#then I saw the protector outfit had this leather thigh thing and I was like wait I gotta draw that

[kasieli]

HL Slytherin boys x MC outfits

[cherry-gemz]

The City by the Bay: Part V

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Chapter: The woman in Keanu's house is revealed; you and Keanu go out on an official date to his book signing.

Catch up HERE

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word count: 2.5k

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye ​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester ​ @fookingbetch @keanureevesisbae @romereadingshop @a-little-counter-esperanto

“I’m Mnfhdphf,” you mumble with your mouth full.

"What?" She asks again, annoyed.

"She's Y/N, Meredith," Keanu replies as he walks in, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I'm Y/N," you finally respond clearly.

"Yeah, got that," she chides.

Keanu walks over to you and grabs a piece of cheese, popping it in his mouth.

"Y/N, this is Meredith...my agent. Meredith, Y/N...Y/N is my guest."

"Oooh, your agent. N-nice to meet you," you reply and hold out your hand.

She gives you a curtly smile, but you know it's ingenuine.

"What the hell, Keanu?" She directs her annoyance to him.

As if he already knows what she's thinking, he raised his hand into submission.

"Look, it was a small accident. No one got hurt."

She tuts at him and tosses the manilla envelope on the marble slab counter.

"What's this?" He asks innocently and takes the document.

"A role...they're filming here in the city. Figured you'd be interested since your project has kept you here."

You tug at the hem of his shirt and cough, "I'll leave you to it...just gonna go get dressed."

"That would be best," Meredith snaps.

"Play nice," Keanu says unphased and reviews the script. "Huh…"

You hear him discuss a few things with her as you scamper to the living room to grab you jeans.

"What?"

He scratches the back of his neck and cranes it to the side, "I dunno, Mer. It's um…"

"It's what?"

"Dancing?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I dunno how to dance. I haven't done something like this," he shakes his head and tosses the script haphazardly on the counter.

You jump into your jeans and quickly button the button.

"Did you say dancing?" You ask across the living room.

Meredith crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, this role requires me to waltz."

"There's this dance studio on Van Ness. We passed it coming here…" you quickly reply, thinking that the last time you were there was with your ex.

"Let me guess, you're a dancer," Meredith retorts.

"No...I work at a bookstore...I mean that's not all I do…"

"She's a chef, Mer. Lay off," Keanu replies.

"Oh fantastic. You almost kill yourself while riding in the rain with a bookstore girl?"

Keanu's hand motioned her to stop, "If this is about the accident, it was my fault. Don't out blame on Y/N."

"You can't just go gallivanting around the city! Or you at least call me to tell me you're okay! I had to call a million people, plus the studio, and lie until I saw you. You didn't answer your phone!"

"I'm sorry…" you pipe up. "I didn't mean for things to get out of hand...if you want me to leave-"

"YES."

"No," Keanu said cooly.

Meredith shot Keanu a death glare, but he shrugged it off and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

"Keanu…" she started to say as he shook his head.

"You got what you came for, Mer. You saw me, I'm fine. I'll take a look at the script and let you know. I'll call you in the morning."

"But-"

"Now, Mer I know you're coming from a good place, but you've been rude to my guest. So please see yourself at the door and we'll talk later."

Meredith's mouth stayed open like a cod fish and shot daggers over your way.

"Fine. Let me know first thing in the morning. Otherwise who knows, Hugh Jackman might swoop in on this. And don't forget, you have the signing party tomorrow night."

"Yeah, okay, Mer. Thanks."

She pivoted on her heel and headed to the foyer and out the door.

You plopped on the leather couch, stunned at their interaction.

"Gosh…" you were able to say. "I didn't think that would happen to me today."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Meredith means well. She's tough as nails and has been my agent for years. I get why she was upset, but she had no right to talk to you that way."

He picked up the folder and walked over to the couch to sit next to you.

"It's okay...I mean, I don't know her from Adam. But definitely don't want to be on her bad side again."

"Heh, yeah. Me either."

You gulp as he sits comfortably next to you. Is this what it's like? Being normal next to the global superstar? Just be cool, Y/N.

"So, do you have any plans tomorrow?"

Your voice cracks, "What?"

"I had a fantastic time with you...I hope there will be more…" he smacks his forehead and blushes, "Gosh. I didn't mean it like that."

You stifle a giggle. I hope there will be more moments like that in the bedroom.

"What I mean to say is, I'd like you to be my date tomorrow at this signing thing...that is if you'd like to come?'

***

The next day you're on cloud nine. You've chatted to your brother about meeting the famous actor and he hadn't stopped asking you how he was and is he as cool as he seems. It's as if he wanted to go out on a date with him instead.

“Ask him for an autograph,” he asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, CJ,” you roll your eyes as you pace your bedroom.

“What? Not for you, for me!”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, I have my Matrix poster that I can give you-“

“I’m going? Ceej.”

“No, wait. Ask him more about Cyberpunk...like can he-“

“Bye, dude!” You reply and end the call. It was just you and your brother these days, your parents had passed on and while you loved him, he did drive you crazy from time to time. He was finishing his senior year at Sac state and being your baby brother, you’d think you were the protector. But instead he always was the one to check in on you, to make sure you were eating all your food groups and drinking water. You loved that nut despite his spaziness.

You find yourself going through your closet for an evening with the superstar. You pick up from your bed a black leather pencil skirt and hold it up to your waist. Unsure if you can pull it off and not really knowing what you'd match it with.

Your bedroom door swings open and it's your neighbor's teenage daughter, Cori.

"Oooh, what are you doing tonight?' she teased as she crunched the apple she held in her hand.

"Help yourself, Cor," you roll your eyes alluding to the fruit that she took from your counter. You toss the skirt on the bed, then pick up a pair of your comfy boyfriend jeans.

"I got some Dr. Marten's that would go great with that skirt," she says and plops down the bed, rummaging through your clothes.

"I have worn Doc Marten's before you were born," you laugh. She's a cute kid. Hella beautiful and smart. She's talked about joining the Air Force one day and you hope she gets there.

"You need to show some leg, Y/N."

"What are you doing here?" You tut and she hands you the pretty floral silk mini dress that you bought for a wedding last year and never wore again.

"It's for tonight. It'll be cold."

"Even better, he'll have to give you his jacket."

"How do you even know about these things? You're fifteen."

"Fifteen is the new twenty," she shrugs and gets up to your closet.

You stare at the dress. It's an outfit that does accentuate your legs and you've felt cute in it. Maybe Cori is right…

She returns and hands you a faux leather jacket that you bought at some boutique a few months ago.

"I dunno…"

She shoves it to your chest, "Trust me."

"I'm not sure if this is the right outfit for the event."

"What's it for then?"

"A book signing or something?"

"Ooh, he's an artist?"

"Kind of… thespian…" you blush and pull your shirt over your head and reach for the dress.

"Oh, like locally?" She crunches another bite of the apple and leans on the doorframe.

"Not exactly…"

You pull the leather jacket on and peer at your full length mirror. You look pretty good: chic and cool, not trying too hard, but an effort nonetheless.

"Black tights," she clicks her tongue and waggles her brows.

"Is that seriously in?"

"It's hot. Sheer tights and my boots, c'mon, Y/N."

"I dunno."

"Is he hot?"

You blush at the thought of Keanu and then that you're talking to a teenager about your love life.

"Oh, he is. Okay I'll be back with my boots," she replies and rushes out of the room.

"Cor! Wait!" You yell, but she's already down the hall. You look back at your reflection and bit your lip.

I can do this. What is one little night out with the man of your dreams? Nothing to be worried about.

***

Keanu insisted on picking you up despite your resistance. You told him it was fine and you could just meet up. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Which secretly you enjoyed.

The roar of his motorcycle echoed down your street and you pretended like you weren’t waiting for him for 30 minutes on your couch. Your palms were sweaty an your hair was falling flat, but the excitement was overwhelming.

The knock at your door startled you despite your ability to hear him approach your doorstep. You take one more look at yourself in the hall mirror and then open the door. He’s wearing a nice coat, a v-neck gray shirt, and jeans. Maybe you overdressed?

“Wow,” he says as you open the door. “I leveled up for sure.” You giggle as he hands you a bouquet of wildflowers. The bursts of yellow and orange are gorgeous and he can tell you’re pleased with them.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady,” he smirks. You give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you…” you reply. “Come on in, I’ll put them in water and we can head out.”

He nods in agreement as you pivot towards your kitchen, nervous that you have him in your apartment. Keanu Reeves is in your apartment. Get it together Y/N, he was between your thighs the day before. You silently chuckle to yourself as an image flashes to your brain.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as you stare at him, caught in your thirsty moment.

"Oh, uh nothing really."

He smiles and rubs his chin, as if he could read your mind.

"I'm really looking forward to this,' he replies.

"Me, too. I hope I don't get too much in the way," you reply as you place the flowers in a vase full of water.

"Of course not," he leans his elbows on your kitchen counter. He fits here, you think. "I just hope it's not too boring."

"A night out with Keanu Reeves? Anything but boring."

He grimaces and smiles again, "No pressure."

"No pressure."

He claps his hands together and rubs them in eagerness. He's hit with a quick pain and grabs his side.

"Ke...you okay?" You leave the vase on the counter and go to his aid.

He gently touches his shoulder from the fall the day with you.

"Yeah, just got a little excited, heh. Ke. I like that."

A smile is brought to your face as you realized you called him that. It wasn't like you had thought of it before, but it fit.

"Do you need me to look at it?"

He cocked his brow, "Trying to get me shirtless again, Y/N?"

"I mean...not gonna lie. That does sound like a fun time…”

“Hey, I thought it was the intent to wine and dine you.”

“Is that so?” You coo and approach him, placing your hand on his chest. His brown eyes are soulful and deep, you could get lost in them. He leans in for a kiss and you close your eyes. His lips ignite a desire within and he encloses the gap and wraps hands around your waist. You press your body against his, the thinness of your dress makes the apex of your thighs ache.

He reluctantly pulls away, "At this rate I should cancel tonight."

"You can do that?"

"Sure, just let me call Meredith and you can tell why I won't be showing," he teases and pulls out his phone. You quickly grab it from his grasp.

"No, no need for that!"

"You sure? I bet she'd love to hear from you."

You look at his screen and pull open the camera app to take a candid shot of you two. Your first photo together.

"Let's go before I get you into more trouble."

***

BRZRKR. It's a comic book. You're attending Keanu's comic book signing party. CJ is going to flip his lid.

You arrive at a nearby bookstore, smaller than the one you work at, but it's filled with memorabilia, dolls, comics, posters of all types, heroes and anti-heroes.

Keanu downplayed this to the umpth degree. Considering how small the store was, it's jam packed with fans and media.

This is a big deal. Leave it to Keanu to say it was going to be an intimate evening. An intimate evening with 100 people you think to yourself.

The two of you didn't really talk about how to address things considering you showed up together. You were a bit busy hanging onto his strong abs as he whisked you away on his motorcycle through the city. So you weren't prepared with the paparazzi and journalists buzzing your way, trying to get a shot of the mystery woman who Keanu had arrived with.

He was escorted to the back of the store, you saw Meredith and she ignored you, purposefully. As he and the head comic writer dove into a Q&A session of how the idea was brought to life, a woman around your age accidentally bumps into you.

"Oh, excuse me!" She whispers as people continue to snap photos.

"It's okay," you reply and smile.

"This is something, huh?"

"Yeah," you nod, trying to hear what he says about comic series.

"What magazine are you with?" The woman asks. She's wearing Doc Marten's and you stifle a laugh to yourself.

"Me? Oh, I'm not a journalist. I work in a bookstore."

"This one?" She asks as she folds her arms, peering over to the table. Her hair, braided, is a natural red which is ridiculously beautiful. She's like a siren, and particularly calm.

"Oh no, just on Columbus. City Lights."

"Oh neat, so then you're a comic book enthusiast?"

"Me? I mean I've dabbled in Marvel and DC. But nothing like this."

"Yeah, tickets were hard to get for sure. I had to pull a few strings just to get this pass," she says and holds up a press lanyard.

"Oh," you reply. The crowd laughs and Keanu shakes his head smiling. Dangit, I wish I knew what they were talking about.

"How'd you get yours?"

"Um, Meredith gave it to me," you reply and then realized maybe you've said too much.

"Cool," the woman says unphased. "Mischa."

"Y\N," you say and then turn your attention to Keanu. "I'm gonna try to get a closer look," you say as a segway to leave.

"Oh sure, talk to you later," Mischa replies as you snake around the crowd to hear better.

***

After almost two hours, Keanu has done some meet and greets, and other press photos. You hang out in the back and peruse the rest of the store. Meredith approaches you from behind.

"So, what did you think?" She's wearing a slick, blush power suit and she looks amazing. Her short brunette hair is styled and for a second, she actually looks approachable.

"Very educational," you smile.

"Surprised you stayed this long."

"I hadn't realized what this actually was. Ke didn't make it sound like a big deal."

"Ke?"

"Um yeah," you blush. "Just a nickname."

"Already there, huh?" She stuffs her hands in her pants pocket and you don't understand the chip she has on her shoulder.

You ignore her comment,"So should I stay around?"

"He probably wouldn't notice you gone."

You give her a side eye, the nerve.

"Who's gone?" Keanu asks as he turns the corner and is between the two of you.

"No one," you beam as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"Mer you treating my girl alright?"

She grabs a wine glass from a nearby waiter and smirks, saying nothing and then walks away.

"Like a bulldog," you say as she disappears in the crowd.

"How about we get out of here?" He says and draws himself closer to you. "You smell fantastic by the way, did I mention that yet?"

You giggle and shake your head no, "What do you have in mind?"

"Are you up to show me the City at night?"

[literary-spirit]

Lessons of Devotion

Chapter 6

Bonnie spent the next several days restoring Rollo's former keep. By the end of the fifth day, she moved in and Queen Aslaug gifted her with a new bed, a table, two chairs, and a large barrel to use for baths. Bjorn gave her bulks of silks, linen, furs, and leather material to fashion a wardrobe that would range from great hall feasts to raiding next spring. For that task, her magic did the bulk of the work. In no time, she had several dresses fashioned after wears she'd seen on the hit television shows Reign, Last Kingdom, and Merlin. She even threw in some retro fits from her time period. For her raiding gear, she went straight Valkyrie from Thor Ragnarök.

She stared down at the leather black raiding outfit she wore, frustrated she couldn't see the gear on her in its entirety. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of her butt. "Damn, wish I had the full-length mirror from home," she mumbled to herself.

Seconds later the mirror materialized in front of her. Her bottom lip kissed the floor. Although the emergence of her mirror from thin air stunned her, the reflection which stared back at her shocked the southern fried shit out of her. Instead of her sassy twenty-seven-year-old self-staring back at her, she was staring at her scared of her own shadow eighteen-year-old senior in high school self. The self who died before she even had the chance to graduate. How? Why? She rubbed a hand over her face, unable to believe the lie her reflection attempted to tell.

A knock sounded at the door and she hurried to cover the mirror with a few bulks of stray fabric. When she turned to answer the knock, Bjorn walked in followed by Torvi and the boys. Bjorn carried a chest, while Torvi held a battle ax and a sheathed sword.

"Bonnie, you fashioned your raider's wear?" Torvi placed the weapons on the table and hurried over to spin her around. "It's made so well, you're barely able to see the stitching. Look, how the chainmail overlays the length of her arms and bosom area. Bonnie you have to make me one. Wait until Lagertha sights this."

As Torvi continued fawning over the raiding outfit, Guthrum rushed over and wound himself around one of Bonnie's legs. Hali, not to be left out, toddled over with his arms raised. Bjorn, who had since place the chest on the table next to the weapons, watched her with a complacent expression locked tight on his face. Conflict, however, incinerated his eyes until they glowed brighter and bluer than a Brazilian sky. One could only imagine the battle which waged inside his head.

"Of course, I'll make one for you," she said as she leaned down to scoop Hali into her arms.

The intensity in Bjorn's eyes doubled, when his gaze traveled over her and Hali, "You'll have to wait until after you give birth to done the garb."

"It's enough to know I'll have it when time comes," Torvi insisted, standing back to stare down the length of Bonnie once more before turning to her husband.

"Bonsie, will you come before slumber to finish the saga about the street rat, and the Jinn?" Guthrum questioned.

Bonnie squatted with Hali still in her arms pecking away at her cheek, "Yes, and if we finish early we can start on a new one."

"Alright," Bjorn said, snapping from whatever mental deliberation he wrestled with to the point of distraction, "help your mother ready the keep for Lagertha's visit on the morrow. We'll fish in the harbor once you've finished."

Torvi and Bjorn exchanged a stare that screamed a thousand words without whispering one. Torvi glanced away first to regard her with warm eyes that put cups of cocoa and comfortable furry slippers to shame, "Will we see you at second meal? Queen Aslaug does enjoy squandering a great amount of your time." She finished with an eyeroll.

"I'll be there," Bonnie smiled, handing Hali back to Torvi.

With that assurance, Torvi nodded and ushered the children from the keep. After the door to the keep closed, Bonnie's gaze moved to Bjorn. He still watched her with eyes that burned her in a place she couldn't even begin to try and soothe. "What troubles you, my protector?"

"You," he straightened from his lean on the wall. With deliberate purpose he crossed the room. "You trouble me. So does your voice that I hear even when you're not near... and your eyes that forces me to misuse time because I'm occupied staring into the trees to find their likeness in hue... but let me not misremember your mouth! For how can I misremember your mouth which tempts and mocks me just so of the point of madness...your hair, in which my hands long to fist themselves...your scent, which intoxicates and besots me until I'm no better than the village drunkard." He paused to lift her onto the table. After cupping her face in his hands he continued, "Everything about you troubles me." He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to her lips. "And it troubles me that I'm troubled by you. It troubles me that I can't merely make you my concubine because my heart refuses to recognize you as anything other than my wife...my future queen." He kissed her again, this time slipping his tongue between her lips. The taste of him ripped a moan from the bottom of her throat. Without any real thought behind the action, her arms snaked around his neck. "Marry me, Mystical One."

In that moment all she wanted to do was drown in him. To become overwhelmed by the absolute epicness of him. And if she was just a woman and him just a man with a heart equal in measure to the demigod who stood before her, then to him she would submit. Goddess, help her, she'd become his wife and carry a minivan full of children for him. Alas, she wasn't just a woman and he wasn't just a man. They both had roles to roll with and it was too early in the game to allow emotions to get in the way of them achieving the victory history had already saw fit to deny him.

"I'm sorry, Bjorn," she leaned back from his grasp, "I can't."

Several emotions filtered across his face, but the one of pain is the one which stuck with her. "Why? I know you would be my second wife, but you have to know you'd always be first in my heart."

"There's someone else, Bjorn," she said, figuring there was no better time than the present to make Klaus' place in her life known. "There's someone I left behind, who's waiting for me back in my land."

"And he holds your affections?" He backed away from the cradle of her legs. "Even now?"

"He's my family," she said, barely above a whisper.

Bjorn scoffed, before spinning around to stalk toward the door. Opening it, he paused, "Whomever he is, he doesn't deserve you. Anyone who could misplace one as rare and precious as you, doesn't merit the treasure the gods have gifted him." With that said, he left.

Bonnie's eyes closed, and there in silence she allowed the salty liquid droplets of pain to slip freely down her face.

****

"Mother said Bjorn has spoken to her of his plans to marry, Bonnie," Hvitserk said to Ubbe's back as he followed him through the forest.

Ubbe remained silent. He already knew of his older brother's plans to marry his Mystic One. Anyone with sight could bear witness to how taken he was with the girl. Odin's eye, they all were. Her beauty and exoticness was unique to any other in Kattegat. Hel truth be heralded, anyone in all of Norway. Yet, her physical appeal only attracted one's attention, it was everything else about her which intrigued. The whole of her is what provoked many topics of conversations at the long table and had every ear trained on what she would possibly say next.

"Well, she will not have him," Ivar said, while gripping the sides of the wooden plank on which they dragged him. "She will have none of you. You all see the way she gazes upon me, hmm?"

It was true. Whenever in Ivar's presence, she couldn't keep her verdant pigmented eyes from meeting his. The strangest thing. One would think she didn't even see him as a cripple, but instead as an unbroken man who was capable of being her provider and protector.

Sigurd scoffed. "Have you ever even been with a woman, Ivar?"

"Sorry, Little Brother," Hvitserk laughed, leaning down to ruffle Ivar's hair, "Nestled between those dark thighs is my home and I do mean to return to the comforting heat of her hearth."

They reached the edge of the forest which gave way to the cove. Hvitserk was about to pull Ivar out but something with in the falls of the water snared his awareness. He raised a hand to signal for Hvitserk to halt. The shadow in the water moved into view and their collective breaths caught. There in all her bared radiance stood the matter of their debate. Her body was beyond perfection. Even through all the froth lathered over her golden bronzed skin, he could tell her tempting frame was crafted by and for Odin. For what mere mortal man would be worthy of a woman such as her?

"I don't understand?" Ivar mumbled. They turned to see there little brother gawking at the overexaggerated man stand towering in his lap. Fear glistened Ivar's already too blue gaze, "What is happening?"

"What don't you understand?" Sigurd frowned, barely tearing his eyes away from a now rinsed clean Bonnie. "Is that your first one?"

"Looks like you're not quite so boneless after all, Little Brother," Hvitserk said, reaching down to squeeze Ivar's shoulder.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ubbe's mouth as he returned his gaze to Bonnie. She now stood on the rocks near the waterfall rubbing a liquid substance of sorts into her skin which made her rare hue glisten in the sunlight. Unable to resist her any longer, he left the cover of the trees.

"Ubbe!" he heard Hvitserk hiss.

"Where's he going?" Sigurd panicked.

"Where do you think?" Ivar answered.

****

Bonnie stood in front of the waterfall, dipping her head back. She allowed the supernaturally heated water to rinse the homemade co-wash from her head. With the pads of her fingers, she gave her scalp a deep massage. Her eyes slipped closed. Mm, she needed this after how things went down with Bjorn. No matter her feelings, she couldn't afford to lose focus.

Ansel's warning growl from the bank alerted her to be on guard. Her eyes snapped open and collided with a bottomless sky-blue gaze. Ubbe towered before her bared tanned, hard, ripped and cut the hell up with godlike precision. For a full minute they remained struck in awe of the other. Unable to take her eyes off of him, she backed away. Once she bumped into the large rock holding her belongings, she squatted to retrieve her shower scrub and a scrap of linen from her basket.

When she reclaimed her spot in front of him, she commenced to bathing him. She started with his face, and then worked her way down to his solid shoulders. There, she kneaded the rigid muscles into pliable submission. After she relieved the tension in his neck she moved on to the firm hills of his chest. With ease, she glided the rag over the dipped crevices of his abdomen. She lifted her gaze to stare in his eyes as she attempted to wrap the linen scrap around all eight inches of him. Which was no easy task since the girth of him was almost the size of her ankle in width. Once secured in her grasp, she gave him a few firm tugs that earned her a long-drawn-out moan and a couple of grunts.

"Don't marry Bjorn," he demanded in a hoarse broken whisper.

She gave him another massage infused pull, "I wasn't planning to."

"Good," He leaned down and captured her upturned mouth with his.

The kiss he rocked the hell out of her mind with was nothing like she believed him to be. Under all that arctic chill simmered a passion so fierce and wild she'd nearly missed the splashing of the water in the distance. She severed her lips from Ubbe's in time to see Sigurd and Hvitserk's glorious but naked form trotting over to them.

"Shit," she hissed, and broke away from Ubbe.

Snatching her basket from the rock, she disappeared behind the curtain of frothy falling water. Quickly, she put on white bikini bottoms and a matching wrap top, items she managed to displace from home in 2018. Once dressed she stepped back through the waterfall.

Hvitserk greeted her with one of his signature wide smiles. "Our turn." When he glanced down at her bikini bottoms, a frown battled back his previous good cheer, "What are those? Is that some strange fabric barrier to preserve chastity in this Mystic land of yours?"

"Why is your muff bare?" Sigurd questioned, fucking all over the boundaries of her personal space. "Have you not completely reached womanhood yet?"

"First, I'm not done with Ubbe yet, so you'll wait your turn." She began, addressing them both with her chin raised and hands planted on her hips. "Second, these or bikini bottoms and they're made for swimming, not preserving chastity, Hvitserk. Third, Sigurd, I'll have you know I'm all woman and the reason there is no hair down below is because I prefer a clean canvas down there. And Fourth," She looked over the three of them, "where's Ivar?"

"Back on the shore. He can't swim," Sigurd said, his tone dismissive.

She stepped closer to Hvitserk and Sigurd, palming each of their cheeks. "Will you both please get him and place him here on the rocks. This platform is large, flat, and stable. It should be safe enough for him over here." When they nodded their assent, she stood on tip toes and kissed them each on the corners of their mouths.

Once alone, Ubbe wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "I apologize for my brothers' interruption. Can I come visit you at your keep after second meal?"

"Isn't that normally when you meet Margrethe in the barn?" She asked, watching as they placed Ivar on some sort of wooden raft.

He yanked her backwards through the waterfall. When they were obscured from the view of his brothers, he allowed his hands-free reign over her body. One reached up to palm her breasts, while the other slipped into her bikini bottoms. He devoured the side of her neck with open mouth kisses. His thumb grazed over her clit in persistent brushes, provoking her overheated good-good to ooze her need all over his hand. Whimpering, she silently urged him on by further parting her legs. Instead of giving into her quiet demands he kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple. The roughness of his touch had her grinding into the heel of his hand.

"I do not care to meet Margrethe in the barn this eve," he rasped next to her ear. "I'd rather greet the next rising in your bed. Now will you have me, Valkyrie?" He tried to press two fingers in her entrance, but her good girl being a tease refused admission. After a brief pause, he downgraded to one finger and she still refused to bloom. "Are you a-,"

"Where are you two?" Sigurd yelled from outside. "We need help getting Ivar off the raft and on the boulder."

"Do you think they're-," Hvitserk began.

"No," Ivar cut him off, "Bonnie's, girdles are not nigh as light as Margrethe's."

She broke free of Ubbe's hold and straightened her bottoms. After stepping back through the waterfall, she jumped from the rock into the water and swam over to the raft. Ivar searched her face, and then looked over her shoulder at Ubbe who'd just reappeared back through the froth of water. A smirk settled on his all too willing lips.

"As I said before," Ivar said to no one in particular, "Some girdles are light and others..." his dancing gaze moved to regard her, "not so much. Greetings, my love. My brothers tell me you requested my presence over on that boulder."

Her heartbeat tapped out a peculiar rhythm upon hearing Ivar refer to her as his love. "Yep, I wanna bathe you and wash your hair. Do you have any objections to me doing so?"

His brows leaped to his hairline as he shook his head, "N-no."

For the next couple of hours, Bonnie bathed, shampooed, and groomed the Lothbroks. They each seemed to bask in the attention. Especially, when she braided Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd hair in actual designs instead of the sloppy twists they usually wore. Since Ivar's hair wasn't yet long enough for braids, she trimmed it into a precision cut. By the time they made it back to Kattegat the second meal had already begun. She was late for dinner with Bjorn and Torvi. If she didn't hurry she'd miss it altogether.

"I'll see you guys later," her gaze darted to Ubbe first before moving over all of them, "I had fun, thanks for helping me to take my mind off things."

She turned to walk towards Bjorn's and Ivar grabbed her wrist. "What things?"

She squatted and kissed him on the lips. "It doesn't matter." With that, she stood and hurried away.

****

The next rising after first meal, Bjorn greeted his mother in the great hall. People who remembered her from long before as Ragnar's first wife waited in Kattegat's long house to welcome her. Although he was happy to see his mother, only half his heart cared she visited at all. Bonnie's refusal still pained him. Why would she choose another over him? Surely, he couldn't be the only one between them who harbored such affections.

"I said, how have you fared here since your return, my son?" Lagertha's voice, delivered him from the torture which was his thoughts.

"Distracted it would appear," Astrid, his mother's...Astrid said.

Bjorn waved off their observations. "I've fared well enough. Although, Floki has informed me that the fleet he's building for the Mediterranean won't be available until next spring."

"Oh," Lagertha reached up to rub his back, "I'm sorry, Bjorn."

He shrugged. "Just as well, Torvi's carrying again."

"Bjorn, this is wonderful news," Lagertha hugged him, her smile nearly splitting her face in two. "The gods have truly favored you and Torvi."

This time he felt his own smile creep into his eyes. "They do, in truth Bonnie has assured me this babe will be a girl."

"Bonnie?" Confusion snatched Lagertha's head to the far left.

"The dark woman he brought back from his last raid," Astrid enlightened, "The one he placed under his protection."

"Ah," Lagertha's pale brows shot up as she gave a slow nod. "I remember. How is she? Is she still a part of your household?"

"No, she now resides in Rollo's former keep," Bjorn answered, while tracking Ubbe's march into the hall.

"That's better for all," his mother exhaled, seeming somewhat relieved.

"No!" Bjorn snapped, dragging his attention from Ubbe. "I do not think it's better for all. I suffer-w-we suffer very much from her absence. The sooner she agrees to become my wife, then and only then will we all be the better for it."

"Your wife?!" Lagertha low hiss shrieked. "Did you leave your wits in the wetlands of Frankia? Bjorn, you know nothing of this woman!"

"You're wrong," he placed a palm at the center of his chest, "I know exactly who she is, and I know exactly where she belongs."

"And what of Torvi? Is she content with this usurper stealing her way into your lives and making a home of your marriage?" Lagertha questioned.

Bjorn folded his arms, weary of the entire discussion. He wasn't Ragnar, Torvi wasn't Lagertha, and Bonnie wasn't, Hel take her, Aslaug. "Torvi embraces the idea of Bonnie joining us in matrimony."

His mother's eyes flared. She scoffed in disbelief. "You've been bewitched. This woman has bewitched you, just as Ragnar was so many years before you. What is it about Lothbrok men that breeds witches?"

"Mother, it may be best if you rest," Bjorn said, leveling her with a glare that would make steel fold, but more than likely meant less than horse shit to Lagertha. "The journey from Hedeby to Kattegat can be exhausting." With that said, Bjorn turned and left the great hall.

Once Bjorn disappeared from sight Lagertha looked to Astrid. "Take care of her."

Astrid nodded her understanding.

****

Unable to stay inside any longer, Bonnie decided to take a walk along the shore of the fjord. Though they were on the brink of winter, the beauty of Kattegat was heart snatching.

In her own time when she traveled, she never even considered visiting Norway. Now that she found herself stranded there surrounded by its people and exquisiteness, she couldn't understand why this place never made the bucket list.

As she continued along the bank a cloaked figure sitting on a large rock staring out at the sea caught her attention. Loneliness wafted off of him in dejected waves. When she'd binged the series with Caroline Ivar was never one of her favorite characters. He reminded her too much of Klaus. Always hurting and terrifying others to distract from the obvious detail that he too was also hurt and terrified. Back then she had zero compassion to give to bullies who thought to offer reason behind their madness. At least not until Damon became her best friend and she fell face first in love with Klaus. Now after seasons of judgement from her something within urged her to offer Ivar the consideration she never did when she watched the show.

Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself she made her way over to him. Once at his side, she joined him in staring out at the clear waters of the fjord. For a while, neither of them said anything. They just existed together in a shared moment of peace.

A several more comfortable minutes of silence, Ivar spoke without turning to look at her. "I'll wager you're pondering what a cripple could possibly be considering as he gazes at waters he can never be minded to tread."

"You're considering how far you'll go," Her words brought his disbelieving blazing stare to hers, "But you don't have to worry because you'll go far, Ivar. You'll go further than you can ever think to dream or imagine." She reached inside his cloak and interlaced her fingers with his. Laying her head on his shoulder, she turned back to the fjord.

He rested his head on top of hers, "Why'd you kiss me, hmm?"

"Because I wanted to and I knew you wanted me to," she answered reveling and drowning in him all at the same time. "You bother me, Ivar. The last time a man bothered me I fell in love with him."

"You mustn't do something as foolish as to offer me your heart, my love," He cradled her hand in both of his. "I may do something as equally foolish and accept it."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to study his face. What she saw there was the strike of lightening she'd waited twenty-seven years to see. How did one come back from Nirvana and settle for the lack-lusterless of reality? The mundane of good enough. Was he the reason? Far away yipping of a dog snatched her from the brink.

"I have to go," she whispered.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

She pressed her mouth to his and took a minute to savor his lips. He moaned into the kiss, reluctantly she pulled away. After she gave herself a second for her world to start spinning again, she slid from the rock and darted off toward the woods. Inside the forest, Ansel barked for her to follow him. So that's what she set out to do. After a half hour of nonstop running she could no longer see Ansel. Bonnie called out to him, but only silence answered her in return. She glanced about the overhang she stood on. Everything and nothing looked familiar. Hell, she didn't know north from south. She'd do better waiting for Ansel to return for her. She walked to the edge. A view of the fjord feeding water into her cove greeted her.

A grin teased her lips. Thoughts of her bathing the boys shamed her better judgement. She would have never pulled that shit back in Mystic Falls as a senior in high school. Hell not even as a senior citizen. With thoughts of the day before still trailing across her mind she backed away from the edge. Bjorn's sacred arm ring slipped from her wrist. When she was unable to locate it among the leaves she dropped to her knees and started sifting through the brush on the ground. As soon as her hand connected with hard metal she exhaled. She didn't know what she would tell Bjorn if she'd ever loss the symbol of their vow. Quickly, she slipped the sacred arm ring back on her wrist.

When she moved to rise something hard bashed her in the head. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair as blunted nails clawed at her scalp. With unnecessary force her head was jerked backwards. A cold jagged edge of steel bit into her neck and slid from ear to ear. The sound of howling dampened her hearing as her attacker drug her by her hair to the edge of the precipice. A well-aimed kick to the center of her back sent her tumbling over the edge. Her heart stopped long before the near freezing waters of the cove embraced her.

[justanotherloveaffair]

All Mine (T’Challa x Reader One Shot)

My entry for @brianabreeze‘s 4k Celebration Fic Fest, “You’re not going out in that outfit.”

I’m sorry this took so long. 

Summary:  You give T’Challa a gift - yourself. 

Warnings: BDSM themes - domination/submission, use of collar and leash, spanking, rough/kink sex, hints of hybrid/panther T’Challa, oral sex

Word Count: 6,536

Author’s Note:  If you know and read my work, you probably won’t be surprised to know I am into BDSM. I know it might not be everyone’s thing, so hopefully this doesn’t bother anyone. I've wanted to write this idea for a lonnnnng while. I hope someone out there enjoys this lol

Taglist: @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @kumkaniudaku @grandadchadwick @supersizemeplz, @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @ashanti-notthesinger, @onyour-right,  @maverickabull, @lavitabella87,  @fullonfrenzy,  @builtalongthewayside, @belauriette, @jaeee-http, @airis-paris14,  @fortuitoushappenings , @queentearra, @h-challa @90sinspiredgirl @wildaboutchrisevans @theunsweetenedtruth @stevesthot @afraiddreamingandloving @killmongerrss @nah-imjustfeelinit @tchallaholla @a-heretic-child @simplyyamberr @tacohead13 @heyauntieeee @big3gocandykahn + I really need to do a new taglist sorry if I missed someone!!! 

The morning before the New York Benefit for Science and Technology, where your husband, the King of Wakanda was the keynote speaker, you were out on the town, dressed incognito for a shopping trip while T’Challa was preoccupied with meetings and memorizing his speech.

Disguising yourself was necessary, not just to deter the usual attention you weren’t in the mood to receive, but because what you were shopping for wasn’t exactly something you wanted on the front page of the news. You could see the headlines now. The Kinky King and Queen of Wakanda, with a picture of you below, picking up your custom ordered, diamond-encrusted submissive collar.

It was meant to be a surprise. In the past year, you and your husband had been exploring dominance and submission in bed. There was nobody you trusted more than T’Challa. He was a loving, giving, passionate man, and when it came to experimenting with control, it was no surprise he was a natural at it.

The more you played, the more certain thoughts became fascinating to you, like wearing a collar, a symbol of your submission, and handing him the leash.

The collar was just a frivolous idea of fancy until you found a jeweller who was willing to create exactly what you wanted, and given the amount of money she was getting for it, with no questions asked. Also, she just happened to be in New York, your home away from Wakanda that week.

Her shop was a regular looking jewelry store out front, but when you gave the staff the false name you’d been using in your correspondence, she immediately came to collect you and bring you around back.

She was excited as she presented it to you with a flourish, removing a velvet purple covering atop a pillow to reveal a circular choker studded with hundreds – but glinting as if there were thousands – of sparkling diamonds.

In the center was an O ring, the crucial piece that turned a regular choker into a bondage item with the simple but necessary spot for clipping a chain. For T’Challa to hold and lead you however he desired.

You shivered at the thought, touching your fingers to the cold, shimmering icelike jewels. You had already wire transferred her the money, so you held out your hands to accept your purchase that was nestled protectively inside a black box lined with purple velvet, and closed with a special lock with a pre-agreed code.

You walked out, completely unrecognized, and after stopping for a coffee, you went back to the hotel where you could hardly wait to try it on together with your dress, also custom-made, from a Wakandan designer.

You had a feeling the King wouldn’t approve. The dress was daring, almost shockingly revealing, and T’Challa hated when men ogled you. He was possessive of your body, and wanted all that belonged to him to be his, not plastered all over Twitter and Instagram and the news for all to enjoy and stare at.

Part of you wanted his jealousy and possessiveness to come out that night, hoping the territorial beast inside him would come out and play.

He was still out when you returned to your royal suite. He’d texted you he’d be back in a few hours, giving you time to get ready.

You took your purchase into the giant marble bathroom, undressed until you were naked, and carefully unboxed the necklace. The bathroom walls shimmered with the reflected brilliance of light hitting the jewels.

You found it surprisingly heavy as you lifted it from its velvet home. Holding it up, you secured it with the clasp around your neck, then examined your reflection. It was perfect. Exactly as you had imagined.

Satisfied, you took it off, rehoused it and hid the box away before getting into the shower. You had several hours to prepare, allowing you to take your time.

It was close to 5:00pm, an hour before you were supposed to leave, when you finally heard the door open and saw an exhausted T’Challa walked in.

“Bast, these people, all they want do is talk,” He ranted before the door was even closed. From his tone, you knew he was in a foul mood, but the moment he saw you, standing in only your underwear, he softened.

“Come here,” you held out your arms and like a magnet, he was drawn to the inviting warmth of your body. After wrapping him in a hug, you noticed he was distracted at your nearly naked body.

Just you wait, you ain’t seen nothin yet, you thought devilishly.

“I hate being away from you,” his smooth voice lamented in your ear. The palms of his hands grazed your butt and thighs, pulling you up against him. He smelled incredible, and you desperately wanted to feel underneath the clothes covering the hard body you were pressed up against.

“The car is coming for us in half an hour,” he said regretfully, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “Otherwise I would take my time enjoying every inch of this body.”

You were already on fire thinking about your present for him, and he was just adding fuel. You had to separate yourself from him or you’d never get ready in time.

“Save that for tonight,” you winked, withdrawing from his arms. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Your dress was in a black garment protector hanging in the master bedroom closet. You shoo’d T’Challa out to dress in a separate room, and with a mix of nerves and excitement, you zipped into the gown.

The neckline was so low, you would have to be constantly looking down to make sure your nipples were covered, even though the designer promised he’d constructed it to stay up. The colour was an orgasmic, explosion of red that billowed out from two panels in the front around your hips bustle-style to trail behind you in a long train, while at the front, the silky slip part of the dress stopped halfway up your thighs.

Finally, it was time for the showstopper. Your hands were shaking slightly as you lifted the diamonds up to your neck and clasped it, the weight of the cold choker giving you a pleasant shiver.

Lastly, you went back to your cupboard to pick up another item. Lifting it carefully to avoid the sound carrying to T’Challa’s sensitive ears, you arranged the bundle behind your back into one hand, so it would be hidden from view until you were ready to reveal it.

T’Challa knocked on the door. “Y/N, are you ready? The car is waiting outside –“

“Coming!” You reached for the door, knowing he was on the other side and braced yourself as you pulled it open.

T’Challa’s eyes bulged with shock at the cinched, busty, red extravaganza of a dress before him.

Silence and tension brewed between you as T’Challa’s expression hardened, his nostrils flared, and a twitch appeared in his jaw.

“You are not going out in that outfit.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond because T’Challa then noticed what was around your neck. His eyes flickered there, paused, and widened.

“Eh? What is this?”

He closed the distance between you with a single step, until he was close enough for you to hear his breathing, which had quickened noticeably.

You chose that moment to reveal what was behind your back. A slight jangling sound caught T’Challa’s attention, and his eyes snapped up to the chain dangling from your hand.

It was a delicate length of chain made up of thin, silver-plated metal links. On one end was a leather lead, and on the other end, a metal clip designed to attach to the shimmering diamond ring around your neck.  

“It’s a gift … for you.”

You weren’t even sure your words were heard. T’Challa was a million miles away.

You took a small step towards him feeling an intense rush of power at the lust on your husband’s face. After a whole month of planning and anticipating this moment, his stupefied reaction was even better than you hoped.

Wordlessly and trance-like, T’Challa’s pointer and middle finger traced the bumpy, studded jewels, while his eyes blazed with the cold fire reflecting into the dark, inky depths of his eyes. His breathing slowed until you were sure it stopped as he took the lead and chain from your hands. You both watched him lift the clip up, and slowly, carefully, he snapped it onto the ring, leaving the cold length of metal chain to dangle between your breasts.

T’Challa’s expression would have been unreadable if you didn’t know him as well as you did. There were all the signs of a storm raging beneath the surface. His eyes glinted like steel, his jaw twitching, the hand holding the leash clenched in a tight fist. 

Then, he blinked and shook his head, and broke out of the trance with sudden action, quickly unsnapping the lead from your neck and tossing it to the bed.

“We have to go,” he grunted.

“T’Challa?” You bit your lip.

He ran his hand through his coils.  “You know I do not approve of this,” he gestured to all of the skin you had on display, growling, “but I will deal with that later.”

“Do you like my gift?” You touched your neck, worried that his gruffness was a sign of dislike, even though your gut instinct knew better.

He groaned. “I will show you how much I like it later, kitten. We must go.” He put a hand on your back while readjusting the telltale bulge in his slacks.

~ ~ ~

The King and Queen of Wakanda were the darlings of the night. The media loved you. At every red-carpet event, your arrival received the most attention, and tonight was no exception when the stunning King T’Challa stepped out, holding the hand of his gorgeous wife in a gravity-defying gown.

You proudly answered the first question on everyone’s lips, “Who are you wearing?” giving the name of a designer nobody had heard of, and imagined thousands of entertainment reporters, fashion columnists and bloggers furiously googling your answer later.

There was also intrigue surrounding your diamond choker and you had to admit, you did enjoy your husband squirming as you talked nonchalantly about something he’d be leading you around the bedroom with later.

T’Challa was, predictably, uncomfortable at the attention you were receiving, and in more ways than one. On the red carpet, you noticed him staring at your chest during an interview, which was unfortunately captured in a photo later shared online with the caption, We are all King T’Challa.

That night was the most absent minded and nervous you’d ever seen him. Normally he was so composed and in control, but you had to remind him of a few people’s names when you saw him staring blankly, and had to dab spilled wine from his black blazer when he missed his mouth taking a sip. It would have been funny, but you knew somehow, someway, he was going to make you pay for distracting him. Make you pay dearly.

Thank Bast, the speech went perfectly. The moment he was at that podium, the spirit of T’Chaka came to bless him, and you proudly watched as he delivered a beautiful speech that was as engaging and confident as any given by his father. The room erupted with thunderous applause and a standing ovation as T’Challa made his way back, giving a rare smile as he returned to your side.

He kissed your cheek and as the noise around you died down, whispered in your ear, “Can we get out of here now?”

But the curse of being a world leader and a distinguished guest forced you both into several more hours of drinks and conversation. He refused to let you out of his sight, and depending on whether your conversation partner was male or female, he would either be holding your hand, or keeping you locked against his side with his arm possessively around your waist.

At some point, the bottomless glasses of champagne rekindled your desire to enflame T’Challa’s jealousy a bit, and you started getting flirtatious. You began to laugh a little more, give your dreamy smile as you listened, and reached out to subtly brush your arm or hand against whatever man you were talking with.

You felt the heat of T’Challa’s side-eye burning into you, and pretended not to notice.  

As the night was winding down, the venue owner came over to congratulate T’Challa on his speech. Unlike other men, he kept masterful eye contact with you, his gaze avoiding the inviting trap of your ample cleavage.

You were drunk, confident, and still wanting to mess with the jealous beast inside T’Challa, so as the two spoke, you did everything you could to draw his attention down without actually pulling his head into your bosom. “Oops!” You dropped something, and leaned down in front of him. Then, suddenly the front of your dress needed a little readjusting, making you spill out a bit more as they talked.

Then, some champagne missed your mouth. “Oh! I am so clumsy!” All three of you looked down at where it had splashed your breast, and that was when T’Challa had had enough.

Trembling with fury, he abruptly reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you again, but we must go. I am afraid there is an urgent matter to attend to.”

His deadly serious expression and steely tone made the man respond, “Oh, of course King T’Challa,” assuming a serious matter in Wakanda had just presented itself.

It certainly had.

There was a sudden need to handle a certain insolent Wakandan citizen, who happened to be his wife.

A hand, shaking with restrained power, slid around your waist as T’Challa hissed in your ear, “I know what you are doing, and if you think this ends well for you, you are wrong.” His breath was hot on your neck, his words sharp with authority. “Get your things, we are going. And I will not hear another word from you without my permission, is that understood?”

T’Challa’s words sobered you up. Shame crept in and you were about to apologize, but his intense stare made your mouth snap shut.

Silently, you took your purse from the chair and plastered on a fake smile as you passed people on the way out. A few tried to call out to invite you to after parties, but your elbow was in a vice like grip and he yanked you the moment you started to slow, so you waved apologetically instead.

The car took you home in silence. Your hands stayed curled in your lap, playing nervously with the short silk hem on your upper thighs. T’Challa hadn’t spoken since the benefit. When he held the door open for you to enter and exit the car, his eyes were straight ahead, unfocused. Ignoring you.

At the hotel, you both received stares from all directions at the distinguished, royal hotel guests that walked stiffly into the lobby and though you walked close together, a tension and distance kept you emotionally apart.

In the elevator, you could almost hear his thoughts churning. You vibrated with the need to speak, to explain that you were just fucking around, and it was stupid and you were sorry. You wanted your T’Challa back, to be held and cherished in his arms again.

The elevator opened on your private floor directly into your suite. Behind you, T’Challa held the door for you to step in first.

You turned on your heel and for the first time, captured T’Challa’s eyes on yours. You poured every ounce of your regret and apology into your expression but it was as effective as throwing yourself against a brick wall. His eyes were dark and impenetrable, his face a controlled mask.

T’Challa considered you for a long time. So long it made you sweat and shift uncomfortably, while he was perfectly still and composed. When you thought you couldn’t stand his intense gaze any longer, he took a few steps until he was behind you, and his fingers whisked the zipper down your back, parting the dress around you and with a swish it fell to the floor.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded.

“T’Cha–“

He cut you off. “You are not to speak. Forget one more time, and I will find a way to silence you that you will not enjoy.”

The harsh edge to his words caused a flash of heat all over your body.

“Hands and knees.” He repeated impatiently.

Immediately, you lowered down until your palms and knees made contact with soft carpet. Your black panties were new to T’Challa’s eyes, another surprise you wanted to give him, that he was now taking in without a sign of acknowledgement. A man would have to be dead to ignore the allure of your ass, encased in criss crossing black ribbon. It was all you wore. No bra, no stockings, just barely there ribbons of fabric, and your diamond collar.

He disappeared from your side, and accompanying his return was a metal jangling sound. Turning your head, you saw the chain hanging down from T’Challa’s hands, swinging slightly as he walked to you.

T’Challa bent down, and with a clinking sound, he clasped the chain to your necklace. He tested the tautness of it with a small tug just inches from your neck and at the feeling, goosebumps raised your skin and the hairs on your neck.

You felt as if you were floating into new, unexplored, dark places and there was no turning back.

T’Challa’s finger touched your cheek with unexpected tenderness. Your breathing was rough, nervous, excited.

He took a breath to speak.

“You wanted to provoke my anger and jealousy tonight, is that right? You may speak, kitten.”

You raised your misty eyes, overflowing with emotion, up to his face like two shining moons. “Yes,” you confessed.

“You wanted attention. To be seen and wanted.”

“Yes,” you crumpled. You weren’t proud of it, especially hearing it spoken so plainly.

T’Challa sighed, his perfect features in torment. “Then I think I know a suitable punishment.”

Your eyebrows twitched up as you anticipated his next move.

“Come, kitten.”

The metal chain tightened, and you responded to the pull around your neck the only way you could, by crawling forward. In front of you, T’Challa held the leather leash in one hand, and in the other, he had curled the chain around his fingers to keep it tight and control your pace. He walked you into the bedroom like you were his pet, and instead of feeling demeaned, you felt more powerful than a thousand reigning Queens. A gorgeous, proud animal taking her rightful place in her kingdom.

Your crawling steps were slow and steady, following T’Challa until you were next to the master bed.

He slipped the leather loop over the top of the bedpost and with some of the chain, wrapped it around in the same spot, leaving the remaining chain taut, the length between you and the bed short enough that you would be able to move closer to the bedpost, but not further away.

T’Challa lowered himself down, bent at the knees until he was level with you. His bright eyes studied your face.

“You want attention, is that it? Then to punish you, I will leave you here alone.”

A cry rose in your throat and you looked up at your husband, betrayal in your eyes. “What? You-“

“Ah,” He grabbed your chin. “I did not give you permission to speak. You will stay here, quietly, or you will prolong your punishment.”

Your chin wavered and your eyes blurred over with tears as you looked up at the man you worshipped, adored, admired, and loved, who was taking away the one thing you wanted most – him.

Seeing emotion well up inside you, a compassionate look came into his eyes. T’Challa’s heavy hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb rubbing along your esophagus in a soothing gesture.

His tone was soft, sweet. A balm to the sting of his actions.

“You need to be taught a lesson. Do not be angry with me for teaching it. Show me how good you can be, and I will be good to you, my Queen.”

With his words echoing in your head, T’Challa left you in the room and closed the door, cutting you off completely from him. You strained for any sound, even testing the chain to bring your ear closer to the door, but there was no further trace of his footsteps.

You slumped on the floor with defeat. T’Challa had punished you before, but never by removing himself from your reach and you hated it.

Since the day you met him, the soft spoken, thoughtful man who captivated you with his beauty and grace had you hooked, obsessed, with everything he did. You knew the magnitude of your love and want for him was not normal or healthy. Together, your chemistry was explosive. It made headlines, put you on top 10 lists. In bed, he gave you fireworks. Every time. With your every need in life taken care of, the one and only thing you yearned for was more of him. As the leader of a country, you never had enough of his time and attention. You were greedy for it.

Time passed slowly and you had no grasp of how long he was gone for. It could have been hours. Your knees hurt, but still, you were patient, every muscle tight with anticipation for the moment T’Challa returned.

You were so tuned in and sensitive to any trace of him that you sat straight up at the soft shuffling of his feet towards the door with a wildly pounding heart.

The door creaked open. You faced towards it, legs folded under you, back rigid, wearing an expression of hope that you had done enough to absolve yourself.

The sight of T’Challa gave you a powerful injection of excitement, hope, and love. Somehow, he looked more stunning and poised than ever before. You were arrested by his beauty, unable to speak as you looked up into his face.

“My kitten,” his palm touched your cheek and you wanted to cry. The sound of his words after such a long absence were the sweetest drops of warm honey. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, floating in bliss at his nearness. He allowed you to nuzzle him and then he left you to untie the chain at the bedpost.

You watched him with catlike curiosity. He seemed relaxed, moving with slow, purposeful movements as he transferred the leather lead from the bedpost into his hand, then wrapped the chain around in several loops.

He used the leverage to tug at your neck.

“Up.”

After a long time on your knees there was an almighty protest in your bones and muscles as you climbed back up to your full height, standing a whole foot shorter than T’Challa who towered above you.

“Undress me.”

Though spoken just above a whisper, his words, dripping with authority, boomed in your ears.

T’Challa was in a three-piece black suit, while you were nude, making for an erotic contrast as you stood close to each other, almost touching.

With loving care, you began to undress him from his expensive clothes, doing it slowly, while you exchanged occasional glances with T’Challa who watched you intensely.

You took your time as if it was your first time uncovering his body. The sight of his chest as you loosened his shirt filled you with butterflies. Slipping the stiff fabric off his shoulders, your breath caught at the gleaming skin of his musculature. He observed each and every reaction as your hands traced down his chest. He hadn’t said you couldn’t touch him. You wanted to explore him with more than just your fingertips, but knew it would be too much to ask for just yet.

It was difficult to restrain yourself as you unlooped his belt and worked the buttons down. Behind the thin fabric, against your fingers, you felt the press of him and soon you discovered he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. When you pulled the fabric down to reveal him, he bobbed free. It was near impossible to focus on getting his pants off of each leg. It required you to lower yourself to your knees, putting your face so close to his jutting, proud dick and ignore your hunger for it long enough to finish removing his clothes.

When you were done, you looked up, remaining kneeled at his feet. His pleased smile was like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

“Very good, my kitten.”

The small upward curve of his lips and his praise made you flush with heat and pride.

Pressure at your neck forced you up onto your feet as T’Challa tugged the chain. He stepped close to you, so close you felt the brush of his dick at your hip as he whispered, “Now I want to have some fun.”

He leaned back with a sexy, playful smile that made you lose your breath.

T’Challa began a slow walk backwards, letting free some length of chain but keeping you close as you were led to follow. His anger was gone and you were weak with excitement at the way he watched you following with his little grin staying fixed on his mouth.

He backed into the living room and led you towards the sitting area, next to a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window. Two lamps gave off dim, soft light while the city of New York glittered below you.

He bent and confidently lifted you onto the heavy, soft couch.

“Lie back.” His eyes glinted and you obeyed, watching him drop the leash and chain next to you, and you realized what was about to happen as he slid your panties down your legs, then encouraged your thighs wide and kneeled down in front of you.

“You have done just as I asked,” he brushed his nose against your thigh, smiling, “and my Queen deserves a reward.”

Your husband’s mouth lowered to lick the seam between your legs and you screamed.

His tongue, firm and pointed, licked all around your surface, leaving no part of you untasted or unexplored, while you mewled and shook in his hands. He let you make all the sounds you wanted.

His mouth grinded on you, side to side and all around, covering his whole face and beard with you and reveling in your taste and sounds. After withholding his touch from you all night, it was almost too much at once.

All too quickly, your thighs were shaking. No one but T’Challa could get you off this fast. You dug your hands into his coils while the King continued to worship you, moaning with enjoyment, the muscles in his back rippling with movement until you couldn’t hold out any longer. Your toes curled, your thighs and stomach muscles flexed, as you threw your head back and cried with sweet release.

Your moans were music to T’Challa. He licked all around you, inside, along your lips then teasing your clit, until he was satisfied at your dazed, blissful state.

He rested back on his heels, looking so proud of himself, and you caught the movement of his hand moving slowly up and down himself. Horny and hungry for more of you.

Eager for him, you leaned up on your elbows while T’Challa rose onto his knees. His hand gently brushed your stomach, and you both watched his fingers trace along the metal chain between your breasts, following the lead up to your neck. He slowly pulled, and your back parted from the cushions as you rose to meet his waiting lips for your first kiss of the night.

His lips were soft and yielding to yours. He tasted sweet, and you sought out your flavour from his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. You both made sounds of pleasure as your tongues flickered together in teasing licks. Heat thudded inside you and you parted, your foreheads resting against one another.

You both exchanged the same air, panting as you shared a moment of quiet.

His fingers rubbed along the jagged, rough surface of your necklace.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your submission is?”

You smiled warmly. “Not out loud. But you have told me in other ways.” You looked suggestively downward.

“I have yet to punish you for wearing this tonight. For distracting me on such an important night. You do not know how difficult it was to see you wearing this in public, knowing what it meant.”

“I have an idea,” you bit your lip. You felt his warmth and kindness slipping away again, as a wave retreats back out to sea, while you stood on the edge of the shore.

“You think you do kitten. But you do not. You have no idea what thoughts went through my head.”

A hard, dominant edge had returned to his voice. The storm you sensed was crashing, booming, thundering above you, and you were about to be caught in its torrent.

“Turn around. Up on your knees.”

A thrill shot through you sensing what was coming and your stomach was in knots as you arranged yourself on the couch. Now you were facing away, your anchor point gone.  

Both of his palms reached out to caress and rub your cheeks, and he pulled the skin into harsh pinches.

“I have every right to beat this ass raw after how you tempted me tonight,” he uttered, more to himself than to you. His hands continued to rub and squeeze in circles.

“Yes,” you agreed in your most obedient voice.

The first hit came but a second later. A loud thwap as the center of his wide palm connected right at the apple of your left cheek and left you with bursts of colour behind your eyes as pain bloomed in your body.

“Bast,” you whimpered quietly. It was only the first one, and you already had tears in your eyes.

He hit the right cheek next, so abruptly you didn’t realize it until a second later. Again, the sound rang out with a loud clap along with your whimper.

“Four more, kitten.”

One, you whispered, and T’Challa’s next spank was so intense you saw stars.

You crawled forward out of instinct, but all it took was one tug of the chain to bring you back.

“Two,” he counted. A second later, the firm, slapping sound of flesh on flesh rang out, as did your cry.

“You think you should be spared the last two?” He challenged.

Tears pricked your eyes. Your mind was swimming. The metal jangled as he tugged the chain, prompting you to respond.

“Eh?”

“No, I-I deserve it.”

T’Challa’s fingers grazed over the sensitive flesh, slow and soothing, before he cracked against each cheek in quick succession, so fast you had no time to process it before he lifted and gathered you in his arms.

“Shhhh,” he whispered into your ear, noticing your tears that you had lost control of, and the shaking in your chest as you gasped.

Your body left the couch and you were floating, carried through the air in a set of strong arms. A hand caressed your back as you clung to his form. “Shhhh, my love,” his words were at your ear, full of warmth.

The chain was unclipped from your neck as he lowered you onto the bed, following with his body. The tingling pain was already subsiding, but T’Challa handled you gently as if you were made of porcelain.

“Did I hurt you?” his eyes twitched with emotion as they roamed your face.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you held both sides of his face and smiled. T’Challa bent and captured your lips, kissing you softly. You savoured the feel of his lips and marvelled at how gentle he could be.  

Gentle sex with T’Challa was wonderful, but it’s not what you were still craving.

You nipped his lip and looked up at him with a little smirk, your eyes twinkling.

“I want to know. What kinds of thoughts went through your head at the benefit tonight?”

At your question he groaned, burying his head in your chest. “I wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of the whole room, then come on you... Remind everyone who you belong to since you seemed so intent on flaunting yourself.”

Your head fell back at the rush of heat his fantasy gave you. “I would have liked that.”

He continued to speak with his mouth grazing your chest. “I imagined pushing you to your knees and putting that insolent mouth on my dick.”

Your thighs twitched at the thought, as excitement pooled in your core.

“Oooh…. anything else?”

His voice came from your chest, where he was alternating licking and kissing. “Oh kitten, I could go all day. When I spilled wine on myself? I was picturing my hand around your throat, pounding you from behind while everyone watched my horny little Queen trying to take all of her King’s dick.”

You stared in awe as T’Challa looked lustily up at you, sucking the tip of your nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a rough bite, testing you. When you groaned, he did it again, grazing your skin with his teeth, taking another sharp bite.

“T’Challa….” you begged.

“Tell me what you are hoping I will do to you.”

His command made you moan again as you tried to articulate your needs.

“I want... “ You closed your eyes, trying to find the right words.

“Mm,” he prompted.

“Use my body T’Challa. Take what’s yours and own me. I want all of you…” your voice dropped to a whisper, “and him.”

T’Challa lowered his face to your stomach, dark eyes peering up at you and the air around you changed. You both knew what you were referring to.

Your voice was husky and low. 

“Let the panther out. Let him come and play, T’Challa.”

His eyes were totally black, the pupils blown wide. He twitched, something between a rumble and a growl coming from deep inside him. There was something distinctly animal that you felt shift behind his eyes. The way he was crouched over you, you knew you were cornered. If you wanted to get up and leave, he would hold you there with his teeth until he was finished with you.

A dangerous, wild energy surrounded you both as he crawled slowly up your body, eyes hooded, nostrils flaring. His fingers pinched your thighs and pulled them wide and you braced, muscles trembling as he revealed you to him. 

He growled in your ear and thrust all of himself, every inch, deep into your heat without hesitation.

The pain of his entry was immediate, sharp and full in your stomach. Even wildly aroused, his massive size needed adjusting to, but there was no time for mercy.

Hot, animal groans left T’Challa’s throat as he began to fuck into you. His body was unnaturally strong, a gift from the herb, and you felt it trembling behind the surface, barely being held back. The panther was the unseen third party in the room, very much a part of what was happening between you. You could see it in his face. There was an absence, and replacing it was pure, raw need.

He shifted your position to hold your legs up against his chest and drove into you with long thrusts, making the headboard smack the wall. You were both usually talkative during sex, but between you now there were no words exchanged, only moans and hot gasps. You weren’t capable of speech. You felt scattered and thrown apart, your mind only frayed threads. He was so deep you couldn’t think. 

It was an intense fucking unlike anything you’d known. It was like you were trying to rip each other apart. You were pinned. Bitten. Torn. Spanked. Held apart and penetrated like he couldn’t get enough, even though he was taking everything you could give.

You suddenly cried out as you were lifted and weightless, until your back crashed against the wall. T’Challa gripped your hips to still you as he began to fuck you again. It was clear this was not about your pleasure. This was purely T’Challa’s desire, the panther’s desire, to fuck and possess you.

For years, you’d kept to yourself a deep desire to have him this way. Always, he held back. Now, all inhibitions were gone and the thrill and excitement of it made your body unspool and let go.

You tried to reach out and hold him as you began to come. Your mind scrambled, your voice was incapable of sound, your inner muscles tensing and tightening where you were creaming on him being the only outward indication of your orgasm.

His hands moved behind you, parting your back from the wall and you were in his arms, flesh to flesh, rocking in his lap and feeling every shiver and shake as he finally released inside you. He growled and groaned against your shoulder where he sank his teeth. There was so much of his seed, it kept coming and coming with each powerful orgasmic wave. He ground his hips in circles up into your warmth until his growls turned into sighs, the release of his come sobering T’Challa back to himself.

You were sticky, exhausted, your muscles liquified and you slumped forward.

Two arms crossed your back, pulling you against a rapid heartbeat.

“Look at me,” he urged and when his eyes met yours, T’Challa’s face was a frown of concern as he studied you. The tear streaks on your exhausted face, the bite marks were the things he noticed first.

“I went too far,” he declared, voice thick with emotion.

“No, no,” you hurried to banish the remorse shining in his eyes. “The last thing you should be is sorry.”

A few sincere smiles and kisses from you convinced T’Challa there was nothing to worry about. You urged him to crawl under the sheets with you and hold you the way you loved, locked together with his knees behind yours, his arms around your stomach and his face in your neck.

T’Challa couldn’t resist running his fingers over your necklace one more time, before he unclasped it and released your neck from the collar.

“It is beautiful,” he examined it, before carefully placing it on the night stand, and returning to the soft skin of your neck where he placed a slow kiss and whispered, “I would have you wear it again some day, but for now, you may have your freedom,” he smiled.

“A merciful King,” you grinned, running your fingers up and down his arms. “I love you, T’Challa.”

He pulled to tighten you in his arms, rumbling his response and covering your newly bare neck with kisses before you both settled in to sleep.