Chapter 4
She has another new tattoo. She seems to have constant new ink embedded in her skin, each time she returns home to M’Baku. It’s not that he minds—he wouldn’t ever dream of telling his love what she can or can’t do with her body—but it is always an adjustment. It aches in a strange, abstract way to know she’s out there changing without him nearby. All he can do is catalog each and every nuance when she’s back with him before she leaves again and the cycle repeats.
“You are,” she gasps under him, “thinking far too hard.”
He hums, turns his face, presses his lips to the lines along her knee. A honeybee, ornate and fuzzy like it might pop off her skin and buzz around them. Her skin is soft under his touch save for the raised texture of the ink. He drags his tongue over the lines like he can taste the art rather than her sweat-sticky skin.
“M’Baku,” she pants, squirming, “enough, already.”
“It is not my fault you come home with so many changes for me to memorize.” Even so, he drags himself away from her knee, the new ink, and settles her legs around his waist instead. Her back arches, urging him closer, until he can very nearly slide inside of her. “I have to find each and every new facet to you, and you don’t give me much time to accomplish such a feat.”
She reaches up and grips the back of his neck; the strength of the heart-shaped herb makes it easy for her to haul him closer and nip at his bottom lip. “You can catalog later, old man. There are more pressing matters.”
Rather than wait for him, she reaches between their bodies with her unoccupied hand and grips his cock. His hips jerk, a gasp catches in his throat, and he lets her guide their bodies together. He sinks into her slowly, though he knows she’d prefer it hard and fast, and lets out a keening moan. They’ve only done this a handful of times, but each time makes him dizzy. He’s known the bodies of others, men and women alike, but none of them were Shuri.
He sinks in until there’s nowhere else to go. Her legs are tight like a vice around his waist and he falls forward, bracketing her lithe frame with his arms. Her hands run greedily along his muscles. She traces the shapes of his biceps up to his neck before raking her nails down his back.
“My King,” she breathes, “that’s it.”
She squirms, always restless. He lets her wiggle and take her pleasure. He watches Shuri roll her hips as she likes. While M’Baku prides himself on being an attentive lover, he can’t help but enjoy Shuri using him as she pleases. He presses his forehead to her shoulder and stares between them as she grinds down on his cock until her thighs tremble.
He drags a hand down her side—familiar ink sings under his touch, a tapestry woven into her skin from her travels—until he can cup her ass in one palm. He digs his knees into the bedding and pulls out slowly, relishing her dreamy sigh and heavy-lidded eyes. She goes limp beneath him, ready for whatever he chooses to dole out.
He could torment her, deliciously so. He could go slow and steady, fucking into her at a snail’s pace. She would claim to hate it; she’d scratch up his back and howl like a wolf for him to go faster, harder, deeper. As tempting as that is, he feels generous tonight.
He pauses with just the fat tip of his cock resting inside her. He leans back and takes her by the hips; her arms fall from his shoulders to grip at the sheets beneath them. He glances up at her flushed face, the way her mouth hangs open in a gasp. He drops his gaze again and thrusts in hard and fast, watching his cock disappear into her clutching wet heat.
She cries out, loud, and he sends up a thankful prayer that his chambers in the kingdom are secluded and unguarded. Her wail of pleasure echoes off the walls as his hips piston into her. Underneath the crude wet slap of their bodies coming together, his grunts and her groans, is the telltale sound of sheets ripping.
“My Panther,” he gasps, fond. She doesn’t seem to hear him. Her whole body is tense and her eyes are glazed over. M’Baku never lets his pace falter, even as his muscles begin to ache. It will be worth it, he knows, to drive her hard and fast over the edge before tormenting her with a second orgasm.
Her moans hiccup to a stop; he feels her come before he sees it. Her cunt clenches tight around him, the rhythm of her heartbeat frantic like a hummingbird. Then she’s gasping for air, hands scrambling along the sheets, and her hips can’t stop twitching. Her eyes fly open and he meets her gaze, smirking.
She wants to snap at him, he can tell, but all she can do is gasp for breath. His thrusts have slowed to a stop, to give her a moment of reprieve, but his cock does not soften as he watches her come down from the high. She reaches for him and he goes willingly yet again. She wraps around him like an octopus; it’s ridiculous, but he finds it quite likes it. She pants against his chest, breath hot and sticky, until her heart has slowed down—something he can feel only because of how tightly they’re pressed together.
She kisses the hinge of his jaw and he hums; she pushes at him gently and he rolls. He winds up on his back with Shuri in his lap. She looks even smaller this way, sitting daintily abroad his thick thighs. Her callused fingers drag along his abdomen; her nails tickle the thick trail of hair leading southward. His cock is still inside her and he has a perfect view of it from this angle. Her slick mats their hair down and her clitoris is flush with arousal.
He groans at the sight alone. Shuri smirks at him this time.
She rises and falls like a wave lapping against the shore, and he adores her for it. Call him a sap, but there is something wonderful about slow and easy lovemaking. He enjoys all their trysts—he particularly enjoys when she debauches him in her laboratory—but it is rare to see Shuri slow down. She is always thinking, planning, fighting, traveling. To have her trembling in his lap, riding his cock like she wants nothing more than to savor the feeling, is the greatest gift.
The view isn’t half-bad, either. Her breasts are small and perky, her nipples dark and firm as M’Baku flicks at them. Along her ribs are beautiful patches of ink, none of them the same style and yet all of them fitting together perfectly. Her thighs are dotted with moles that later, M’Baku will trace with his tongue. He brings his thumb to her clit and lets her grind into his touch.
Her hair bounces with each roll of her hips; it is longer now, longer than it has been for some time. He enjoys her curls, the way an especially stubborn one falls into her face. Normally she huffs a breath, blows the curl away with disdain. Now, though, she pays it no mind as he braces her hands on his stomach and grinds down harder, faster.
He stills her with a hand on her hip. The other is still between her legs, thumb against her clit. “Slow for me, my Panther,” he chides. It takes more restraint than he’d care to admit not to come when she instantly obeys, her pace slowing down.
She bites her lip; it’s the same look of concentration she gets during her training, or when she’s tinkering with an especially complicated project. He feels honored to be given the same level of attention as her passions. It’s wonderful to be treated so carefully as her precious technology.
She whimpers and clenches around him. Her voice is low and soft as she gasps, “M’Baku, please, more.” Even so, she doesn’t break the pace. She could easily take what she wants and they’d both enjoy it, but instead she asks this of him so sweetly.
He plants his feet flat on the bed and thrusts up, hard and fast, and Shuri lets out a shocked cry. Her nails dig into the meat of his stomach and she trembles in his lap. M’Baku presses his thumb to her clit and lets the motion of his thrusts jostle her. She writhes in his touch, senseless moans and gasps falling from her lips.
He gives himself away to the mindless chase of pleasure as he pounds into his beloved. Blood is rushing in his ears, heartbeat pounding, but he can still make out her desperate cries as she gets closer and closer. He doesn’t protest when she bats his hand away to toy with herself instead, not when he can feel every ripple of pleasure inside her.
She throws her head back on one particularly hard thrust and clenches tight around his cock. Her fingers move clumsily against her clit and the cacophonous sounds of their fucking turns even slicker. She’s still gasping as M’Baku’s own orgasm hits him just moments later. He finally lets his eyes fall shut as the pleasure overwhelms him.
Shuri shivers in his lap and pokes at his cheek. “C’mon, old man, I’m sticky.”
“Can you not let me bask for a moment?” He doesn’t open his eyes. He runs his hands up her sides and across her back, encouraging her to lay against his chest. She doesn’t take much convincing. “So fast with you, always hurrying. Enjoy the moment, my Panther.”
She sighs noisily against his chest but settles in, her chin digging between his pectorals. She shudders again as his cock softens, grimaces as his come starts to leak out. “Do you really enjoy this?”
“Being hounded by a preternaturally strong young woman who insists on mocking me and defying tradition? Yes, it’s my favorite pastime. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of.”
Shuri twists his nipple in retaliation. “The lying here. The mess.”
“I do,” he confirms. “Mess is good, sometimes. Nothing is meant to stay perfect forever.” Even so, he helps her shift to lay beside him rather than on top of him. His thighs are a mess of sweat and slick, and he imagines between her legs is no better. He gives a shiver of his own as he imagines watching his own seed slip from her. “Mess is natural, it is good.”
Shuri doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t try to leave the bed either. She curls against M’Baku’s side and rests her head on his shoulder. “I don’t have much experience with this.”
M’Baku only hums. He knew this, they discussed it briefly; it doesn’t bother him one way or another what her past is like. She’s with him now, and that’s all that matters.
“The after, I mean,” she continues unprompted. “I haven’t done this much.”
“I would be glad to show you all the wonderful parts of after, Panther, if you’d like.” He grins at her, just a touch lascivious.
Her bright laughter lightens the mood instantly. “Surely no ulterior motive, hm?”
“My only motive is making you feel good, Shuri,” he tells her seriously. “Always.”
He searches her gaze for a reaction, but only finds glee. Simple, pleasant, sweaty glee. She cups his cheek briefly and he leans into the touch. They linger in that pose before she kisses him and finally rolls away.
“I have to pee,” she says plainly, “and when I come back, you can show me more ‘wonderful parts’ of this after.”
M’Baku watches her hips sway as she walks into the attached bathroom, and only barely manages to hide his lovesick grin by the time she dives back into bed with him.