He's always been so much more careful. Always.
But there's nothing careful about the way he presses her against the door, hot mouth on hers, greedy hands already skimming under the thin slip of her dress to cup her ass, to lift her up and pull her into him.
And she wants him too, just as bad as he wants her. It's written in the sweat of her skin, the way she whimpers into his kiss, the way she grinds her hips up against him into a tantalizing, steady rhythm.
"Fuck, Shuri, fuck." is all he can gasp into her mouth, because damn! she's got him exactly where she wants him and fuck! he can't bear her teasing, not for much longer, anyways.
"I've missed you, Ingcuka..." she purrs, tugging painfully at his hair, as if to show him exactly how much.
"Bast, Shuri." he murmurs into the smooth curve of her neck, trying to hold back, trying to stay sane. "I've missed you too, love."
She kisses him again for that. Something soft and sweet, something that completely belies the hot desperation coursing through his veins, the sheer sexiness what she does next.
Shuri grins. Pulls him in real close, so she can whisper --
"Then show me just how much you missed me, White Wolf."
And in one practiced, fluid motion, she hooks her fingers into the band of panties and slips them off, so they drop unceremoniously to the floor.
Just. Like. That.
And really, that's all it takes. For his brain to shut off, in its entirety.
So he takes her at her word without another thought.
The next thing he knows, he's gathered her up in his arms, kissing her something hot and raw and painful. She moans into his mouth, gasps when he carries her over and pushes her onto her desk, sending the random files on it flying.
Oops. Too bad he can't be damned.
Every last thought in his head is focused on her. How to ravish her, how to take her, right now. Because he has to have her. Because it's been so damn long.
She has the sense to unbuckle his belt for him, which is fantastic because he doubts he'd have the presence of mind to do it as fast as he'd like, not with her whining and sighing beneath him like this.
And she's scarcely finished with him when he roughly pushes her knees so they're over his shoulders, pulls his pants down, and presses himself into her.
They moan together when he enters her. And when she bucks her hips ever-so-slightly against him he growls into her neck, hardly able to hold back the cloud of lust threatening to engulf him.
Usually, he goes a bit slow at the start, tries to be a bit gentle.
But this time, he can't. Because she's already warm and wet and tight around him.
She's been wet for him for so long, he realizes. Fuck.
So he thrusts into her, instead. Pulls himself all the way out, then back, hard enough that the vibranium desk shakes.
Shuri gasps sharply at the motion, and he doesn't miss the way she throws her head back, the way she arches to take more of him, feel everything.
"Again," she commands him, and he complies. Over and over and over again.
Then there's just her, the feel of her, so warm and wet and perfect around him. Gasping and crying out for him. Only him.
And yeah, maybe he should have been more careful. But in that moment, those thoughts are far away, miles away.
Which is why neither of them ever notice a tiny mechanical bug perched on the opposite wall, recording his every last thrust and heated moan, every last shuddering sigh from her lips.