Actions

Work Header

Yes, Your Majesty

Chapter Text

Everett Ross had been in tight situations before. 

 

Hell, he’d jumped out of the fire only to end up in an iron frying pan when he chose to become a CIA agent after his career as a pilot. Even before he’d run off to serve his country, he’d had a… tough life. But it had made him stronger, made him the agent he was today. Then why the fuck are you getting a fucking hard-on while you’re on a mission. And with him of all people. 

 

The “him” in question was the King of Wakanda and Black Panther, T’Challa. As for why his dick was straining against his slacks, begging to be freed… They were hiding in an armoire. An armoire that happened to be in the bedroom of their elusive target Reverend Achebe. 

 

They’d managed to track him all the way to the hotel he was staying at in Hong Kong, sneaking into the penthouse bedroom in search of any clues as to where he got his powers. Over the last few months, he’d broached the outside territory of Wakanda and if they didn’t turn things around soon, the Reverend would attempt to usurp T’Challa. 

 

So, they’d followed him to Hong Kong where he was slated to meet with some of Wakanda’s advisories both in the underworld and government. Their search had been cut short by Shuri, T’Challa’s younger sister and genius extraordinaire, warning them that the Reverend was headed their way only seconds before the key card unblocked the front door. They’d had no choice but to hop into the nearest dark space to hide. 

 

What neither of them could have expected was that the Reverend brought home a woman. Or rather, women. Through the small sliver of space between the armoire doors, Everett could see the Reverend on the bed with two women draped over him. But that wasn’t what woke his dick up; it was T’challa’s strong arms braced beside his head and his hot, minty breath wafting over his face. 

 

With every inhale T’Challa took, their chests brushed and the friction made his nipples pucker and become erect under his thin shirt. He could have willed his growing erection away, he was a top CIA agent after all. But the moans and groans that now filled the room made it impossible for him to stop thinking about scenarios. The ones that he dreamed about every so often since working with T’Challa. And it didn’t help that the man in question was well endowed, something he could tell from the other man’s limp member that brushed against his stomach. Keep it together Ross. They’ll be asleep soon enough. 

 

But soon didn’t seem soon enough, as the sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room. The smell of musk and sweat filtered into the tiny space they shared, and Everett prayed to whatever god may exist above that his torment would end. 

 

“Agent Ross,” T’Challa suddenly whispered in his ear, that lilting accent sending more blood rushing to his dick. “You should try and… calm yourself, eh?”

 

He opened his mouth prepared with a snappy comeback, but it evaporated to thin air as T’challa brushed against him again. Idiot, I can’t calm down with you so close. 

 

“You know,” T’Challa continued in his ear, “Shuri says you look at me funny. I’ve always thought she was just pulling my leg but…” He trailed off as he took a hand and placed it over Everett’s chest, over his thudding heart. “It seems she may have been right.”

 

“We. Are. On. A mission !” The words were hard to get out, and were above a whisper, not that their target could have heard over his groans and shouts like, “You like that bitch!”

 

Rather than respond, T’Challa traced his chest over his shirt, his finger circling over one of Everett’s erect nipples. Against his better judgment, Everett let the other man touch him. He wouldn’t do anything to compromise the mission… right? 

 

Sure they’d been working as “partners” for years, but if Everett really thought about it, there were so many things he still wanted to know about the King of Wakanda. The one thing that bonded them and why they worked (mostly) well together was their sense of duty. As such, he figured that the other man’s determination to capture the single highest threat not to just his people, but the world, would prevent any shenanigans. Regardless of the circumstances. 

 

And yet… Here the King was, slipping a cool, dry hand under his shirt. Everett could only hold his breath as two fingers pinched at his erect nipple before pulling it gently. “Ngh !”

 

“Agent Ross, no, Everett . Since we will be here for a while, I shall help you with this.” He emphasized the end of his statement by purposely rubbing himself against Everett’s erection. Another hand joined the first in teasing Everett’s nipples. 

 

He felt his cheeks heat and knew that he was blushing scarlet. He was embarrassed at being hard, but even more so at the wet spot forming in his boxer briefs in response to T’Challa’s careful teasing of his nipples. 

 

“Y-you don’t have to do that.” It took all his strength to get the words out in a whisper. 

 

“It is distracting to have my partner in such a state.”

 

“I’ll just think of dead puppies or some— ssshit!” The back of Everett’s head thudded into the wall of the armoire but he hardly noticed that bite of pain, too focused on the hand that had deftly slipped into the front of his pants.

 

The same hands that shook hands with their allies and rained down on their enemies now caressed him gently through the fabric of his wetting underwear. Everett lifted a hand in an attempt to push the other man away but ended up gripping at the silky material of T’Challa’s shirt as the other man pulled out his straining erection from the hole in the front of his boxer briefs. 

 

“You must be very lonely,” T’Challa practically purred in his ear as he wrapped a large hand around him. 

 

“T-t-that quite frankly is none of your business.” They were just words with no bite. He felt every callous and crease in the hand that moved up and down his length slowly. 

 

He tried to protest again but moaned instead as the King twisted his nipple again while rubbing the head of cock with his thumb. Everett’s head fell forward onto T’Challa’s shoulder and he gripped at the other man’s shirt tighter. “S-stop it!”

 

“I do not think that’s possible now.” 

 

The hand that had been fondling him underneath his shirt and pumping his shaft were suddenly gone and Everett breathed a sigh of relief. This was short-lived though as he felt hardened flesh rub against his twitching member. Too scared to open his eyes for confirmation, Everett reached for what rubbed against his erection and gasped. 

 

In his occasional wet dreams, he’d always envisioned T’Challa with a massive cock, both long and with considerable girth. The hardened flesh, almost as hard as vibranium, went above what he’d dreamed over the last few years and he could feel his precum wetting T’Challa’s cock as the other men rubbed their members together. The friction alone was enough to bring Everett close to orgasming. Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s been so long

 

“Take them in your hands Everett.” The command had him complying before he could comprehend his actions. 

 

“And here, open your mouth.” He followed the other man’s directions again, finally looking up at the King in the dark as cotton filled his mouth. 

 

The other man had lifted his shirt up and put the bottom hem in his mouth, leaving his chest and stomach exposed. As well as their members which he gripped in both hands. Everett’s saliva wetted the cotton in his mouth in no time as he gazed at their erections rubbing against each other with each slight movement of T’Challa’s hips. 

 

“Try to keep your voice down, Agent Ross . Don’t want to blow our cover.”

 

Brat, Everett thought helplessly as T’Challa began to fondle his chest again. The friction as their members rubbed against each other combined with the feel of them in his hands liquified his lower belly and all he felt was heat. At the crook of his neck, he felt the King’s hot breath. 

 

His balls tightened when he felt teeth and a tongue graze the sensitive flesh there. Everett’s hands slackened from sensory overload and a sharp bite at his neck made his hips buckle from their rhythmic thrusts. 

 

“Don’t let go.” T’Challa suckled at his neck before finding his ear again. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

 

“Y-yes your majesty,” Everett said around his now soaked shirt hem. He could taste his own arousal in the back of his throat, sharp and sweet. 

 

“You’re doing a good job of staying quiet, but can you keep it up I wonder?”

 

Everett shuddered in response to T’challa’s throaty voice. He’s too good at this , he thought to himself while the other man covered his hand gripping them both, The other hand at his chest drifted down his stomach lightly before creeping to his lower back.

 

“I’m going to move faster now.”

 

The hand at his lower back drifted to his ass, gripping it tightly. Everett felt nails dig into the vulnerable skin and the bite of pain elicited another moan from his lips. Luckily, their target was still going out with his female friends, and their mewling whimpers drowned out his muffled groans as they both thrust against each other faster. 

 

Flesh slick with arousal and their muffled grunts created their own symphony inside the confined space of the armoire. Everett didn’t hear the activities of their target anymore. I’m… close! 

 

Suddenly, T’Challa leaned forward, pushing him flush against the back wall of the armoire so that they were closer. The hand that had wrapped over his hand gripping their erections moved to yank the shirt out of Everett’s mouth.

 

“I c-c-can’t keep quiet,” he whimpered unashamedly as the other man gripped his jaw. 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be professional?” On the last word, T’Challa’s tongue licked the upper ridge of his ear. “You’ve never had any issues on previous missions.”

 

“W-with all due respect to your majesty—” The sound of a door slamming against the wall cut Everett off. 

 

“Reverend, we found Black Panther’s operatives and have them in the other room. Waiting for your instructions, sir!”

 

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” The shout was followed by a loud whimper from one of the women. 

 

“B-but sir, they seem to be from that unit.”

 

All sound ceased and Everett let go of their members and wiped his hand on his rumpled shirt. Fuck, I wonder if that’s Shur’s unit? The Princess of Wakanda luckily was monitoring remotely as she often did, but if her people had been captured, it was only a matter of time before they were stripped of their tech. Tech that would invariably lead back to where Shuri was staying for the mission. 

 

“All right whore, daddy’s gotta go torture his enemies. This nice man here will take you to your rooms until I get back.” Two loud smacks were followed by giggles. “Make sure to keep it wet for me!”

 

Everett breathed an internal sigh of relief. Once they leave, I can finally get out of here! But as he heard the sound of their retreat, embarrassment welled within him. He couldn’t look T’Challa in the eyes after what they’d almost done. When the door closed, taking away their mark and his company, he forced himself to clear his throat. “W-we need to—”

 

“I do not know about you,” the King said, voice tense as he gripped their combined girths in his hand, “but I will not be satisfied until I come.”

 

“Y-your majesty you can’t be serious!” Even as he protested, T’Challa’s rough hands and his rock hard cock thrusting against his brought him back into the fog of lust. 

 

“Just… a little… more!”

 

The wood of the armoire dug into Everrett’s back, but the pain swirled into an intoxicating mix of sensations as the King thrust harder and faster. He gripped at the other man’s shoulders and he felt his cheeks clench as his orgasm threatened to overtake him. 

 

“Everett, look at me.”

 

The light filtering through the crack between the doors allowed him to see T’Challa’s dark gaze on him, and the desire burning there. His white teeth dug into his plush bottom lip and Everett couldn’t help but let out a moan at how unbridled his partner looked. 

 

“Come for me.”

 

Both men gasped and groaned as their orgasms rippled through them, and Everett shivered from both the intense sensation and feeling something thick and warm splatter onto his stomach before dripping into his pubic hair. 

 

They remained in post-orgasmic bliss, clutching at each other and Everett couldn’t resist the small smile that lighted his face. Better than any dream.