’s new secretary. Despite his attempts to frustrate you, your work performance exceeds his expectations. He decides to give you some more challenging work… Mostly smut, some fluff. WIP

Sergei Kravinoff

Superpredators - Sergei Kravinoff x F!Superpowered!Reader: Experimented on against your wishes, you’re just trying to find a new normal. One man’s scent unlocks a dangerous feeling within you… Sergei finds himself in the sights of another hunter; one who matches him in strength, speed, and animalistic nature. Oneshot. WIP

[ao3feed-thor]

You're not into super villains?

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/0kmp2SH

by TrashficParlour

A collection of drabbles featuring Bruce fucking various villains, either before they became villains or afterwards.

Words: 900, Chapters: 9/9, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Incredible Hulk (2008), Thor (Movies), She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bruce Banner, Ego the Living Planet, Aldrich Killian, Ivan Vanko, Ulysses Klaue, Quentin Beck, Justin Hammer, Loki (Marvel), Emil Blonsky, James "Bucky" Barnes

Relationships: Bruce Banner/Ego the Living Planet, Bruce Banner/Aldrich Killian, Bruce Banner/Ivan Vanko, Bruce Banner/Ulysses Klaue, Bruce Banner/Quentin Beck, Bruce Banner/Justin Hammer, Bruce Banner/Loki, Bruce Banner/Emil Blonsky, Bruce Banner/James "Bucky" Barnes

Additional Tags: Smut, Drabble Collection, Villains, Bruce Banner-centric, Semi-Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Sexual Inexperience, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Canon Compliant, you can't tell me it didn't happen

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/0kmp2SH

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝and now she’s all over me it’s like i paid for it❞

(not my gif)

summary: get in there, get what you want, get out.

warnings: smut, oral sex m receiving, klaue straight up murders someone (that means descriptions of blood) fingering, unprotected sex, prostitutes, there’s probably more warnings so let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: in my defense, i rewatched black panther and i was left unsupervised. this is kind of short, bye

//////

The LED lights lining the walls of the lobby were seedy, flickering, flashing a pathetically inconsistent purple that only further confirmed this place was a shithole. Something about it made you think it wasn’t to be trusted. A bad attempt at friendliness.

Get in there, get what you want, get out. Try not to speak to anyone if you can, your Korean’s horrible. Those were the exact instructions you’d given yourself.

As it turns out, it didn’t take long to find Klaue: he was in the darkened room beyond the bar, some hooker you didn’t recognize on his lap, the only thing unusual about it. You didn’t let the jealousy flood you— no time to waste on those petty emotions.

Being careful not to take your eyes off them, you leaned as seductively as you could against the doorframe. “Hey.”

You knew Klaue could only see your silhouette, but you hoped your voice was giveaway enough.

However, confusion flooded his features— apparently not.

“Who’s there?” he called, pushing the girl off his lap, and you took your first, confident steps towards the lamplight.

“Me, duh. I thought we had a deal, why you bringing some other whore into this?”

“Uh, I’m right here,” the girl cut in rudely, and even though she looked Korean, her accent was all American.

There was an awkward beat, then Klaue gave her a little push towards the door. “Go off, now. Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.”

She gave him a look, but started off the couch obediently: she didn’t get five steps before Klaue unholstered a pistol and opened fire on her back.

The girl collapsed in the space between you: her blood looked syrupy on the carpet.

“Right in front of me? Seriously?” you said, sidestepping the growing pool so the bottoms of your Louboutins wouldn’t get redder than they already were, “Who’s gonna clean it up?”

Klaue shrugged half-heartedly, and the pistol was still smoking, so he put it on the seat next to him instead of back in the holster. “They have janitors.”

There was silence as you sat down next to him.

“How long you staying in Korea?” you mumbled.

“Until my partner makes a move,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dead girl. She was definitely dead, and had died almost instantly, but dead bodies twitched. It was unnerving.

“How long you planning on staying in this room?” you pressed, turning your gaze back to him.

Klaue looked at you this time, his expression impossible to read.

“Until there’s a silver lining.”

He bent down to kiss you then, and normally you weren’t the type to rush, but you slipped your tongue in his mouth immediately, your hand tightening on his leg. He responded by gripping you by the nape of your neck, sending hot spirals everywhere he was touching you.

When he was done feeling out your neck, he reached for your leg, yanked it over his lap pretty goddamn quickly, and if you had any breath left, you would’ve giggled. You didn’t spend much time teasing him through his slacks like you normally would’ve: you simply lowered yourself down between his spread legs and teased him with your hands.

“What do you want?” you asked him, looking up at him, pupils blown wide but hardly noticeable in the lighting. He was hard, of course he was, maybe not fully yet, but certainly swollen, you could feel it.

Klaue wrapped his flesh hand in your hair, curling his fingers in tight. “I want fucking everything.”

You took that as cue to get a move on: you fumbled with his zipper and soon enough his cock was free.

You’d guessed right. He was already leaking and swollen, a drop of precum rolling down from the tip that practically begged you to lick it off.

His hips arched into your palm as you started stroking him, and you grinned as Klaue pulled you down, forcing you to taste him.

He was so big you could easily feel him in the back of your mouth, but you didn’t care, you bobbed your head and swirled your tongue until you extracted a low groan out of him. Your knees were digging into the carpet, your dress was probably riding up, and the girl was dead, for fuck’s sake, but none of it mattered.

You gagged and Klaue took over, fucking into your mouth with the flesh hand still in your hair. You moaned against him, knowing your drool was rolling down his length, and your eyes fluttered shut as he thrust wantonly into your mouth.

It didn’t take much before he was spilling onto your tongue.

“Plenty of time to make a mess of that pretty face later,” Klaue mumbled, a sly grin in his voice, and your pussy clenched around nothing as the grip on the back of your hair loosened.

You rose, hooking your legs around him, and Klaue slipped both hands under your slip dress to grip your ass as he kissed you searing and open-mouthed. You couldn’t help but flinch at having his weaponized hand on you, especially as it dipped down beneath your underwear, but the apprehension lessened as an artificial finger disappeared into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you hissed: it was almost too much. He was sucking a bruising kiss on your neck, you could feel the pressure building.

You twisted your hips against him and Klaue gave a shapeless grunt.

“You gonna come for me, love?” he mumbled, crooking the finger, “It’s barely been ten fucking seconds…”

“Need you,” you muttered breathlessly, “Needed you ever since I stepped into this place.”

“Ay, I can tell, comin’ in here lookin’ like that.”

His voice dipped disastrously low and you gasped as he tugged down the front of your dress: the rush of cool air around your breasts pushed you to the precipice, and you arched on his fingers.

“Calm down, love.”

You groaned as he twisted one of your nipples with his flesh hand, only to soothe the sting of pain with a wet kiss around the sensitive skin. Your eyes rolled back, you barely felt him withdrawing his artificial finger.

“So fucking needy,” he groaned, gripping your ass, actually pulling you up out of the way so he could tease his cock on your folds, “Bet you’d come if I let the head of it in, eh?”

You nodded frantically, and Klaue chuckled darkly. “That’s what I thought.”

So fucking generous tonight, he let you on his cock, and you moaned out loud as the knot in your stomach finally loosened. “Holy fuck.”

“Spread your legs, love,” he muttered thickly.

You did to the best of your ability, sinking down further on his cock, and Klaue rubbed your clit, moaning unabashedly like it was the most angelic thing he’d ever touched.

“Takin’ it so well…”

Klaue was completely buried inside of you when he started moving: you gasped pathetically as he pulled out half an inch only to sink even deeper than before, and your orgasm came like a wave, making everything in you clench and unclench at once.

You didn’t even register moving forward, but suddenly your lips were crashed against his as you twisted your hips against him, pushing even further.

It was rhythmic, you were moving together, he had a hand firm on your hip as he thrust into you, and you were doing your best to take all of him when he was filling you so deeply like this.

God, this feeling was enough to make you cross countries. You’d hijacked the jet just for this. It was hard to believe you’d actually been in Taiwan this afternoon.

“That’s it, love,” Klaue groaned. “I’m so fuckin’ close, making a mess of me now…”

He gave a few more lazy thrusts before completely slowing to a stop, and you gasped as you felt him fill you, the warmth practically covering every inch of you, he was so fucking deep.

“Thanks,” you bit out, panting, even though you knew you’d be getting back on him within minutes.

Klaue squeezed your wrist, possibly unable to move. “My pleasure.”

It took all the strength you had left, but you hoisted yourself off of him and tugged your dress down, only to collapse beside him as your legs were aching.

“Ow,” you mumbled pathetically.

“Stay,” Klaue mumbled, wrapping an arm around you.

[stargirlfics]

not over klaue and ball worship 🫣

when you want to spoil him (usually as a thank you for an especially nice present) you have him sit on the couch with his legs spread wide. You coo at him about how big he his, how heavy his balls are, and how hard it must be to carry all that around all day. And when you’re on your knees and popping each one in your mouth, he leans his head back and starts groaning 🫠

That’s so real like let me carry some of that weight for you, king 🤲🏾

Love this as an act of spoiling Klaue, treating him a little, the response you get from him is the gift that keeps on giving! I mean getting to watch him spread his legs out, always able to make whatever he’s sitting on look like his personal throne by the way he carries himself and lounges…talk about always wanting to hop in his lap

Like why am I already salivating thinking about watching him get so hard, hanging nice and heavy in front of you to do with as you please

He would love the compliments too, all your sultry sounding comments about how he’s just so big your hands are already full with him and how you can’t wait to taste him as you press your lips to his balls knowing you’ve had him breathing hot and heavy from the jump

He’s goddamn flattered and won’t apologize for the ego boost he’ll walk around with the rest of the day thanks to you!

The way his sack tightens when you pop them into your mouth and gently suck, I just have a feeling he would love the sight alone and helppp the groans yes you’re righttt, throwing his head back, his hips rocking into your touch, seeking the swipe of your tongue over his skin, yeah the need for this is so great bestie

this pic of him actually brings me to my knees like i know we see the spread! 🥵😵‍💫🤧

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

"Bringin' Home the Rain" - Part One - Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Chapters: 5 Word count: 25.4K (Complete!) Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Masturbation, Smut, Smutty Smut, The Smutty Kind of Smut, Smut With Accidental Feelings, PWP, But Also A Bit of Plot, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Teasing, Oral (M! Receiving), Reference to Predator/Prey, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom, Hair pulling, Begging, Finger Sucking, Spanking, Nipple Play, Oral (F! Receiving), Cock Warming, Mild Size Kink, Daddy Kink (Chapter 5), Unprotected PIV, Rough Sex, Creampie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Dom, Aftercare

A/N: Well, here I am with my first foray in the fanfic writing in almost two decades!

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go since I do have plans beyond this, and while this part can still function as a standalone, I'm currently working on a part two in what is now a series (which I have mostly figured out)! More updates on that as I chip away, but I'm hoping to be able to post Chapter One in the next few weeks!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 😊

[Masterlist - Part Two - Salvation is a Deep Dark Well] ✨ [AO3 Link]

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and and Butchers

Chapter One - "Storm" - 2.8K

Chapter Two - "Tides" - 2.8K

Chapter Three - "Demons" - 5.9K

Chapter Four - "Flame" - 5.1K

Chapter Five - "Foundations" - 8.8K

[tarrenterror25]

(tho)ugh(ts) no one asked for but my mind has no mouth and must scream

Alfred Pennyworth and Ulysses Klaue doing Shibari/Kinbaku Word Count: 1.3K Rating: E 18+

Tags: images and mention of the following: shibari, bondage, restraints, pain play, (bd)(sm) themes, light degradation, F!Reader, smut, aftercare

Some helpful info before we continue (I am by no mean an expert in this field): - Shibari is the art of rope tying and is about the aesthetic and form of the person being tied and Kinbaku takes it in a more sen(s/x)ual direction.

Here is a neat article for some info and context on the art! Kinbaku @ Museum of Sex There’s a short interview with Hajime Kinoko, a rope artist, and he gives some insight into the emotional depth of the art. Here’s another that touches on why people do shibari: What Is Shibari - Women’s Health

Years ago, I was lucky enough to see a shibari/kinbaku performance/demonstration and it really is truly a beautiful art!

Alfred and Klaue are like opposite sides of the same coin so that’s why this has both! Don’t ask what brought these on cause I’m not even sure myself.

!!! Mind the tags !!!

May contain triggering content

Last chance

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred loves when you allow him to play to his more dominant side, but he is still soft with you. He loves the art and how tying you up nice and pretty brings you closer to each other. The trust you place in him to never go past your limits, but the encouragement you give him to test your limits is very attractive to him and a turn on.

He is big on you playing just as much a part in this as him. He loves communicating with you about the color of the rope you want or what kind of ties you want to try.

Alfred favors symmetry.

He likes to do intricate knots/ties and loves to appreciate how they shape you. He understands that some of them might be uncomfortable so again, big on communicating with you.

“How’s this, darling?” “Let me know if it’s too much.”

He’s not one for the suspended looks, much preferring you in positions that require you to be lying down or on your knees. Some ties he favors are the mermaid tail, loop chain stockings, arm binder, peach shorts, and he loves weaving designs like flowers/hearts/stars whenever he can.

For some of the more intricate work, he’ll have to put on his glasses. It’s a treat to watch his hands nimbly weave the rope. This time will be used to casually chat about your day or joke around. Alfred makes sure it is a fun and lighthearted experience for the both of you.

Alfred definitely appreciates the way you look all tied up, he loves to run his hands over your body feeling where the rope squishes out your flesh. He’s constantly praising you throughout the process.

“You look so lovely like this, darling.” “You’re doing so well for me.” “Look at you, tied up beautifully for me, like the gift you are.”

Alfred isn’t really one for fucking you this way, he really likes you to be a more active participant; he loves feeling your hands on him too much. If you insist then he’ll rearrange the ties so they are more suitable. The ties while he takes you serve more for fashion over function so they won’t bind you or restrict movement, they just look pretty.

But they are good for grabbing onto! Whether he’s taking you from behind or if you’re on top, he grabs the rope wrapped around your waist/hips/ass and uses it as leverage to fuck you deeper.

Alfred’s safe word for you to use is “subsisto”, latin for “stop” or “halt”.

After a session or if you use the safe word, Alfred will carefully remove your bindings. A bath is in order and he’ll take this time to assess your body as he’s very nervous about the possibility of visible harm done to you. He keeps a first aid kit for you guys handy with salves that he massages into your skin where the ropes were.

Alfred is very susceptible to dom-drop. You’ll need to give him proper aftercare as well! Feedback versus praise is the one that makes him feel much better since it sounds more sincere. Your honesty with him will comfort him.

“I really liked when you...” “Maybe next time we try __ instead?”

Let him take care of you. Thank him for his efforts during aftercare with affirmations that you’re okay and he’ll feel much better.

“Thank you.” “I appreciate when you...” “I’m doing much better now, thank you.”

Physical affection is also a must for Alfred; hugging, holding, snuggling, cuddling him will help come back down out of his head. Doing an activity together afterwards helps him shift back to reality.

Ulysses Klaue

This process is definitely a power play for the two of you to emphasize your submissive side and his dominant side. Where one might expect him to be harsh, he’s very passionate about the process.

Klaue makes most of the decisions, but runs them by you first. You can make your suggestions as you see fit and he’ll always consider them in practice. Your words do not fall on deaf ears!

“I’ll tie it differently then.” “We can try something else instead.” “What about this way?”

Klaue loves asymmetry.

He prefers the form and shape your body takes on over the pattern of the rope. He definitely loves the purpose and function of the ties versus the fashion of them. This means he loves suspending you, loves to get a full view of your body spinning for him. There’s something beautiful about you allowing yourself to be at his mercy. Seeing your legs tucked awkwardly and arms bound, like he’s captured you, stopped you in time right in the midst of pleasure.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” “You’ve no idea how hard it is to keep going when you look like this.”

Some of his favorite ties are chest harness ties, frog ties, waist harness with cuffs, Hojojutsu Capture, and face ties.

The positions he’ll have you in are uncomfortable, but he’ll never do more than he know you can take. It’s also arousing to watch him work at these heavy duty ties, his muscles flexing when he pulls on the rope to suspend you. It’s freeing being in mid-air in such a comprising position where most people, when they’re exposed this way or hanging mid-air, have a tendency to hide.

Klaue is into pain play.

There are no surprises, of course, everything is planned out accordingly. You have complete say in what is used and to what degree. Klaue isn’t interested in the inflicting actual pain so much as he is interested in the dynamic of it. He also likes watching the effect it has on your skin, how warm/red it gets from the sensations he’s inflicted.

Klaue loves to tease you and lightly degrade you while you’re suspended or tied down; feathery touches over your breasts and cunt, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and eventually slipping two fingers inside of you, pumping them until you’re squirting.

“Oh, look at you squirming, just begging for me to touch this pretty cunt.” “Silly girl, just can’t wait ‘til I’m inside you, can you?”

He doesn’t fuck you while you’re suspended. He’ll bring you down for that. Definitely loves to keep you restrained while he fucks you. He also loves to sit back in a chair with you bound on your knees going to town on his cock; his hand twisted in your hair guiding you to take him further into your throat.

Klaue’s safe word for you to us is “Cuttlefish”. Man’s got a sense of humor and it’s not going anywhere. (You cannot change my mind on this, it is locked IN.)

For aftercare, Klaue likes to remove the bindings carefully and slow, caressing your body as the ropes loosen and fall off your form. He kisses your body where the ropes were and kisses your lips affectionately to bring you back from the scene. He holds you and snuggles you until you’re feeling well enough. He brings you plenty of water and snacks. (We all saw that candy bowl on his desk in AOU and he’s got a belly, you can’t tell me he doesn’t keep snacks on hand. It is locked IN.)

Klaue is not always susceptible to dom-drop, but he will drop hard and become apprehensive at seeing visible marks on you. His mood will swing drastically and he’s gonna be angry, not at you, just in general he’s in a bad mood. He likes to be coddled and doted on to help bring him out of this; lay his head on your lap or on your chest while you run your hands through his hair and say some general support and affirmations.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” “You did really well. I enjoyed it.” “I love how you keep me safe during our sessions.”

He’s a big boy who seems mean, but he’s also a big baby.

~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed this blurb! 💕

This is all based on information I know and my understanding, again I do not claim to be an expert.

Here’s a link to a page that has the ties mentioned and more for visual reference! Shibari Academy

[citrus-moonlight]

Starting out the year by reblogging something I've been meaning to for ages, and which lives permanently lives in my brain.

First of all, it's so sweet to think that you were inspired by anything I wrote! Your writing is stunning and I admire you so much! I knew this was going to be incredible and right off the bat Klaue has me in his grip, with how you described him and how he catches her off guard and drives her crazy because he makes it clear he doesn't care about the status quo.

I love that they're already a bit on edge, already having been thinking about each other, and now he's losing his willingness to dance around it, and oh lord the predatory spark he exudes so perfectly when he finally lets her know what he wants. It would be so hard not to give in and just melt immediately.

He’s undeterred, moving closer. Stalking almost, two smooth steps with rolling shoulders, fingers touching down on your desk, framing your hips. It had your mind wandering again, resisting the urge to arch into him, to close that small bit of space between you.

And oh my god the tension that builds once they're in the booth, I love that she leans into his touch when he's distracted, and he still focuses and gives her what she wants, and then his "Wanted to see if I could make you come, right in front of him”?? Oh my god. And this detail just lodged itself in my brain, it's so tactile:

A fingernail catching under the edge of your panties, your own fingers gripping his arm in anticipation.

Please, Jess, I was barely breathing the whole time, this man is going to kill me and he's barely gotten started. 😩

When they're finally alone and can just lean into each other, I love how he spins her on the table to move her where he wants her, and makes her hold up the dress. He's so perfectly filthy, and such a damn tease, that mocking tone of voice is so infuriating and so Klaue.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to last that long,” He mock-sighs, the words almost wistful. “You feel like you’re about to come all over my fingers.”

Ok. Ok. Ok. Then there's this part, and I cannot tell you how feral it has made me:

Instead, his nose drags against the column of your neck. The thumb resting on your skin twitching, where he can feel your heart hammering beneath. A groan, as his lips ghost against the hollow under your ear. A shiver running through you, at the tender contact. His voice coming after, pitched low. Almost a growl. “Oh, I’ll let you come again.” He tells you, “And this time, you are going to thank me.”

The way my jaw dropped and I just stared at the wall for a minute, because holy shit the "you are going to thank me" fucked me up. Calling back to her denying him earlier and so pleased with himself that he's going to get what he wants, now (it still pops into my mind on a regular basis - it doesn't just live rent-free in my head, it's brought in roommates and completely redecorated).

God, he makes me so crazy!

A pleased tone to his words, as he sighs, “Greedy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

And, oh:

“But listen to how sweet you are now.” His voice goes honey-smooth, as he coos, “Just needed my thick cock, is that it?”

And then coming into her panties??? Oh my god. I'll be fine, I'm just going to make strangled noises in the corner for a bit. 😂 All of this was so mind-blowingly good, I could ramble on and on and there so many things that I could quote as favourites, the man is filthy and this was so good! Thank you so much for blessing us with this, I was so excited to see that you were writing Klaue (I was waiting with bated breath since you shared the bit with the cherry), and you wrote him so deliciously, I am in love!! 💕

— kitten’s got klaue(s)

ulysses klaue x f!reader

rated e - 7.6k

Tags: fun filth, flirting, annoyance-to-lovers, mention of alcohol, masturbation, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, sub/dom elements, fingering, one pussy slap, light choking, brief oral, dirty talk, soft sort-of degradation, rough sex

A/N: this is a request from ao3! And so inspired by the amazing Klaue fics by @tarrenterror25 and @the-eyes-of-andyserkis - please check them out! 💕

“Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

(You can’t stand him. So why can’t you stop thinking about him?)

He drove you mad.

You hated how he always seemed to press your buttons, wind you up. With everyone else, you were professional, and they returned that courtesy.

They’d meet you in clean-cut suits, never daring to let their eyes drag down your form like his did. Showing up to your meetings with a cocky grin and a wink - wearing khaki shirts that were half-unbuttoned.

Teasing you. Stepping a little too close, letting his voice lower until it was rough, husky rasp and you were imagining him saying other things to you, instead.

As if it wasn’t hard enough to negotiate, to keep your wits about you. Ensuring the family business was kept running smoothly.

Klaue was a wild card.

But he got you the things you needed, things that no one else could.

Unable to help dangling them, with narrowed eyes and a curving smirk, before handing them over.

Tonight, in your private office, he lets his hip bump yours. His chin sweeping against your shoulder as he opens the metal case. Letting you check through it, though you can feel the brush of his chest against your back with each breath, smell the sharp curl of his cologne.

Pointing out the details as you nod, noting with satisfaction that he’s managed precisely what you’re looking for.

All that was left was to agree to a price.

“It will do,” You sigh, putting on a show.

Turning, until you’re facing him. His hands shove into his pockets then, the shirt pulling tight across his chest.

His brow quirks, and your head tilts, “What are you looking for it?”

“Half-mil.”

You scoff at his answer, the sound sliding from your throat before you can stop it. A mark deepening between your brows, as your lips purse, “I thought you told me four.”

“I’ve told you a lot of things,” He shrugs, his eyes glittering, “You’re not the only one looking for this. Price’s gone up.”

It’s a bluff, you think.

Your eyes scan his, the sharp chips of bright blue. Down to the crisp white of the dress shirt he wears today. A loose tie that matches his eyes - a vest a few shades darker.

His jacket missing, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink on his arm - showing that he’s not like them. He’s his own man, not constrained to stuffy suits, pointed leather shoes.

Your fingers lift to his tie, tracing the knot. Carefully straightening it, before smoothing it down against his chest. It’s a soft attempt to gain the upper hand, to distract him - letting your eyes sweep over the flash of his tattooed sternum, the curl of grey-flecked hair peeking out.

“Four.” You repeat, an upward tilt of your chin, until you’re meeting his gaze again.

Where he’s watching, with half-lidded eyes. Curious and amused, the peek of his tongue as he wets his lips.

A long pause, a moment where you hold your breath - waiting for his answer. Before it comes, sliding through his lips with a grin.

“Fine.”

The two of you shake on it, biting back your own smile - your hand dwarfed in his. Trying not to think too much about it, the pressure of his grip, his thick fingers.

"There now. Aren't you going to thank me?" There's a lilt to his voice, the slight sweep of his thumb against the back of your hand.

"Thank you?" Your answering laugh is a short, derisive thing, "For accepting the price we had originally agreed upon? I don't think so."

You haven't thanked him before, and you certainly weren't about to start now.

He grins with a shrug, as the handshake lingers for just a moment longer - until your hands drop, and you’re closing the case. The money will be wired over tonight, the item shipped out in the morning.

Your job here is done.

But Klaue still hovers, arms crossed over his chest. Displaying his thick forearms, his hip pressing into the sturdy table.

Silently watching, until that glint in his eye is back. Until he’s asking, “Are you looking for anything else tonight, princess?”

The words drawn out, a suggestive lilt to the end. His little nicknames should probably make you bristle - a jab at your put-together veneer. But instead, his words make your stomach flip, butterflies taking flight.

You frown, “I didn’t ask for anything else.”

“I was thinking along the lines of dinner.” Klaue clarifies, before his voice lowers conspiratorially, “I do I love eating out.”

His tongue pinches between his teeth as he smirks, the look hungry. Amused with himself, how he flusters you so easily.

“I’m, um-” It’s difficult to find words, to tear your eyes away from his mouth. Even harder still, not to read into his words - to imagine hands pushing up the hem of your pencil skirt.

Wondering if he’d sink to his knees for you, right now.

What that hair would feel like, as your fingers wrapped in the curls and tugged. If you’d find out just how sweet his tongue is - even with security waiting right outside the door, ready and waiting to escort him out.

You think he would. His devil-may-care attitude has gotten him further than most, this would be nothing. It’s almost… thrilling.

Finding your voice, you finish lamely, “-I have another meeting, after this.”

He’s undeterred, moving closer. Stalking almost, two smooth steps with rolling shoulders, fingers touching down on your desk, framing your hips.

It had your mind wandering again, resisting the urge to arch into him, to close that small bit of space between you.

“Drinks then?” The gold in his teeth glint off the low lamp light as he grins. His voice lowering again, smooth as silk, “Or we could just cut to the chase, and go back to mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness. Always circling with looks and teasing words, the slightest of touches, never a direct offer like this.

And god, it was tempting.

But the push-and-pull had always been a game you both played - you were not one to start agreeing so easily now.

“Inappropriate,” you murmur, but all he does is laugh.

His arms move then - spreading out wide.

Stepping back as he grins.

“Oh, princess. Are you going to tell daddy what a bad man I am?,” He challenges, “Go on then, call your dogs on me.”

Your lips are parting, his words doing something to you. A warmth curling in your stomach - stealing your words and your sharp tongue.

His look is knowing, “I thought so.”

The smug tone to his words being you back. Giving him your own look - annoyed and amused and oh so very curious.

A beat, before you ask, “Which bar?”

“The Andromeda.” The look in his eyes soften, along with his smile, “No business darling, just pleasure.”

You knew the place. It was new, trendy. Expensive, and you wonder if he’s trying to impress you, or if it was a genuine attempt to take you somewhere nice.

It was also popular with a number of your clients.

You consider him for a long moment. Before you surprise yourself, the words sliding from your tongue, “How about Neon Blue? 9pm. Less prying eyes.”

“Excellent,” Klaue smiles, and it’s a little different than others he’s given you. Missing a sardonic edge - almost as if he really is pleased.

“It’s a date, princess.”

You don’t know why you spend so much time primping. Still unable to believe that you had spoken up, agreed to meet with him.

But part of you knows why.

You’re curious.

Wanting to know what he’s like. To give into the silver-tongued compliments. See if the innuendos and insinuations are as accurate as he’s hinted at.

Because there’s no illusions to your meeting. An intent to his invitation, a clear resolution to the evening.

He’s a mercenary, an arms dealer.

God knows what else.

But tonight, you don’t really care about that. You’ve been circling each other for months, and there’s something freeing, knowing what he wants.

No strings attached. Just one night.

It was a win-win. Either you had a good time, and your fingers were crossed that it would be good - or if it went poorly, at least you’d stop imagining him late at night, when you were alone.

Wondering, replaying certain phrases. The looks he gives you, the ones you give in return. Gasping into your pillow, eyes screwed shut as you imagined your fingers were thicker. Longer.

You get to the nightclub early, sneaking out to take a cab instead of letting one of the drivers take you.

Thinking you’d scope the place out, find a nice little corner. A place to watch and see if he’ll really show up.

When you get inside, it’s already full. Rows of deep leather booths and glossy tables on one side. The light turned down low, a hazy blue. White neon script flashing with the music - some club tune you don’t recognize.

Furtively glancing around as you move deeper. Scanning the crowd until you land on a pair as bright as the namesake.

He’s already here. Already waiting.

A broad hand cupping his chin, just watching. A lazy grin, a crook of two fingers when you start to move his way.

Stepping out of the dark corner booth, letting you shrug off your fuzzy winter coat. Folding it in the corner as you slide in, and he fits himself in right next to you.

A waitress stops by a few minutes later. Dropping off a short glass with elaborate cuttings, filled with an amber liquid. A taller one - pretty and garnished with a bright red cherry, a little umbrella.

She beams at him as he slips her some extra cash, a wink. You try not to think about why your stomach flips, as he passes you the glass.

“How did you know what I drink?” You ask, peering down, into it. An exact replica of your usual, the same fruity tang when you take a sip.

His eyes are dark, watching. Another one of those smiles, the glint of his gold teeth, “I make it my business to know everything.”

Enigmatic. Infuriating.

Part of you should be concerned that he knew - but you knew how this world worked. How knowing and secrets were collected, used.

Instead, it has you interested. That he took the time to find this out about you, to order it in advance for your arrival.

“Well,” You allow, fingers tracing them stem, "I appreciate it."

He looks pleased, his eyes swooping over you, lingering, “You look beautiful. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up.”

Your eyebrow arches, a low weight starting to warm in your belly, “Why is that?”

“You work too hard.” He comments idly, “Did you eat before you came here?”

It feels like a genuine question, his words holding none of the humor or sardonic edge that usually laces it. But it’s the first part that captures your attention, as you decidedly ignore the second.

“I didn’t know you were privy to my work schedule.” Your elbow presses into the glossy table top, your palm propping up your chin.

Angling yourself to look at him. Watching as he takes a drink from his own glass - the way his head tips back, the flex of his neck as he swallows.

All that skin, disappearing down to the buttons popped on his white dress shirt. The peek of hair and dark shadow of his tattoo - the tie discarded sometime between before and now.

You wonder what it looks like, the ink that swirls across his chest. You’ve only gotten glimpses of it. Wondering where else those tattoos spread.

Eyes flicking away when his hand drops, not wanting to be caught staring. Still catching the peek of his tongue as it swipes over his lip. A low hum, before he answers - a tilt of the glass in your direction.

“You answer my emails in the middle of the night.”

It’s not the answer you’re expecting. It throws you off balance, as you scramble for a response, “You travel constantly. How would you know what time it is here?”

The curl of his smile is knowing. Ignoring your question like you had his, as he copies your pose. Fingers stroking the edge of his beard.

“It’s always made me wonder, princess. Would you say it’s your work ethic?” He muses, before he leans closer, his voice dropping, “Or have I just made that much of an impression?”

You scoff, eyes rolling away. Focusing on your drink instead, head dipping to catch the straw - take a long sip.

“Why did you ask me to meet you then, if you know how busy I am?”

He sighs, then. Fingers drumming on the tabletop. A ruse, as his lips part - tongue brushing over teeth.

“Thought you could use some good stress relief.”

You scoff, “Is that right?”

An eyebrow cocks - that smile back,“You’re the one up at 4am, sweetheart. You tell me.”

Your eyes lock for a long moment. Flustered by the attention, not quite sure how to play this game.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

You muster up an answer, trying to match his cryptic answers, “I give you the same attention I give everyone else.”

“Is that right?” Klaue’s head cocks, a shift as his spread thigh brushes yours.

Too close, in this cramped booth. It has you distracted, watching the roll of his shoulder as his arms slings along the back of the booth.

“Who did you meet with after me, then?” He asks conversationally, as you suck the last of your drink through your straw, “Who else is so worthy of your time?”

Your eyes flick towards him, considering your answer, “I thought you said this was pleasure, not business.”

“I find that they have a tendency to mix,” His drink swirls in his glass, his eyes on yours as he tastes a long swallow. Your own drawn down to his mouth as his tongue peeks out to pass across his lower lip.

“Though, if it’s pleasure you want…”

You cut him off, with a little cock of your head. Fishing out a name just to see what he would say. A way to tease him back, even if it’s small.

“What if I said it was with Tony Stark?”

The grin on his face turns sharp, his eyes narrowing - calculating. A slight edge to his voice when he answers, “I didn’t know you did business with Stark.”

With Stark. With his shiny cars, and tailored suits and well-known playboy reputation.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“No.” Klaue scoffs - though he’s watching you.

He’s thinking about it, as his eyes jump between yours. Down to your mouth. Down, even further.

Amending his answer, with his gaze fixed on where one of your thighs crosses over the other - the expanse of skin where the short fabric pulls.

“Only if you let him taste you before I got the chance.”

They rise then, his look heated. Your own matching his, as he leans even more into your space.

Daring you to close that little gap between you. It would be so easy, to take what you know you both want. To tip your mouth up to his, to finally find out what it feels like.

But - you can’t deny it. That you want him to come to you.

So instead, your fingers dip inside the rim of your glass. Fishing out the cherry - letting him watch the way your lips curve around the plump fruit. Before you tug on the stem, a soft moan at the sweet taste.

His exhale is rough, a low noise in his throat as he leans forward. A wide hand cupping your jaw, the drag of his thumb across your lower lip, left glossy from the cherry.

Before your eyes flutter closed, and his mouth presses hungrily against yours.

You groan into the kiss, the brush of his tongue as you let him in. Months of tension finally snapping, as a spark ignite in your belly. Fingers reaching for him, grasping at a sleeve, anything you can reach.

Klaue leans into you, his hand tilting your jaw up to him. Pulling back the smallest bit so he can see how your eye lashes flutter, a grin as his other hand curls around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your hand on his sleeve sliding to brace against his broad chest.

Only breaking to suck in a breath, lips kiss-swollen as you glance up at him from under your eyelashes.

To where he grins with half-lidded eyes of his own - the bright flash of something cherry-red between white teeth, before he bites down.

Stolen right from your mouth, with a hot swirl of his tongue.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your words coming out soft and breathy, “I wanted that.”

He laughs, a rough sound that makes goosebump raise on your skin - making you want to kiss him again. Words low and slow and he leans in.

“I will get you more.”

His lips brush yours.

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

Kissing you again, tasting of whiskey and candy-sweet cherry.

Crowding you towards the back of the booth, in the dim corner. A hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you close - the other bracing against the edge of the table.

Your own wandering, brushing over a thigh, across his chest. Finding the deep cut of his open shirt, fingers slipping over ink and grey-peppered whorls of hair.

He licks into your mouth and you sigh - fully giving into him now. Wanting to feel his press of his bare fingers against your skin. Wanting to trace every inch of his tattoos - find out just where they go when they disappear under his shirt.

A brush then, of fingers. His grip loosening on the table, tracing a pattern against your knee. Curling against your thigh, his thumb sweeping across sensitive skin as your legs seem to nudge wider on their own.

His groan is filthy, deep and rasping. A slow inch of a fingertip just a little higher, towards where you’re aching and molten.

It’s dark, in this corner. The lights dimming as the evening goes on. You think you’d let him, in this moment. Let him touch you the way he’s thinking, with that teasing sweep of his fingers. A mutual testing of the water.

A dark look that passes across his face, when the kiss breaks. The tilt of his head, as he considers you - his fingers still firmly fixed in place.

Your lips part, but a voice interrupts you.

A man, calling out his name with a crisp familiarity. Klaue’s head turning, a short greeting barked out.

An impatient twitch of his fingers, the chill of his rings pressing against your thigh.

Against his will, he is pulled in. Unwilling to make a scene in such a public place, not with you in tow. It’d be different if it was in his office - over the phone. The man never would have stood a chance, then.

You wait, one minute sliding into the next. His thumb resumes its sweeping after one more, slowly inching upward.

Just brushing where you need it, where your heartbeat thuds.

It’s then, that you get another idea.

Your coat tucked across your lap, as if you’re cold. Not unusual, with the weather outside - all whipping, icy winds through the tall glass skyscrapers.

One more minute before your hand is slipping beneath. The nudge of your thighs as they widen just a little more. The press of your fingers as they map his.

Bringing him to bridge that final gap, a stifled moan when you push his palm to cup the heat of your cunt.

His hand freezes, for the briefest second. All four fingers curving against you, brushing against that pretty fabric, the heel of his hand nudging against the spot that seems to throb.

Just catching a sharp inhale of breath, a tightness in his shoulders. Before his fingers twitch - the slightest pull back so the tip of the middle strokes across your clothed slit.

Pressing against the fabric that you know he can feel is damp. The twitch of the others as they brush that overlap of warm skin and the cut of the elastic.

Each movement achingly slow, winding you up further. A fingernail catching under the edge of your panties, your own fingers gripping his arm in anticipation.

Almost dripping at the thought of his fingers sinking into you, right here. For him to feel how wet he’s made you, how easily it would be to fill you.

Thrilled with his split attention, knowing it’s more on you than the man’s questions, with the constant press and circle of his fingertips.

It has your eyes - your thoughts - drifting, as his touch continue. The lazy sweeping press against the soaked fabric. Swirling in soft circles as you feel yourself clench.

Unable to help the shift of your hips into his hand. Increasing the pressure, eyes unseeing as you lean into the pleasure, the secrecy. Both of them fueling the fire that roars in your belly.

The fingers pause for the briefest second. Pulling back - before landing a soft tap right against your cunt.

It makes you jerk - thighs pressing together as a spark arcs up your spine. Trapping him against you as your eyes flash to his.

Catching the curl of a smile and a heated look from the corner of his eye.

You think you can read it. The expression on his face.

“Behave.”

Or, perhaps it’s - “Eyes on Me.”

Yes, that seems more likely. Wanting your focus fully on him, taking what you had asked for.

So, you lean into it. Into him, that heavy bulk of a thick arm. The muscles flexing as you wraps yourself around it, with each press of his fingers.

The one that used to have tattoos - now replaced with dark seams that travel and split down his forearm.

A story that you haven’t been told before, but had heard whispers. Clinging to him like a second skin.

Leaving you to wonder, as your chest presses against him. The fingers of your other hand tracing over the deep crease in his trousers, where hip meets thigh.

Muscles tense under your fingertips.

The conversation now wraps up quickly. Funny how that is, as you stroke a path that slowly moves inward.

Those bright, hungry eyes back on yours the second the man turns.

Your low sigh, as your chin presses into his shoulder, “Thank god. I thought he’d never leave.”

At that, he smiles. White and gold and sharp, his eyes sweeping down to where you press against him.

“I was hoping he’d stay longer.” Klaue confesses, his voice low. Going lower - rougher - as he adds, “Wanted to see if I could make you come, right in front of him.”

His words catch in your chest, as heat burns in your face. The images flashing in your mind as his fingers twitch against the tight nub of your clit. Your thighs clenching around him as you think about it - him bringing you to the edge right there, and then crashing over.

“Is that right?” You try to match his tone - daring him, “Is that all you wanted to see?”

His grin sharpens, and his fingers leave you. Pulling up, before passing over his mouth in contemplation. As he inhales the scent of you, after.

“No. Not just that. And not here,” Klaue rasps, “Come with me.”

You let him take your hand as he slides from the booth. Hauling you up easily, as your coat tucks under your arm. Guiding you in front of him, as he ushers you towards the dark hallways in the back.

The thudding reverb of the music matching the one between your thighs. The press of him, hard and curving, against your ass every time you have to wait - pausing for people getting out of their booths.

The fingers on your hip pinching, squeezing. Letting him move in front as a bouncer steps aside with a nod, letting you both past.

A hand closing around your wrist again - a tug as you’re pulled into the first open room.

It’s dim as you enter - mood lighting bathing the room in light blue neon. An old disco ball turns, refracting the light in a bright glitter across the room. The back wall looking out into the city through a tinted window - framing the rounded booth beneath, the table set close in front of it.

The rest of the room blurring as the door snaps shut behind you. His hand splaying against the wall as he boxes you in - as you melt from the way he surrounds you.

A slow lean forward, as your hands brace against his chest, watching as your eyes drop to his mouth. Your own sliding shut after, as he closes the gap. Stepping into you, as his teeth nip at your bottom lip.

The slightest pinch, before he’s kissing you. Devouring you - so much more than before, at the table. Broad hands that cup your face, holding it in place. A palm that smoothes down your neck - wide enough to span the length, a thumb that rests in the hollow of your throat.

Your own hands finding thick shoulders - your coat dropping to the floor as his hips roll against yours. Teeth and tongue as the hard length of him digs into the curve of your hip, your breathing barely audible over the muted beats outside.

Hands wander again, palming your ass to press you flush against him. You own snaking down to cup him, feeling where he strains.

Klaue groans into your mouth. Pulling away with an effort, his eyes dark as you both stumble towards that rounded booth.

You wonder if he’s going to cage you in again - lay you down on the leather cushion as he stands between your thighs.

Instead, his hands are on your hips. Lifting you into the sleek top to sit. Your hands splaying across the glass as he slides into the booth proper. Hands catching under your thighs - a gentle push to spin you until your knees press into his ribs.

His eyes drag over your form, lingering where your breasts are near-level with his face - his tongue peeking out over his lower lip. Wide hands coming to trace the curve of your hips, fingertips that stroke the bare skin of your thighs.

“Didn’t know you were so filthy,” Klaue rasps, toying with the hem of your dress. The pretty fabric trapped between fingers that could tear it - you - to shreds.

Your teeth sinking into your lip as you bite back your smile. Trying to make it not seem too obvious when you shift into his touch - wanting more, as you tease back.

“I thought you knew everything.”

His laugh is rough and low - you don’t even notice the slow rucking up of your skirt, how the fabric bunches in his grip.

“I suppose not.” Klaue allows, “I also don’t know how you sound when you come.”

The wrist at your hips twists, knuckles brushing against your mound. That grin again, as a thumb strokes the silky fabric of your panties - his voice pitching low.

“But I think I’m going to find out.”

You’re nodding - eager to have his hands on you again. In this darkened room it feel easier to lean into it, into him. Into how much you really want this.

“Please.” You breathe as his head tips - his teeth scraping against your jaw. Moving towards your ear, goosebumps prickling across your skin.

His hand catches yours, dragging it down. To where his fingers tease and trace the elastic waistband.

“Hold this for me.” Klaue husks, and you’re taking what he offers without question.

The balled-up fabric of your dress. How it bunches up around your waist now, wrinkling in your tight grip. Putting yourself on display.

It feels filthy - holding it up, as he leans back in the booth to look. Fingers dragging down until they’re pressing against sticky, damp fabric.

Humming with you as you whine at his touch, feather-light as he traces you. Finding that spot like before, one that has your other hand reaching forward - curling around the back of his neck for balance. Fingers sliding over the velvet-short undercut, the strong curve where shoulder meets neck.

Pressing circles against your clit - the sensation damped by the thin layer, but the fact that it’s him, that he’s already there and touching you in a way that feels so intimately familiar - it’s an accelerant.

Your teeth clenched as you whine, the sound pitiful. Unable to escape the way he watches each and every expression. You try to match him, keep yours on those bright blue eyes, but you find your head tilting back - your eyes fluttering shut as your free hand fists in the fabric of his shirt.

A twisting and winding in your belly. Little unconscious jerks of your hips, matching the pace of his fingers. Until they’re curling - hooking around the gusset. Tugging it to the side, fingers now sliding over slick skin.

You groan, and he grins. A tug at shirt pulls him closer, until his lips are brushing against yours again. Not quite a kiss - hovering, like his fingers are.

Nudging the tip of one against your entrance. A tease, as a thumb swipes over your clit.

“So wet, princess.”

You can feel his lips move against yours. As he sinks into the knuckle, as you feel yourself clench around him. His teeth bared at the sound of your choked moan - withdrawing, only to push deeper with his next thrust.

Giving you something to tighten around, as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. Your arousal slicking up his palm as he starts a slow pace, a second teasing at your entrance before there’s the sweet stretch as he works it inside. Curling and dragging the pads of his fingertips against a spot that sends up sparks.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, as you tug again. Feeling the smile before his mouth presses against yours - letting yourself arch into him now. Chasing the slick plunge of his fingers, feeling the metallic chill of those thick rings when he presses deep.

He deepens the kiss when you gasp, when he feels the way you’ve started to go tense in his arms. A messy sweep of his tongue, drawing back to watch the pretty pinch of your brows.

“You’ve thought about this.” Klaue husks, his head tilting. Honeyed words mixing with the sticky, curling pump of his fingers - his expression knowing, “Thought about my tongue earlier, weren’t you? I could see it on your face.”

You think back to then - when he was in your office. That moment when you thought about him on his knees, that mouth of his between your thighs.

It’s almost too much. A tremor in your legs, as they try to close around him, but his hand is too broad, too strong.

He laughs then - each word enunciated, even to your hazy mind, “Tell me you want my mouth more than my fingers.”

You’re close. Each press of his heel perfectly timed, dreaming about how sweet that silver tongue would feel instead.

“I want-” You can barely gasp, “Fuck, I want your mouth.”

His lips press against your cheek, another to your jaw. The scruff of his beard as he groans in your ear.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to last that long,” He mock-sighs, the words almost wistful. “You feel like you’re about to come all over my fingers.”

The tiny part of your brain that is still functioning mourns the loss of his mouth. The barest flicker of thought before your vision starts to go blurry, the neon lights turning into streaks.

But Klaue appears merciful, after all - a hand coming up to press against your stomach, pushing your back down to the tabletop as he leans forward.

The wet, warm drag of his tongue replacing the press of his heel. A low groan right into your pussy as the angle of his fingers change, all the better to drag the tips against the spot that makes your toes.

All you can manage is a weak warble of his name, almost a warning. The sounds stuck in your throat as the room grows even more dim, each breath cut short and sharp.

“Come for me.” He growls, his lips shining with you. His voice no-nonsense, one you’ve heard him use on the phone.

It tips you over. The thudding of the music slowing and becoming dull, as you clench around him. Your release slick on the fingers that continue to pound into you, as you cry out. Both hand gripping onto him, as his lips close around your clit.

Feeling the pulse of your orgasm against the press of his tongue, until you’re left limp and boneless on that glass table.

His mouth presses against you in a lewd kiss as his fingers slip free. A wet drag of his tongue from your hole to your clit, his eyes bright and piercing as you slowly push yourself up onto an elbow.

Still breathing hard, your dress still clutched so tightly in your fist. Still hauling the fabric up to your belly, near-bare beneath. Too far gone to think about doing anything other than hanging on.

Klaue breaks the silence first, as he leans back against the bench. Looking a little less put-together as a hand rakes through his curls, buttons popped on his shirt from the way you had yanked on the fabric.

“I told you I’d give you anything.” His eyes are dark from this angle, glinting in the low light, “What do you want?”

It’s a surprisingly unselfish question. Putting the reigns in your hands. You swallow for a second, as you let your eyes wander. Still trying to find your tongue.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He grins, “We are far past that, darling.”

You can see where his thighs spread wide, under the table. The long and hard curve of his cock, straining against the dark blue fabric of his trousers. Stiff from your mouth and your cunt and the way you gushed on his tongue.

The dress drops, so you can reach beneath. A lift of your hips as you peel your panties from your legs, holding them out between you like an offering.

His fingers brush yours as he takes them.

“Good girl.” Klaue husks, tucking them into his pocket. Offering a hand that you take, as he tugs you towards the edge of the table, and then into his lap.

You start to straddle him, but his hands find your hips instead. A careful shuffle as he flips you around, a gentle nudge forward that has you hovering, elbows resting on the table.

Giving him enough room to work open his belt. To close slick fingers around his heavy cock, groaning at the contact.

His other hand pushing your dress up again. Baring you fully, the fabric bunching up at your waist.

Pumping himself as he sees where you glisten, angling himself to press the blunt head against your slit.

You whine as he slides himself against you. Just pressing against your greedy hole before drawing back, slicking a fist over the tip.

“You drive me fucking crazy. You know that, darling?” He growls, as if you were the one teasing him. As you’re the one stopping him from taking you, from burying himself in the tight channel of your cunt.

“Ulysses, please-” You whine, and he laughs at that - his hand going still.

“Oh, it’s Ulysses, now?” There’s a grin in his voice that you can hear, amused “Not just Klaue?”

Teeth sink into your lip, as you try to rock back against him. As his thighs press against your knees, holding you firmly in place.

“Say it again, princess, and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps, his fingers sinking into the curve of your ass, “Just like you want me to. Come on.”

You do. For him, you do - the first syllable barely past your lips before he’s lining himself up, and then pulling you down to meet him.

The rest of his name strings out - breaking at the end on a high moan as you impale yourself on his cock, your back arching as he fills you.

It feels like he’s in your throat, a hand flattening unconsciously against your belly as if you could feel him there, inside you.

His answering groan is filthy in your ear, a guttural grunt as you rock yourself on his lap. Broad hands gripping your hips as he coaxes you back and forth, your own gripping onto the edge of the table for leverage.

The sound of skin slapping fills the air, his breath warm against your neck. A thought flickering - a realization that you could have had this for weeks now. This morning even - the briefest vision of yourself, bent over your own desk.

A hard thrust has you moaning his name, as your feet slide against the floor - trying to find purchase. Trying to keep up the pace, as you ride him.

A plea in the way your lips forms around the letters, as a thick arm hooks around your waist. Tugging you back, pushing him flush and deep as your back presses against his barrel chest.

His hand sliding up, between the valley of your breasts. A broad palm wrapping carefully around your throat like a necklace, the pressure holding you against him. As his beard scrapes against your jaw, his voice low and silky in your ear.

“You still begging for more, even though my fingers still taste like you?” He husks, as his right hand raises.

Fingers pressing against your lower lip, until they’re parting for him. Scraping past teeth, until you’re closing around him. Sucking.

Tasting yourself, like he said.

A pleased tone to his words, as he sighs, “Greedy girl. What am I going to do with you?”

Sliding his fingers from you then - spit stringing between glossy fingers. Dropping down to tap against your clit, the tips slipping against slick skin.

Then circling slowly, as his feet plant on the floor. Using the leverage to thrust up into you - the angle dragging his cock against your walls.

A moan bursting from your chest, your hips trying to flex into his touch. But he holds you firm. Makes you take what he gives you.

The pressure of his fingers increasing, a tingling in your guts that drops low and spreads. Your nails sinking into his arm - across those tattoos, feeling the muscles tense under your grasp - but he leans into it, as your breathing turns sharp.

“Klaue.” You bite out, between panting breaths, “Ulysses, please let me-”

Half-expecting him to slow. Or stop, his laugh ringing out - just to fuck with you.

Instead, his nose drags against the column of your neck. The thumb resting on your skin twitching, where he can feel your heart hammering beneath. A groan, as his lips ghost against the hollow under your ear.

A shiver running through you, at the tender contact. His voice coming after, pitched low.

Almost a growl.

“Oh, I’ll let you come again.” He tells you, “And this time, you are going to thank me.”

The words hang. Intent to recieve what you had so denied him before. The flood of relief blocked by an urge to protest, just because it’s him, and that’s what you do.

“Understood?” Klaue presses.

You don’t know if you have a choice. Everything drawing up tight as you squirm in his embrace. The press of his fingers unrelenting. Each one winding, winding, winding.

“Oh, fuck-”

Not even aware of the words as they slide from your lips. Concentrating too much on way he’s about to make you come, with steady pound of his cock, the wet swipe of his fingers.

Your body stringing tight, the words rushed, “Thank you, thank you-”

Toes curling, as it crashes into you. Your head tipping back as you moan, pressing into his shoulder.

“Such a good girl. See how easy that was?” He coos, as his hips still. Feeling how you pulse around him, his fingers still drawing the sensations out, “That’s it, cream on my fucking cock, princess.”

It’s all muted, as your head spins. As your vision goes hazy, your limbs limp and heavy.

You haven’t come that hard in a long time. Had forgotten how good it feels to have a cock nudged deep inside you, even as he tips you towards overestimation.

Each sound you make is a little gasp. Moving with him as he nudges you forward, your elbows pressing against the tabletop.

As he manages to stand behind you - a hand planting on the glass next to your hip. The other pressing down against the small of your back to hold you in place.

“Christ, you’re pretty when you come.” He groans, with a thrust of his hips, “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Starting as a slow and lazy as you feel, working his way up as his hips snap against yours, his heavy sack kissing against your clit again and again.

Somewhere in your mind you think about answering him - an admission that you’ve thought about it, too. That there’s been nights where you stretched yourself out on your own fingers, wishing they were his.

But he fills the silence for you. With low gasps and grunts that punctuate the intoxication drag of his cock.

“How you’re always running that pretty mouth of yours. Bossing me around in your office like the little spoiled princess that you are.”

You moan, rocking back to meet the grind of his hips, your cheek pressing against the cool glass. Too far gone in the haze of bliss and the continual pounding of his cock to form words, your answers coming in contented moan.

“But listen to how sweet you are now.” His voice goes honey-smooth, as he coos, “Just needed my thick cock, is that it?”

A whine rips through your throat, a broken fracture of his name woven in. He hums in amusement, unable to stop the filth that slips from his mouth. Goaded by the way you seem to grow slicker with his voice, the way you’re starting to clench down hard around him.

“Christ, if we were there now. I’d make you scream, darling.” The words are growled out, possessive. His body curving over yours, hands molding against your flesh as his lips press against your cheek. Those wild curls tickling your ear, each breath a ragged groan.

“Let those guard dogs of yours hear how you sound getting fucked like a man like me.”

The new angle of his cock has you seeing stars. His cock slick as he ruts into you, stroking along your inner walls. Bringing you closer as the head bumps against that spongey inner spot - you think you’re about to come again and he’s not even touching you, like before.

“Please-” You whimper, your fingertips making marks against the glass. A tight winding in your belly, your eyes closing.

Still able to see the glitter of those neon light as they slowly spin, reflecting off your skin.

But all you can feel is him.

It eclipses everything else, the spark that starts a flame - catching you off guard as it rips through you. A muffled half-laugh that you dimly register comes from him, as your promised shout is drowned out by the club beats.

A tight pulsing, as your thighs press together. Klaue’s praise gritted out in your ear as his thrusts turn sloppy - pleased and possessive and winding throughout the flicker of thought that still remains in your head.

“Fuck. Look at you, coming again.”

“That’s my good girl-”

And all too soon he’s pulling from you - leaving you empty. A split second as he yanks the panties from his pocket, wrapping it around his cock as he spills messily into the gusset.

His chest pressed against your back, as he stains the fabric, each pulse of his cock leaving him leaking into the gift you gave him. Grinding himself against the spot that’s still wet from your cunt.

That arm wraps around you again, as he sits back. Tugging you onto his lap, as your head tips against his shoulder, his hand splaying across your belly. A deep breath of contentment that matched you own, and you’re both brought back down.

An eyebrow quirking when you give him a look - your underwear still curled in his free hand. A smile, then - glinting, again.

“Didn’t think you wanted me dripping out of you.” It’s almost gentlemanly, as he shifts beneath you. His cock still pressing against the bare curve of your ass, his trousers pooled around his thighs - before he amends, “Not here, anyways.”

You don’t tell him, but you wouldn’t have minded. A little shiver at the thought of how it would have felt, to feel him - pressing tight against you, the pulse of his cock as he emptied himself into you.

“Not here?” You turn, where he’s watching - fingers tracing a pattern against your dress, “Is that an invitation?”

He growls, “God, yes.”

You can feel him twitch against your ass, still flushed and heavy.

“This was just a taste, love. I think our night is just beginning.” He coos, “Besides… you still need to have your dinner.

Klaue’s grin turns dark, as his fingers slowly start to drift down, settling between your thighs.

“And I haven’t had my dessert.”

I have been chipping away at this since December - if you made it this far, thank you so much! 🥺💖 hope you liked this!

[imaginestoinfinity]

Hell To Pay (Part 1)

I remember my little island. It was always warm, with a slight breeze that would shake the trees throughout the day. The water was as clear as a crystal and the sand was white and scalded your feet if you stood in one place too long. The fishermen sailed every morning to catch the fish for supper, and the field workers picked the fruit and vegetables-- the plantains were always my favorite, as they could be cooked sweet, or crunchy, or mashed. I would walk along the shoreline, allowing the cool water to wash over my feet. I looked up at the horizon, the sea and sky meeting at an imparting line.

"Ana!" A strong voice called. I turned toward the sound-- it came from the forest. Mother. I turned and ran to her in out hut at the edge of the forest, where the grass met the sand and the palm trees thinned out. I walked through the door and saw her dressed up her crowning day robes. She noticed me from the corner of her eye and smiled, ushering me closer.

"You look beautiful,Mama" I said, admiring the colors of her robes. Instead of the plain beiges and browns we normally wore, her dress was a palette of bright reds and blues and greens. It was the most expensive thing the owned.

She turned behind her and reached into a basket, pulling out a dress similar to hers. She turned back to me slowly, a smile spread across her face, and held the garment out toward me.

"And now you will look the same, cariña" she replied. I stood in awe, staring at the garment before me. I reached out a hand and gently stroked the fabric, afraid to even touch it. I only thought of how much it must have cost her-- she herself didn't own a proper crowning dress until she was married. I looked up at her and threw my arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly.

"Thank you, Mama" I said, smiling from ear to ear. She stroked my hair back gently.

"You're welcome, my sweet" she replied, beginning to pry my arms from around her. "Now, let's get ready".

I retrieved the dress and took it to my small room at the back of the hut, where I began to dress myself, slipping the dress over my head carefully so as to not damage it. I smoothed the fabric over my torso with my hands, adjusting the crossing straps over my shoulders and chest. I began to braid my hair, pulling it to the side and tucking any loose strands behind my ear. Mama walked in and smiled at me.

"Hermosa" she said, taking a breath in and twirling the end of my braid with her finger. I let out a breath and pouted.

"Mama, thank you for the dress, but I don't see why we have to go. It is for the new Chief. We are just commoners. What difference will it make if we go or not?" I asked.

She looked down st me sternly. "Anacaona" she said. I always knew I was in trouble when she called my by my full name.

"I named you after the great Taino chieftain herself, the reason we are all here today. I know that we are not royalty or nobility, but we still have honor and pride in our island. So, we must go" she said, turning out at the end. I dropped my head, staring at the floor in embarrassment. I felt her leave the room, but return just moments later. She held her first under my gaze and flipped it over, opening her hand and revealing a pair of gold earrings. My eyes widened and I looked up at her.

"Mama, I cannot-"

"I am not giving them to you, mijita. I am allowing you to wear them tonight, to make the ceremony a bit more bearable for you" she replied. A smirk stretched across her lips as she unclipped them and put them on me. I stroked them gently, feeling the weight pull on my ears.

"Now, let's go" she said softly, leading me out of the room. We both made our way to the center of the forest where a crowd had already formed. We couldn't even see the stage where the new Chief would be crowned. While Mama made small talk with our surrounding neighbors, I played with the children, who would be even more bored than I would. Many of the gawked at my new dress, having never seen such beautiful colors before. Mama was lucky, as she came from the wealthiest of the Taino tribes-- although it was the first to be destroyed. Many of the people from the village came from poorer tribes who were not considered of any importance.

The drums sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. The crowd all kneeled as the old Chief came upon the stage. The clave sticks echoed through the trees, exciting the coquí frogs hidden in the bushes. He raised his arms, silencing the crowd.

"Today we, the remaining descendants of our great Chieftain Anacaona, come together to celebrate the crowning of my son, Gadriel Paz, as our new Chief" he said, his voice booming in the dark around us. We clapped, some hooted, others simply remained still. I sighed and looked around the crowd, my eyes stopping at a gap in the trees, revealing the dark waves crashing onto the shore.  I longed to be anywhere but here; politics did not entertain me the way the ocean did. I looked over to my mother, who's head was bowed in respect.

"Mama," I whispered, "I have to use the bathroom".

"Hurry back" she whispered in response, annoyance written across her face, even though her head remained bowed. I nodded and quickly slipped through the crowd, keeping low to not attract the Chief's attention during his speech. I made my way to the edge of the forest, feeling the change in texture of the ground, from bumpy and grassy to soft and sandy.

I looked out across the now black ocean against the night sky, spattered with white stars. The horizon was no longer visible. The breeze was stronger now, sending a chill up my spine. I crossed my arms, rubbing them with my hands to keep warm. Deciding I would be warmer with the body heat of the crowd, I turned around, ready to enter the forest once more, when my hairs stood on end. I turned back to the ocean.

The horizon was not visible, but not because it was dark. With the slightest light of the moon, a silhouette could be made out on the surface of the water. A massive object, rectangular in shape, seemed to be resting at the edge of the reef, bobbing slowly with the waves. It was unlike anything I had seen before.

I turned to run back into the forest, ready to alert the others, when something else caught my eye. At the edge of the shore a torch was stuck into the sand, illuminating a boat. It was not one of ours. Someone else was here.

A rustle came from the trees behind me. I quickly turned and was met by a man nearly twice my size. The light from the forest behind him cast his silhouette, outlining his massive arms. He lowered a torch of his own, revealing his face in the orange glow. He was older, with tattoos scattered across his neck and chest, and one on his hand that held the torch as well. A grin was spread across his face as he kneeled down to me, face to face.

"Why, hello there darlin'" he said, his piece gruff, "what's your name?".

I was frozen in place. I managed to swallow before opening my mouth.

"Anacaona" I said.

"Well that's a mouthful. Can I call you Ana?" He asked. Hesitantly, I nodded my head, not saying a word.

"Alright then Ana. I'm Klaw".

So, this is (if you haven't already picked up) going to be a Black Panther fix centered around Klaue/Klaw, and will be VERY smutty. It'll be my first time writing smut so please, bear with me, and don't be afraid to give feedback! Let me know how to make it better.

Also posted on my Wattpad: imaginestoinfinity

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 5 of 30]

As always, Mature Content. NSFW. 

 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list. Thanks for reading and welcome new readers. You all keep me going!

If you enjoy it please, comment/reblog/ask a question/or like.

Thank you to @cherrystainedlipsbaby for translating my words into Arabic. I love the BP fandom, y’all jump in to help in a pinch!

Summary: Erik has words with Yani and later helps her in a predicament with the assistance of Tahir. Meanwhile, Klaue plots out the Angola job that makes Tahir uneasy...

"Buss a couple rounds inna me

Ah mi sniper dat

Sit dung pon di buddy like a Cadillac

He bawl out Ah mi rider dat YOW

Take off my heels

And let me unbuckle your jeans now

Meh arch ma back and bawl out

Yuh gimme heart attack Yow

My baby he know he a blessing

He know I could never forget him

I can't lie

You the best I ever had

Take me so high

Make me bawl out Ohhh

Yuh gee it to me rough then yuh take it slowww

Ah mi sniper dat…

Monéa – "Inna Di World"

Killmonger.

Yani watched him dance with Peach, an old high school friend who was always kind to Yani even when she was talking slick about her cousin Twyla behind her back. Peach had two children already and by the way she was winding her body on Erik, she probably wanted two or three more from him.

Killmonger…him smooth, yeah…real smooth as his hands circle around Peach's waist. A real dirty dancehall plays, straight nasty riddum, and Peach lets her ass do the talking for her. Erik stays with her, his left hand pressing the arch in her back and Yani is stunned to see him reach for Peach's braids and pull her head back. 

The woman is all smiles as she slows her hips down and just bounces on Killmonger's groin. And he likes it, thrusts back into Peach, and Yani turns her eyes away because she can feel her midsection quiver and her face get warm with irritation. Why does he have to dance like that in front of her? Zachary held her hips tight. She could feel his chubby erection snug against her rump. He wanted her tonight, but she was still skittish about sex with him.

Being with Chez made her lose trust with men, and no matter how nice Zachary was, how kind he was to her baby and her family, she kept him at arms-length when it came to full intercourse. She pulled away from him slightly when she felt him giving her tiny thrusts.

"Aye, Fam!" Cee Cee, their oldest female cousin squeezed onto the dance floor with Boogie, Donald, Sonya…the whole darn family crew that came to see Kendall. Junior spun an old Hip Hop joint that had her family on the floor doing something they did as children when music played, "The Swap" which was simply all of them dancing and then when Dex yelled out a cue, they would all switch partners on beat. It was fun and they hadn't done it in so long that she kept messing up when she forgot to listen for the cue which was Dex calling out "Galiber! Switch dem!"

Zachary couldn't keep up so he kissed her cheek and left for the bar, and Yani found herself becoming competitive with her relatives. She held her dress up a bit in one hand so no one would accidentally step on her hem. It got a bit rowdy when other people joined in the fun, essentially turning the family play into a line dance.

When Yani saw Peach twirling around her cousin Dulan, her eyes searched for Erik, but then Dex called out the next cue and Yani jumped to her left….

…right in front of Erik.

He had a big smile on his face when he saw her.

"Whatchu got, Ma?" he asked, and his dimples challenged her to impress him.

"Can you even hang, Killmonger?" she snapped playfully.

"Question is, can you hang? I can do this all day, girl."

The hottest Soca jam came on and the crowd turned stupid, Erik's eyes flicked around to see what everyone else was doing. The dancing became the domain of professionals now, and any tourists who thought they could keep up soon left the floor. It was Virgin Island show and prove time. And Killmonger had the nerve to still be there among them. But he was keeping up, and then some. His eyes never left hers and she felt her heart pound harder and faster. She was quite sure he could see it thumping in her chest. His hands slipped down to grip her hips.

Yani spun around and let her hips dip, the hem of her dress still clutched in her fingers, her legs shimmering with sweat. She could see Peach and another woman in a white dress with long locs swaying near them, waiting for Dex to give the signal so they could swoop in on Erik. Yani swept her eyes over to Dex, watching his lips, sweat flicking off of him, his shirt molding onto his body tight from all the perspiration pouring out of him.

"Galiber! Switch dem-!"

Yani saw the other women lunge forward, and she pushed back against Erik's groin, the weight of her backside throwing him off balance. He grabbed for her waist to counterbalance himself and the movement blocked him from switching to someone else.

Junior slowed down the beat of the music, chopping and screwing it up old-timey style until the song was like a heartbeat. Peach was hovering, her body rolling smooth like the tail of a winding Boa snake.

"I see you, Ma!" Erik called to her and Yani leaned forward, gently shaking her hips knowing her ass cheeks would bounce.

"Shit," Erik said laying the palm of his right hand on her lower back, his left hand rubbing her left hip.

Once she felt his touch, she shifted back up and bent her knees, her hips circling, hands clutching her dress tighter to outline her rump, moving just so-so until she had her cheeks jumping with nothing else on her moving. She just needed his eyes to stay on her—

"Ooh, Yani…" Twyla said.

He moved his hands.

Damn.

Erik's fingers gripped her shoulders, his waist glued to her ass and moving slow. She could feel his shaft poking through and she let the center of her cheeks grab at his dick. They were moving in tandem like they were fucking, the music setting the pace, the thin material of her dress letting him feel all of her softness…

Erik slid his hands down to her waist and twirled her around to face him.

"Nobody needs to be seeing all that, girl," he said while stroking her back, "especially your man."

Yani closed her eyes, shame filling her face.

Zachary.

This was supposed to be their night.

Erik's left hand held her waist again while his right hand eased up her side and cradled the nape of her neck.

"You were great up there. Your cousin, Kendall…he was really good too."

"He's choice, yeah?"

"Yeah."

He licked his lips and his eyes glanced around like he was looking for someone. His face moved closer to her until his lips were near her ear. She felt her breath exhale out of her mouth in short pants when she felt that scruff from his beard on her cheek again. Her neck arched back and she felt his warm rum-flavored breath tickle the shell of her ear. Her fingers slid up his arms and clasped just below the smoothness of his neck.

"Before you went off on Chez…you were singing to me, weren't you?"

A coy smile played on her lips and she tried to look away from his eyes, but he kept moving his head in front of her until she stared back at him.

"What if I was?"

"You got a man though."

"It was just a song, Killmonger. Mi play fuh dem, the crowd. Freestyle comes straight from here and out there," she said pointing to her forehead and then away from her face.

"Nah. That shit was for me. Only me."

"If you say so—"

"You were looking at me."

"I was looking at the audience—"

"You were looking straight to the back, where I was. You heard me shout to you. You ain't gotta lie. I felt that shit. You did too."

"Whatever."

"How come you wouldn't let me switch?"

"What?"

"I know you threw that ass on me to keep me from dancing with someone else. You real obvious, Ma. It's cute though."

She sucked her teeth.

"See, I know you know I'm right. Whenever you do that, I know I got under your skin. I been drinking a lil bit, but I'ma say this anyway. I like you. I don't know if I freaked you out or crossed the line when I touched you the other day, but when I didn't see you all day Friday, I thought I fucked up and scared you. But the way you sang that song…for me…I know…"

His words wandered off.

"You know what?" she asked, her fingers squeezing his neck gently.

His eyes were focused elsewhere.

"Yani?"

Zachary's voice was peach fuzz soft and Erik pushed away from her and she felt her legs automatically step forward towards him, trying to keep the heat from his overwhelming body next to hers.

"Respect," Erik said giving Zachary a sincere smile, "was just telling your girl what a great singer she is. Thanks for the dance, Yani."

She watched Erik leave the dance floor and her body felt cold and lonely without him. Zachary's hand went around her shoulder.

"You know him."

"He works for Mr. Klaue. Him and that other guy."

Yani couldn't even look Zachary in the eye, her gaze would reveal too much if she did look at him.

"Is he nice?"

"Yeah. They both are."

Yani walked away from the dance floor with Zachary. Her cousins Cee Cee and Monice drank Bushwackers and watched them approach, the whipped cream from their drinks leaving traces on their lips.

"You leavin' cuz?" Cee Cee asked.

"Are we?" Zachary said, a gleam in his eye.

Yani was going to spend the night at his place. He agreed to go at her pace, do whatever she wanted. Her eyes were still watching Erik as he sat at the bar with his friend. The woman in white already at his side stroking his back.

"Yeah, we're going," she said.

Her eyes went back to the dance floor where the rest of her relatives were still throwing down.

"Tell Kendall, I left, yeah?"

"Go on, he's high as a kite right now. Him tell you Bunny and Gregory want him to record a single?" Monice said.

"Yeah? That's great!" Yani said.

She hugged her cousins and clutched onto Zachary's arm.

Warm air greeted them outside, much cooler than the hotbox inside.

"Going to my place still?" Zachary asked.

"Yeah. But I have to be back home by ten in the morning. Auntie is going to church and Anika won't be able to stay after ten."

"So…are you…are we…"

"Easy boy…calm your pants."

Zachary grinned.

"You were choice tonight, baby. Chez…him no see you coming with guns blazing…blam, blam…"

Yani giggled.

"Him nuh ready fi mi—"

The words crumpled in her throat.

Chez and his minions were hanging out in the back of the parking area smoking cigarettes and shooting the shit.

"Here mi gyal come with that fire," Chez said. He was smiling at her, but a man like him showing teeth like that wasn't a sign of kindness.

Zachary pulled her back behind him.

"We don't want any trouble. No problems, here Chez," Zachary said.

Yani gripped his arm. Her purse was locked in Zachary's trunk. Her cell phone was in it. She debated about running back to the club to get Dulan and Dex. Or maybe even Twyla. There were three guys with Chez and only two of them.

"Who said there was trouble?" Chez said.

"Chez, just leave us alone," she said pulling Zachary along.

Chez stood in front of her.

"Whose watchin' mi pickney?"

"Sydette is fine. No need for you to worry—"

"I'll take you home," Chez said throwing down his half-smoked cigarillo. He stomped on it and grabbed for her arm.

"I have a ride home with Zachary," she said pulling away from him.

Zachary stepped forward and Chez shoved him back.

"You think yuh taking her home with you? Think you fucking my woman?"

"Would you stop?!" Yani yelled slapping Chez in the face.

"Bitch…putting your hands on me?!"

His hand shot out to grip her again but Zachary struck him in the jaw. The surprise punch only grazed Chez's chin.

"Get you some, nigga!" Chez shouted and pummeled Zachary.

"Chez! Stop it!"

She charged Chez as he held Zachary in a headlock punching him in the side of the head, but Chez's two friends blocked her. Yani reached down and took off one of her sandals and proceeded to strike both men blocking her and they pushed her back, still preventing her from getting to Chez and Zachary.

Zachary was able to get some punches in and Yani stood horrified watching her ex and next go at it. Chez had the upper hand and his third friend jumped in kicking Zachary in his side. Yani ran back to the club half barefoot.

"Goddess, why are you running?"

Erik's friend was outside smoking a cigar, the pungent odor wafting around him with the smoke.

"There are some guys beating up my boyfriend!"

The handsome Arab man followed her back to Zachary and Chez.

"Zachary!" she groaned when she saw his face cut and his nose bloody. Chez was still beating on him and Zachary was flailing to protect himself, no match for Chez and his goon squad.

"Not looking good for your man. I'm afraid," the stranger said.

"Whatchu doin' way over here…oh…damn…"

Erik strolled over with a cigar in his hand. His eyes saw the worry in Yani's face.

"Make them stop!" Yani wailed.

Erik pulled her aside while Tahir grabbed one of the men and shoved him away from Zachary.

"Hold this," Erik said handing her his cigar.

Erik strode over to Chez and with just one hard punch to the right side of her ex's waist, Chez went down on one knee gasping for air and clutching his side.

"Fuck!" Chez screeched.

The Arab man helped Zachary get up while Chez jumped back up still heaving with pain. He swung wildly at Erik who simply stepped back from the scattered non-connecting punches.

"Why don't you just stop before you wear yourself out," Erik teased before grabbing Chez's shirt, lifting him up, and slamming him against Chez's car door.

"Take your punk ass home," Erik said.

"Killmonger!" Yani yelled dropping Erik's cigar.

One of Chez's boys pulled out a gun and pressed the steel to the back of his head.

"What now, bitch?!" Chez cackled, expecting Erik to release him.

"You best use that piece before I turn around," Erik said. His eyes were still on Chez, his hands still clutching Chez's shirt.

Chez's other friend also pulled out a gun, but Erik's buddy moved like a ninja and snatched it out of his hand so quick, Yani missed Erik turning around and, yanking the gun out of the other gunner's hand hemming him up. Erik head-butted him then smashed the gun across his face. Blood spurted between the guy's fingers.

"He broke my fucking nose!"

Erik popped the bullets out of the small gun and flung them over his shoulder before shoving the gun in his waistband.

"Get the fuck on before we really hurt y'all," Erik said, his voice calm.

Chez fumbled for his car keys and Yani ran to Zachary trying to hold him up.

"Should we go to the hospital?" she asked Zachary. His eye was swollen and his nose and lip were bleeding.

"No," Zachary grumbled rubbing his jawline.

Erik and his friend watched Chez and his boys drive away before they turned to check on Yani.

"You okay?" Erik asked.

"I'm fine. Thanks for handling that. They were waiting for us…waiting fi me."

"I don't think your friend is in any shape to drive. Can you two get home?" Erik's partner asked.

Yani stared at him.

"That's Tahir, he's cool," Erik said.

"I can drive," Zachary said.

"No, you can't. You look like shit," Tahir said.

"I can't drive a stick," Yani said.

Erik looked at Tahir. Then Zachary.

"Give me your keys, man," Erik said.

Zachary only glared at Erik with his one good eye.

"Give him your keys, Zachary, I can't drive us to your place."

Yani saw Erik staring at her. She felt her face get warm.

When Zachary didn't move fast enough, Yani reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his keys. She handed them to Erik and slipped her sandal back on.

"The car is over here," she said. She held Zachary's hand as she led Tahir and Erik to his car.

Yani slid into the backseat of the little black Nissan hatchback with Zachary.

"You don't even know these guys that well," Zachary hissed in the backseat, "you could've gotten your cousins—"

"I was getting my cousins, but they were available first. Did you wahn mi waste time looking for dem while yuh getting your ass kicked all over the place?"

The words flew out before she could filter herself and she felt Zachary's whole body cave in from the impact of her words. He turned his face away from her and looked out of the back passenger window. His handsome face was swollen and his once jovial looking-eyes were sour with rage.

"Zachary…I didn't mean it like that…they jumped you. It was an unfair fight…"

"Zachary, man…listen. You did what you were supposed to do. Protect Yani," Erik said from the front seat as he backed the car up.

"Make sure you stay on the correct side of the street," Tahir said from the front passenger seat.

"I got this. Yani, which way?" Erik asked.

She gave him directions as they headed East toward Red Hook.

"Zachary, let me see your face," she said turning on the overhead light. "Turn it off!" Zachary yelled pulling away from her again.

She turned off the light and shrunk back to her side of the backseat.

"Watch how you talk to her," Erik said. Yani caught Erik's eye in the rearview mirror.

"Who the fuck do you think you are—"

Zachary didn't even finish his sentence before Erik jerked the car to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. He turned his head to look back at Zachary, his face in full scowl mode, lips parted, his gold slugs menacing in the shadowed light. But then he looked over at Yani. She felt so embarrassed and scared about what happened, and the coldness coming from Zachary had her confused and hurt. Erik's face relaxed. He stared back at Zachary.

"Look. You got caught in a fucked up sitch. Got your ass handed to you. Trust, I've been there and it sucks when your woman is there to witness that shit. But it is what it is. Don't take your beat down out on her. This ain't her fault or your fault. You were outnumbered. You should feel grateful that she's okay. You took that shit for her. Now own it and get over it, bruh," Erik said.

"Car," Tahir said drawing Erik's attention back to the road.

Yani pressed her head against the passenger window as Erik continued driving. The prick of tears formed in her eyes and she felt them roll down her face. She quickly wiped her cheeks. When she glanced over at Zachary again, he was still hunched up in the corner ignoring her.

"What do you want to do with the guns?" Tahir said.

"Minraji'un ma'na 'ala al villa. Khaleehum," Erik said.

"Rah yerja'oo yidayqu hadul al tnain mara tanyeh? Yerja'oo yedawroo lil asliha?" Tahir asked.

Erik shifted gears on the car.

"Min la'eehum ba'dain. Zyarah mufaja'a mshan ya'rfoo shu rah yeseer lahum iza daya'uhum. Lazim deer bali 'ala Yani. Yimkin abu binta yedayi'ha bisabab ma saweat," Erik said.

Yani's eyes watched Erik and Tahir speak to one another in Arabic. Erik's voice sounded concerned, and she heard him say her name in their conversation.

Erik drove Zachary's car smoothly. Tahir turned to look at her.

"I enjoyed your performance."

"Thank you."

Tahir saw her wipe a tear from her face. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small packet of tissue. He handed one to her. She took the tissue and wiped her eyelids, trying to avoid hitting her false eyelashes.

"You are too pretty to cry, Miss Yani. A Goddess does not cry. Only men cry for her," Tahir said.

Erik's eyes glanced back at her again and she turned her head away from him to look out of the window.

"Take a left here," Yani said.

"Stay on the left, Killmonger," Tahir said slapping Erik's arm with the back of his hand.

"My bad, my bad," Erik said.

Yani smiled.

"Bidak yanah nmoot?" Tahir said.

"No, I don't want us to die. Shut up. I got this," Erik said.

"Your insurance is good my friend?" Tahir said back to Zachary.

Zachary ignored them all and Yani felt the mood chilling once more between them.

"Right over there Killmonger, the orange house," Yani said.

Erik drove in front of Zachary's family home. His apartment was attached to the house.

"Do you know a good cab company that can pick us up?" Erik asked looking back at her. She wiped her eyes again to make sure they didn't look too bad. She glanced at her watch. It was two in the morning. Shit. She didn't even think about them getting back to the compound. She wished she had learned how to drive a stick. Sometimes cabbies didn't like coming to this part of Red Hook late at night.

"I can call a cab for you, but they might not come," she said.

Erik glanced at Tahir. She felt bad.

"I told you to let me drive my own damn car, Yani, now you got these guys stuck—"

"We're not stuck, we can walk," Erik said glaring at Zachary.

"We can drive to my Auntie's house and I can use her car. If you guys can bring Zachary's car back here, I can drive you back to the compound. I'm sorry for all the confusion—"

"Don't be sorry girl, it's not a big deal," Erik said. He saw her wipe her face again and he smiled at her.

"It's an adventure, we cool. Right, Tahir?"

"Cool like ice cubes," Tahir said.

"Zachary, let's get you in the house to clean up first," Yani said.

"No, let's go get the other car. I'm not letting them drive off in my car with you in it. I don't know them. You don't know them."

Yani kept her mouth shut.

"Which way to your Aunt's?" Erik asked.

She gave him easy directions glad the apartment was less than five minutes away.

When they arrived at her Aunt's place, she ran up the stairs. Her little sister Anika was wide awake watching tv.

"Why are you here? I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," Anika said.

"What is happening?" Leona asked coming into the living room, her housecoat wrapped tight, her black satin bonnet covering her hair.

"I'll explain when I get back. Can I borrow your car Auntie? Chez beat up Zachary and him hurt bad. Mr. Killmonger and Mr. Tahir helped us and I have to get Zachary's car back to his place. Mr. Killmonger is driving it and I need to give them a ride—"

"Go, go, tell me all when you get back."

Yani took the car keys to her Aunt's late model Ford Focus.

"Want mi come with you?" Anika asked.

"No, we're okay. How was Sydette?"

"You know she's a good baby," Anika said smiling.

"Be right back," she said running out of the house.

Yani drove her Aunt's car alone as she had Erik follow her back to Zachary's house.

When Erik and Tahir stepped out of Zachary's car, she watched her bruised and brooding boyfriend stalk away from her as she grabbed her purse from his trunk.

"Zachary," she said.

She ran after him grabbing onto his hand.

"I'll help get you cleaned up and then we can drive them back," she said.

"We cool chilling out here when you're ready," Erik said.

Tahir was already pulling out another cigar to smoke.

"All this driving back and forth," Zachary lashed out. His ire was directed at Yani. She shrank back from him.

"What are we supposed to do? Leave them stranded?" she said, her voice raised. Erik and Tahir heard her.

"We can take the car back ourselves," Tahir said.

Yani reached up for Zachary's face.

"Let's take care of you, okay?" Her fake nails trailed down his uninjured cheek.

"Yani," he whispered.

"I fix you up, and we take them back, then we can be together…okay, love?"

His hand reached out and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm…I'm tired. I can take care of myself…"

"You don't want me to stay with you?"

He shook his head.

A light came on in the main house.

"Shit," Yani said.

Zachary's father came outside. He had on pajama bottoms and a white undershirt.

"What's going on?" he called out.

"Everything is fine," Zachary tossed back. Mr. Harris walked down his porch steps, his large body lumbering toward his son.

"My God, Zach, what happen to your face?"

Yani stepped forward to explain, but Zachary pushed her away.

"Go," he said.

"Go?" Yani answered with a tremulous voice.

Erik stepped forward.

"Who are you?" Mr. Harris said, "you do this to my son?"

"No, Sir—"

"He helped Zachary, Mr. Harris. My ex-boyfriend started trouble—"

"Oh, so this is your fault, Yani? See, Zach. What I tell you?"

Yani felt her lip tremble.

"Yani. Let's go."

She felt Erik's strong calloused fingers clasp her hand.

"I'll take you home. Don't worry about getting us to the compound. We'll stay in a hotel around here. C'mon," Erik said.

Yani watched Zachary walk into his father's house. He didn't even say goodnight or look at her.

"Hey…Yani," Erik said.

His free hand lifted up her chin to look at him.

"He's embarrassed and his face is jacked up. Ego bruised. Let him sleep it off. He'll get back to you."

He squeezed her hand. She didn't want to let it go.

"I'll drive. Give me Leona's keys," Erik said.

She handed them over without letting go of his hand. He led her to the passenger seat. Tahir opened the door for her, then put out his cigar.

They found Leona waiting on the balcony still in her housecoat when they arrived back to the apartment.

"Auntie," Yani said.

Erik and Tahir followed her up to her home so they could relieve themselves in the bathroom before looking for a room.

"Mr. Killmonger. Mr. Tahir," Leona said.

"We'll be out of your hair soon," Erik said.

Leona gave him the biggest smile.

"They're going to find a hotel. They don't want me driving them back to the compound this late—"

"Just stay here, Mr. Killmonger."

Yani's eyes grew wide.

"Anika can sleep in your room and the men can take the couch bed. No sense wasting money for a few hours."

Tahir looked at Erik and Erik glanced over at Yani.

"I mean, if you're cool with that, we'd appreciate it. We can catch one of the island buses or cab back to the compound early," Erik said.

Yani stared at Anika who was ogling both Erik and Tahir. Yani didn't blame her. They both were too damn attractive to ignore, even after a rough night out.

"Is that blood on your shirt, Mr. Killmonger?" Leona asked.

Yani heard Sydette crying in the bedroom.

"Excuse me," she said rushing into her room and turning on the lights.

Sydette shook fists inside her crib that sat between a double bed and a twin bed.

"Hey, Sweet Pea, I'm here," Yani said.

She picked up her daughter.

"You smell so good, I wanna gobble you up."

Sydette gurgled and Yani cradled her, rocking her in her arms gently. She lifted her own arm up for a moment.

"Whew, Mommy smell ripe, Sweet Pea. Anika!"

Her sister walked into the room.

"Ohmigawd, that Killmonger told us what happened at the club. Chez really beat down Zachary?"

Yani nodded.

"And he pulled a gun?"

"His friends did."

"What is wrong with him? He is so stupid….sorry, Yani. I know that's your baby's father, but he is mean to people. And Zachary is so sweet. Is he okay?"

"I think so. He was upset—"

"How long are those men staying at the compound?"

"You can't even give two minutes for Zachary and you're already talking about them?" Yani teased.

"Dem sexy. I notice right away. They single?"

"They are way too old for you."

"Dad was way older than Mommy."

"That was different. They were much older before they had us."

"Killmonger…" Anika said, all dreamy.

"What about him?"

Anika's face went all googly-eyed again.

"You so silly," Yani said, even though she was feeling the same way after holding his hand.

She felt like she went through so many extremes. The coldness of Zachary and Chez and the warmth of Erik when he brought her back to Leona's.

"Can you watch Sydette for five minutes? I'm going to take a quick shower."

Anika took Sydette who fussed for a few minutes.

"She hungry…again," Anika said going out of the room.

Yani heard her Aunt still talking to Erik and Tahir. She grabbed clean nightwear and jumped into the shower fast. She wasted no time cleaning off, even using a cotton ball soaked in baby oil to loosen and remove her fake eyelashes. Once she felt clean and fresh, she changed into her shorts and over-sized t-shirt.

Back in her room, she took Sydette in her arms with a milk bottle Anika held.

"I'm going back to the living room—"

"No, you not. You stay in here now," Leona said.

Yani watched her Aunt's face as she stepped into the room. She couldn't read what she was thinking.

"Auntie," Yani said.

"Zachary no want you to stay with him?" she asked.

"Mr. Harris took him in the house. Blamed me."

"Samuel is an ass. Mi never like him. We talk after church when I get home?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay. Goodnight. And don't let her bother the men—"

"They are watching tv, my show. This the only time I can stay up this late and watch scary movies, and now I'm stuck in here. They not even using the couch bed. Mr. Tahir is lying on the floor with a pillow."

"Leave them be," Leona said again.

Anika hopped on Twyla's bed.

"I hear Kendall was good tonight, yeah?" Leona said.

"Him awesome, Auntie. You would be proud—"

"Killmonger say you were on stage too. Him show me video later. How it go?"

"What he say?"

"He seemed impressed. Both of them. That Mr. Tahir says you sounded like an angel."

"I do okay."

"Get some rest."

"Okay."

She heard her Aunt's bedroom door close and her little radio turn on. The soft muffled sound of gospel music played quietly. It would turn off with a timer. Her Aunt always fell asleep fast.

Anika rolled over and faced the wall, her voice still grumbling about being sent to bed.

Yani stuck the bottle nipple in Sydette's mouth. She found comfort being home and with her child. She was happy that she didn't have to explain the situation. Erik took care of everything, giving her brain time to readjust before going in-depth with her Aunt after she went to church.

Sydette drank from the bottle and Yani watched her face.

"You not sleepy yet little one, eh?"

Yani heard the toilet flush and the water from the sink running.

"Auntie?"

"Nah. Just me. Your Aunt gave us little toothbrushes to clean our liquor breath."

Erik stood in the bedroom doorway. He was wearing one of Kendall's shirts instead of his bloodied one.

"She gets those from the compound. Mr. Klaue has her buy them in bulk for the men over there."

"Hey, there she is, Lil Mama," he said watching Sydette.

Yani smiled.

"I can't believe she's still up. We had been doing good with her sleeping through the night."

"She knows when Mama is gone. Waiting up for you."

Anika turned over and stared at Erik.

"Where yuh from?" Anika asked.

"Massachusetts."

"Go to sleep," Yani said, glaring at her sister.

"Nuh sleepy. I want to watch my tv show."

"Auntie told you what you supposed to do—"

"I'm sixteen. I'm not a little kid no more. I watched Sydette by myself all night. I can care for a baby, but can't sit up and watch tv? Serious?"

"It's because you are a young woman among two strange men."

"Two strange men staying inside the apartment that you invited."

"Tahir is knocked out on the floor. You can watch your show for a few more minutes if you let me talk to Yani alone," Erik said.

"Alone? Hmmm," Anika said.

Yani jerked her head toward the door.

"Okay. But if Auntie wakes up and says anything, I blame you."

Anika ran out of the room, and Erik cracked the door a bit for a little privacy.

"Okay, Sweet Pea, time to finish up. Bedtime," Yani said.

"Sweet Pea?"

"I call her that. She so round like a little pea in a pod."

"I like that better. I'll call you Lil Mama instead."

"Mi nuh little."

"I know that for sure."

Erik's eyes held hers and Yani felt nervous being with him. The kind of nervous that came with bad decisions. Poor decisions. Lack of impulse control. Something she was very familiar with when it came to men.

Yeah, him dangerous. A bad boy. And bad boys have always led her astray.

She focused on Sydette.

Erik sat down next to her on the bed, close enough so that his shoulder touched hers.

"She's cuter than I remember. Can I hold her?"

Yani lifted the bottle out of Sydette's mouth and Erik picked her up and held her in the crook of his muscular arm. Taking the bottle from her hand, he placed it in Sydette's mouth and her baby girl accepted Erik as if she had always known him.

"You have experience with babies? Have kids?"

"Experience, yes. Kids? Nah. Baby cousins. I can change diapers and do their hair too," he said.

His dimples relaxed her. His eyes went to stare at Sydette as he held her bottle, and Yani's Sweet Pea stared back at him as her cheeks and lips moved to squeeze out sustenance with his help. Unlike Yani, Sydette had big black eyes, unwavering eyes, bold as a brick through a window. She had eyes that read people well, and when she liked someone it showed with her being content in their presence. She was Yani's barometer of good energy, and thus far, Erik was good enough for her daughter.

When her bottle was empty, Erik handed it to Yani and lifted Sydette up, his left palm cradling her chest while his fingers supported her chin and jaw. He allowed her to lean forward a bit as his right hand gently rubbed her back in circles.

Yani reached for a clean bib and held it next to Erik just in case something more than a burp came out. Sydette made little sounds with her mouth, her eyes looking up to watch Yani's face.

"You're being such a good baby, Sweet Pea," she said.

Her daughter gave a juicy smile with a little drool and then a loud burp came through.

"Big one," Erik said chuckling.

He leaned Sydette back in his arm and played with her right hand, her fingers grasping his and holding them. Yani wiped the little bit of drool that slid down her chin with the bib.

"How often does Chez see her?" he asked.

Chez.

Ugh.

"Not much. Sometimes he stays a few minutes when he brings me money for her. And that isn't much. It's why I work three jobs."

"Three? Damn. How much time do you get to be with her?"

"Not enough."

"Were you working on Friday?"

"Yeah."

"So you weren't avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?"

"What we did, by the pool…"

"Oh."

"How you feel about that?"

"I liked it."

Her words seemed to please him. He had a grin on his face as looked back at Sydette. The baby was squealing and grasping for Erik's wrist.

"She likes you."

"She has good taste."

He pulled down Sydette's yellow t-shirt so it covered her stomach better. She kicked her bare feet in the air and Erik tickled one toe making her laugh.

"I don't understand why Chez would ignore his baby. She's adorable."

"Him have another baby-mother he stay with."

"Before you or after you?"

"During," Yani said.

"Ouch."

"My baby three months older than that other one. Some tramp him knock up while I carry Sweet Pea."

Erik played with Sydette's curls.

"He ever beat up Zachary before?"

"No. They don't know each other, not from the same circles or nothing. He's seen him before, but…no problems like tonight."

"How long you been with Zachary?"

His warm brown eyes were on her face again.

"Almost three months…talking to each other for about three months, but just now starting to date. When I have time. This was the first time I've gone out in a long ass time. Dress up y'know? And of course, Chez ruined it. Zachary won't ever speak to me again."

"You don't know that—"

"Chez had his friends pull guns on you. You think him want to be with a girl with a crazy Ex like that? I wouldn't date me after that shit."

"How serious were you two?"

"You getting all my business, Killmonger."

"I'm nosey."

"Yeah, you are."

They both laughed.

"How serious?"

"Why you want to know?"

"I told you already."

"Told me what?"

"I like you."

"You like my tits."

"Your tits like me, that's why they do what they do."

Yani felt her mouth drop open.

"You ain't answer my question yet."

"Zachary?"

"Yeah."

Yani felt Erik's arm press into hers. So much heat radiated off of him.

"How you say you like me and you just met me? You don't know me at all," she said.

Yani had to put a stop to this.

She felt herself stumbling into her old habit of falling for men she should avoid at all costs, no matter how beautiful they were. The warning signs were screaming at her: Working for Klaue. The scars on his body. The gold slugs that were shaped like big sharp cat teeth.

He was even smart enough to figure out her body's reactions to him. She was surprised her tits weren't tripping with him there on her bed.

"I know enough to know that I like you. You work hard. You speak your mind. Your Auntie adores you and supports you. This beautiful little girl in my arms that you bust your ass for…you can make iguanas move faster than a speeding bullet—"

"Funny!" she said hitting his shoulder with her shoulder.

"I like how you sing, how you try to speak standard English around Klaue but that island patois keeps popping out no matter what. The way you move when you swim…how you're looking at me right now."

"How am I looking at you right now, Killmonger?"

"Like you want to kiss me."

"Tuh—"

"Kiss me, Yani."

"What if I tell you that Zachary and I are serious?"

"Then I'd say I know you're lying, cuz if that were true, you wouldn't let me get this close to you. On your bed."

A small sigh escaped Yani's throat. His face was so near hers.

She acted willingly stupid once more.

Kissed him.

Pressed her lips into his while he held her Sweet Pea, the fresh mint of toothpaste on his breath as his tongue swept inside her mouth seeking the heat of her own tongue.

His lips swallowed hers and she let him have at it, the breath in her throat trapped making her shaky, almost faint. She pulled back from him, a sliver of saliva strung between them when they parted. Yani wiped his lips and then hers.

Erik stood up and placed Sydette inside her crib. The baby was awake on her back, but she was quiet and calm lying there. Erik knelt in front of Yani and cradled her face in his hands.

"You're not serious, right? Tell me the truth, cuz if you are, I will stop."

She didn't answer because she honestly wasn't sure.

"Yani," he said, and took her mouth again, exploring every nook and cranny and crevice, taking ownership of the moist space between her lips. She rested her hands on his shoulders, afraid to touch anywhere else. She was well aware that her bedroom door was ajar and anyone could walk in and see them.

He sucked on her bottom lip and she let her fingers trace the curves of his ears. Her lips took control of his, and he submitted, his hands traveling under her shirt. She was braless and when she felt his fingers tweak her nipples, the sensation shot down to her clit and she released his lips.

"Ooh," she sputtered, pushing back from him.

His hands continued to play with her breasts and she felt the tingly hot sensation of her milk falling down.

He lifted up her shirt and she felt his lips latch onto her left nipple, the pleasure from his sucking causing her to whimper softly. His lips and tongue were really tugging on her and she felt her milk release into his mouth.

She clasped the sides of her shirt with both hands and lifted it higher so she could watch him suck her, his mustache and beard grazing her nipple and her cleavage as he moved his face across her chest and latched onto her other nipple. Her head fell back and her knees shook.

"Killmonger," she panted, "stop…please."

He groaned and she looked back down at him as he opened his mouth and squeezed her right breast, a stream of milk squirting right onto his tongue. His head turned toward the crib as he licked his lips and swallowed.

"She's asleep, don't worry," he said looking back at her, massaging her tits, and watching pale liquid drip from her peaks.

"God…" she mumbled, her eyes unfocused, his touches leading her into a world of trouble.

The fingers of her right hand dropped down to her shorts and she fumbled with sticking her hand between her thighs…

"Jesus!" she moaned when she felt Erik's fingers passing hers inside the material and scissoring her slick clit.

"It's okay for me to touch you like this, right? Let me know, Yani…fuck you are so wet, girl…"

"Taste mi wet sugah," she whispered.

She widened her thighs for him and peeled back the crotch of her shorts.

"Fuck, Baby," he grunted, dropping his face down, his generous lips covering her vulva. She heard the loud wet kiss he gave her down there, the hot feel of his mouth knotting her stomach with nervous anticipation of being caught. The wide swathe of his tongue licked up and down her engorged folds, but then he stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Killmonger?"

He kissed her swollen lower lips again and then sat back up, bringing his face close to hers. His cheeks and beard were shiny with her slick, his eyes glazed over like hers. He shook his head like it pained him to stop.

"Shit…you so fucking sweet, Yani. I don't want to do this here. I don't want to upset your Aunt or disrespect you in her home."

"Yuh no disrespect me, man. For real. I want you to kiss me there some more…"

There was mirth in his eyes and he leaned in and kissed her forehead instead. She felt his finger graze her clit again as he fixed her shorts. She saw the obvious tent in his crotch, his thick imprint straining against his pants.

She grabbed for his neck, tried reeling him back to her hot mouth, but he clasped her hands in his.

He took a deep breath. Several actually. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead again.

Her cell phone startled her as it vibrated on her dresser. She jumped up and grabbed it before it woke up Sydette.

"It's Zachary," she said.

"You don't sound happy about that."

Erik stood up and glanced over at Sydette.

"Yellow is her color. Yours too," he said.

"Killmonger—"

"Talk to Zachary."

He left her alone with the baby.

###

She was too much.

The ride in the cab back to the compound was a quiet one. Tahir was still a bit hungover, and Erik didn't get any sleep in Yani's home. He never slept for more than three hours a night anyway, but he never felt his eyes close at all sitting on the couch in their living room waiting for the sun to rise. Tahir snored on the floor, and Erik stayed sitting upright, his balled fists resting on his thighs.

She worked three jobs.

Barely saw her child.

Had a quarrelsome and violent Ex.

Maybe had a boyfriend who couldn't protect her without getting bodied.

Lived in a household that gave her no privacy.

His jumping into the mix was not going to help her. She really didn't need three men and a baby to juggle.

And damn if she didn't feel and taste like heaven on earth. Told him to lick up her wet sugar between her generous thighs.

"Fuck. Me," he thought, watching the scenery go by as he stared out of the cab window.

Back at the compound, he took a long cold shower in his new room inside of Klaue's main house. Klaue was down on his beach swimming, so Erik had a bit of quiet time to himself. He fixed himself some plain black Kenyan coffee and scrambled eggs, wishing he had some shrimp and cheese grits to comfort him.

He wanted to go swim in the cove, but it would only have him think of Yani, and thinking of her made his dick hard. Jerking off in the shower didn't help, and his lips kept itching when he thought of sucking milk from her tits. And licking her pussy…

When Yani peeled back her shorts he got to see up close that pretty pussy with the fleshy inner labia. He'd eaten plenty of pussy in his life, seen all shapes and sizes of vulvas, clits, and inner lips. Yani's pussy reminded him of something primordial and from the sea itself, soft and ultra- slippery like the wings of a manta ray spread wide and floating free. How would those inner lips feel like if he pushed his length into her? Would they curl around the root of his shaft? Or stay open and welcoming, cushioning his heavy sack?

He was sprung and he knew it. Cursed it, but accepted it. The island lowered his defenses, but it wasn't too late to try and wean himself from her. The team would be leaving for Angola in two weeks, and distance had a way of cutting off interest for him.

He had to compartmentalize again. Shelve this girl and put his energy into Klaue and the next mission. There was a woman Klaue wanted him to check out who had exceptional cyber tech skills, fresh out of the Air Force and hungry for mercenary work. Linda. That was her name. Solid reputation. Vetted by a former colleague, but Erik wanted to vet her himself before Klaue offered her any spot on the compound crew. Some women were tricky when it came to mercenary work. They could sometimes be a hindrance, especially in certain Middle Eastern and African countries with strict gender roles. 

The arsenal they were moving was huge, expensive, and had to clear through several checkpoints before making it to their final base. They needed an ace to handle cyber subterfuge, and there was no time to waste if this Linda turned out to be a dud. Procurement of the munitions and heavy artillery had to be done for Klaue's clients soon. There was so much political instability and so many gratuitous mini-wars blossoming across the continent that money was being made hand over fist. Afghanistan was next on the list, but throughout it all, Klaue and Erik were on the hunt for more vibranium. The black-market value was at a premium. They just needed to be one step ahead of the U.S. government, the World Security Council, and some elements of S.H.I.E.L.D. Linda had better be up to the task in keeping up with Klaue who had fingers in several armament pies globally.

Erik swiped on the tv mounted inside the kitchen island counter and switched the channel to the BBC news feed.

"Tony-fucking-Stark," Erik mumbled when he saw the man speaking at a U.N. council meeting.

He sipped his coffee and watched his former mentor speak. The man had a few more grays in his hair and beard. Being Iron Man was aging him fast.

What would Tony think of him now?

Erik was a long way off from being that fresh-faced nineteen-year-old intern running around Tony in Malibu, trying to keep up with him and absorb what he could. He remembered the constant monitoring at M.I.T. and Tony's unannounced pop-up visits to Cambridge, always trying to convince Erik to forget the Navy.

"Now look at us," Erik whispered, his coffee gone lukewarm. Both on a mission to change the world.

"Still an arrogant ass no matter whose side you're on T," Erik said.

He flipped the channel to the cartoon network hoping the background animation chatter would be the white noise he needed to relax.

"Finally back," Klaue said, sliding open the side kitchen door. He tracked in sand from the beach as he wiped his arms off with a large white beach towel.

"All nighter," Erik said re-filling his coffee mug.

"I'm sure the ladies loved you two last night."

"We had an interesting night. What time do you want to start tomorrow?"

"Early…eight. Leona will fix a brunch spread so we can work through the afternoon. I want us to test some munitions on the gun range and start booking flights into Jo'burg."

Klaue stared at the scars on Erik's bare chest.

The man never questioned Erik about the markings, just like Erik never questioned the brand on the side of the man's neck. Erik already knew what that shit was. His father had taught him a bit of the Wakandan language, and he knew how to write a few words using the Wakandan symbolic alphabet. The brand on Klaue was a combination of two graphemes that when spoken issued the sound of a lowlife.

Thief.

Without knowing all the details in full, Erik knew his father's people had captured Klaue and burned his pale treacherous skin before the man escaped. Branded for life with twisted angry red flesh. Not only was the maggot a thief of vibranium, but the thief of a legacy, Erik's legacy. And his blood. He quickly looked away from his enemy and drank more coffee before his eyes narrowed, betraying him, and he did something he would regret. The tv screen on the counter turned solid blue with a chipper automated female voice announcing the arrival of someone and then a picture of Tahir popped up.

"Entrance granted," Klaue said aloud as the front door opened and Tahir entered the domain.

"Killmonger? Klaue?"

"In here," Klaue called out, pouring himself a coffee and standing near Erik.

Tanner in color, hair glossy and damp from swimming in the pool, Tahir looked like the perfect tourist.

"Good morning," Tahir greeted.

"Coffee?" Klaue asked.

"No thank you. I'm cutting back on caffeine," Tahir chirped, using his fingers to pick up pieces of Erik's uneaten scrambled eggs.

"Savage," Erik joked. Tahir washed his hands in the sink.

"Any word on getting you on with us for this leg of the world tour?" Klaue asked.

"Nothing yet. But I'm good for Afghanistan," Tahir said sitting on a barstool and glancing at the BBC news feed.

"Excellent. I was just telling Killmonger we have a busy day tomorrow. Be prepared to do some gun range shooting and going over the shipment with the other men."

"Sure thing, Boss."

The landline rang.

"The call I've been expecting. Excuse me for a moment," Klaue said exiting toward his bedroom.

It was odd living with Klaue in the main house. He had a master bedroom with a tremendous view of the ocean that he didn't use. Erik was staying in that room. Klaue took a smaller less spectacular room in the back of the house, away from the open views.

The man was a night owl, mainly taking overseas calls and juggling his next big take. He slept in late every morning until usually ten in the morning. He would sometimes go for a swim and then meet with them for late lunches. It was rare to see him at breakfast, Leona or Yani taking a plate of food for him to heat up in the main house. Like Erik, he enjoyed solitude, but when Klaue was around people, a burst of his extroverted energy would engulf the surroundings. Almost a wild savage need to be the main force in the room. Erik noticed he had cut back on drinking, probably preparing for the mission. Sobriety wasn't the man's strong suit, but he did get down to the nitty-gritty when it was time to talk and do business.

Erik's eyes glanced up from the tv screen.

Tahir's face was full of concentration.

"Ma busiq bihada al Klaue. Rah yekhounah," Tahir said.

"You don't have to trust him, just trust his money. And he won't betray us…not any time soon. He needs me," Erik said. Tahir's face looked uncertain, even with Erik's confidence.

"I don't know, my friend…"

"Inta khalee Klaue la ilee. Rah ntali' minu masaree wa nitruko li alnusur," Erik said.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave him to you as you say. Make this money and bounce. But leave him to the vultures?"

"I said what I said."

"Personal."

"Business," Erik said with finality.

"Maybe I will have some coffee," Tahir said picking up a coffee mug.

###

Erik stuffed earplugs in just before Klaue began the loud rapid-fire shots from the Israeli 308 Semi-Auto rifle.

"This has very mild recoil," Klaue said when he stopped firing.

"Decent weapon, they've been copying the Russian AK-47s and the Finnish RK 62s over the years. You should get a good price for them, but you should really stick with your South African supplier. Not a great demand for Galil ACEs in Africa," Tahir said.

Erik watched Polk, Huntsman, Shipley, and the others as they took turns firing new AK-47s and a few South African Vektor Battle rifles.

Their targets were struck with the hard metal pings of steel on steel, each man a crack shot. Erik was more interested in the smaller arsenal of handguns. A new small arms gun culture was sweeping many parts of Africa and several African countries were manufacturing some of their own weaponry. Being South African helped Klaue do a lot of cross border arms trafficking in his own country, and he was able to make quick sales that would prove more lucrative as time went on. Especially with so many arms embargos occurring in East and North Africa recently.

Erik waited for the men to finish with his gun pointed downrange. His eye protection was warming up from the sun and he could feel sweat sliding down his cheeks.

When it was his turn to go, he let loose a fast clip of shots.

"Hold up! Hold up!" Klaue called out, staring at his cell.

Everyone stopped shooting.

"Refreshments gentlemen. Break time," Klaue said.

Erik put the safety on the gun and placed it on his side holster. When he took off his goggles and popped out the earbuds, he saw Yani and Leona walking above them under the gun range veranda pulling little wagons filled with food and drinks.

Erik and Tahir followed the men up to where the women set out big plastic dispensers filled with lemonade and ice water, along with platters of turkey and roast beef sandwiches. Thank you's were given to the women, and Erik did his best to ignore Yani.

She was once again dressed in a simple t-shirt and some loose sweats, and when her eyes sought his he turned away from her, filling up a large plastic cup with ice and lemonade, turning to face the ocean when he drank.

Klaue glanced at his watch.

"Take a half hour and we'll continue," Klaue said.

Erik grabbed a roast beef sandwich and walked away from the gun range. Yani and Leona stayed put, and he could hear Tahir speaking to them. There was no way he could stand there and eat knowing that she was going to bore holes into his face with her eyes, trying to read what he was feeling.

He sat under the veranda of Klaue's main house and watched a cruise ship approach the island far in the distance.

"Killmonger."

Fuck.

He put down the sandwich he had wrapped in a napkin on a patio table near his chair.

"What do you want, Yani?" he snapped.

Her face looked taken aback by his gruff response. He hoped she wouldn't start doing this, following him around the compound and being obvious.

She held out a cell phone for him.

"Mr. Klaue asked me to bring this to you," she said.

"For what?"

"A phone call, I guess," she said, her face now neutral with him.

Phone call?

Then he remembered. Klaue wanted him to have a new satellite phone that went through him and not Erik’s own personal one. He said he was going to pass them out during lunch.

"Oh…yeah. Thanks—"

She turned around abruptly and stalked away from him.

Great.

"Yani…hey, hold up…"

He trotted after her.

"I'm working, like you," she called back to him.

Let her go.

Erik stopped following her. He was supposed to compartmentalize. Stay on the grind. Leave that girl's hectic life alone.

He finished his sandwich and turned the cell on. Memorized the number.

Back at the gun range, the women had left and they all continued going over weapons with Tahir checking the product samples that they would be moving in Angola. Klaue wanted Tahir prepping his men to know what to look for in case some duds got through or someone tried to slip some well-manufactured imitations that the Ghanaians, Somalis, and Nigerians were creating on their own and selling as counterfeit product. Erik could tell Klaue was desperate to have Tahir with him.

Tahir was still leery of the man, and this made Erik appreciate his associate more. He could sense the foul in any situation.

Erik spent the evening in Klaue's living room researching Linda Chambers on his laptop. Her military record was standard-fare with a few commendations for her work while being stationed in Bagram Air Base in Parvan Province Afghanistan. Discharged as a technical sergeant, Linda spent time working for AramStar a private security contractor before popping up on the deep web offering her services. He made a few calls on his own phone, and then surfed some private links to get some intrusive factual data on her.

Single. Home base New York. Clean record.

He ran her credit and noticed a large amount of debt. Some overextended credit cards. A defaulted loan. Forty-thousand still owed for a two-year-old beemer. Broke with expensive tastes.

He stared at her military picture. Cute. He found some online photos on her private social media account. Cuter. Sexy even when she went all out.

She needed money. Her military and cyber tech skills were valuable on the black market. No shame in looking for big pay. She enjoyed skiing, mountain-climbing, and hang-gliding, all adrenaline rush hobbies. She also spoke Arabic.

Could be a keeper.

He sent a private encrypted message to her. If she was good, it wouldn't take her long to break the code and get back to him. Especially if she was hungry for the life.

Laughter outside.

Klaue, Tahir, Huntsman, and Klaue's long-time partner Limbani walked up the hill from the beach.

Yani stood outside near the veranda holding a stack of towels. Erik glanced at his watch. It was almost dinner time. Why was she still here? Who was watching Sydette?

He put his computer on sleep mode and walked out onto the wrap-around veranda. The men took the towels and headed up to the first house for dinner. Yani was trailing behind Klaue and the men when Erik caught up to her.

"Yani. Why are you still here? Who is watching Sweet Pea?"

"I work later when all the men are here. Auntie can't do everything by herself with this many people."

She'd been there since seven that morning. Ten hours away from her baby so far.

"Who has Sydette?"

"Twyla doesn't work today and Kendall is home now too. She's fine."

"She have enough milk for today?"

He had no idea why he said that, but it made her smile.

"She have plenty, Killmonger."

He wanted to live inside that smile.

"I have to go help, Auntie. Dinner ready in about fifteen minutes. Steak tonight."

"Cool…"

She turned to leave.

"How is Zachary?"

"He's okay. He texted me. We didn't talk over the phone. Mouth too sore…"

Her voice had that enchanting lilt that he came to crave so much.

"Are you two…I mean everything will work out for y'all, right"

Her eyes dropped away from his and stared at the ground.

"I don't think so. He didn't sound positive, and he's scared of Chez…so…it's probably best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's hard, y'now…hard being with me. He comes from a good family, and he's a Mama's boy, and his Mama doesn't want him with a woman with a child already. He's finishing at the University soon and needs to concentrate on that."

"His loss."

"Yeah, well, mine too I guess."

The early evening sunlight struck the side of her face illuminating her satiny skin. He wanted to stroke her cheek and tell her everything would be fine and that she'd find the right guy someday and all the stuff that people needed to hear when their hearts were broken or breaking.

Truth was, he was glad Zachary couldn't hang. Punk ass. Pouted like a little bitch in the backseat of the car when his woman needed to be hugged and reassured after witnessing violence like that. Young niggas nowadays just didn't have the balls anymore to just take an ass whooping like a man and keep it pushing. Win some, lose some. Next.

"I don't know what else to say, Ma, except I'm sorry."

"I'll be alright. I gotta go," she said pointing up toward the front house.

"Yeah, you better dip before your Aunt comes looking for you."

He rubbed his palms together and took a step back from her.

She walked away from him.

Damn this girl.

Taking quick long strides, Erik caught her hand in his and pulled her back against him, his head lowering to hers as he took her lips once more. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms holding his wide shoulders tight.

This was madness, their sloppy wet kisses making him tumble further down the rabbit hole with her. Their heads shifted left and right, each trying to devour the other's face. She let go of his lips first.

"I gotta go, Killmonger!"

"I know," he said catching her lips again, his hands slipping down to clutch onto her ass. He pushed her up against one of Klaue's coconut palm trees.

"Shit," he huffed when he felt the warmth and shape of her vulva molded against his dick. He had on light linen pants to protect his legs from all the mosquitos, and they both could see the large bulge standing up as her pussy rocked against it, and fuck if she wasn't grinding on his shit. He could feel his pre-cum leaking. He rubbed his dick back into her with the same amount of pressure she gave.

Once he had good balance, he lifted her up a bit and bounced her on his length, knowing her core was dripping. He rotated his hips, hitting her mound from different angles, always keeping that delicious friction

"You're so hard…I can feel all that big dick…this how you fuck, Killmonger?"

His voice hitched in his throat. How could she make such a dreadful nickname sound so erotic in his ear? She had him groaning hard and he wasn't even inside her fat pussy yet. He found an angle that his dick hit that made her clamp her mouth shut, and he stuck with that friction. He was hitting that clit just right because her head fell back and she was whimpering like she couldn't take anymore from him.

The heat between them was incendiary and when he felt ready to erupt, she wailed in his ear, "I'm cumming, Killmonger!"

He emptied his sack after hearing his name shouted from her lips, his dick spitting all in his pants, staining the cotton material. It was a thick nut, the semen hot and sticky inside the linen.

"Oh fuck…Yani…got me out here like this girl…fuucckk!"

She started laughing at him and he chuckled too having to stop and groan a few more times when he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm quaking his legs.

His cell phone vibrated in his back pocket.

He put Yani down and she tried fixing her sweatpants. Luckily, she had thin dark sweats on, the wetness from his pants only leaving a damp trace on her clothes. That could dry and be unnoticeable by the time she made it back up to the front house.

"Stop laughing at me girl," he said, play slapping her left butt cheek, "I gotta change my clothes because of you."

He reached out to strike her backside again, but she jumped away from him covering her butt with her hands.

"Go on girl, get up there," he said.

He glanced down at his cell phone.

A notification.

When he pulled up the link, he knew exactly who it was.

She was fast. Clearly skilled at breaking encryption codes.

Linda...

[Part 1] [Part 2]  [Part 3]  [Part 4]  [Part 5]  [Part 6]

If you liked this work, please check out  my “Forty-Seven G” & “Say Less”

Tag List:

@fonville-designs​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

[ironstrangeao3]

Sea of Dreams

by stececilia

In the seedy depths of Madripoor, a pack of omegas currently work in the local tavern selling themselves to the local patrons under the watchful eye of their Mistress, Pepper Potts. After stumbling across a map that leads to a great treasure, the omegas finally decide it's time to take back their lives and take charge of their future. They decide it's time to take their dreams to the sea and find them.

Words: 1918, Chapters: 1/37, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Panther (2018)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, M/M

Characters: Pepper Potts, Grand Master - Character, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Topaz (Marvel), Nick Fury, Thor (Marvel), Vision (Marvel), Clint Barton, Maria Hill, Steve Rogers, Okoye (Marvel), Ayo (Marvel), Ulysses Klaue, Thanos (Marvel), Erik Killmonger, Proxima Midnight, Ebony Maw, Corvus Glaive, Cull Obsidian, Ramonda (Marvel), T'Chaka (Marvel), Nebula (Marvel), Mantis (Marvel), Groot (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon, Drax the Destroyer, Peter Quill, Thaddeus Ross, Original Male Charaters, Sharon Carter (Marvel)

Relationships: Everett Ross/T'Challa, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner/Thor, Scott Lang/Sam Wilson, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/M'Baku, Mantis/Nebula (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Omegaverse, ABO dynamics, Pirate universe, no powers, Alternate Universe - Historical, Attempt at Historical Accuracy, Brothels, Ship Battles, Smut, Traumatic Backstories, Omegas not treated well in this universe, Harsh Language, Degrading Language, Finding Love, adventures on the high seas, Violence, mistreatment of omegas, Feminization, Cross dressing...sort of...omegas don't really have a dress code, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abortion, Abuse, Human Trafficking, Selling of omegas for sex, Mating, Knotting, Mating Bites, Angst with a Happy Ending, feeling realization, Birth Control methods, mentions of torture, fated mates, Scenting, sailing and piracy, Angst and Drama

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41039334