Spoils

Erik woke up before the first rays of sunlight had even filtered through their giant floor-length window. He had always been an early riser, a habit cultivated since he was in the army when he had to wake up at the crack of dawn. He had carried this habit over to Wakanda. The herb seemed to have aided in this, too - he no longer needed as much sleep as before. He could go to bed at one in the morning and wake up refreshed only three hours later. 

Erik opened his eyes and stretched lazily, then turned on to his side, coming face to face with T’Challa.

In sleep, T’Challa’s face looked soft and unguarded. His eyes were closed, his lips were slightly parted and his long dark lashes fluttered as Erik watched him sleep. Was he dreaming? 

A sudden surge of affection washed over Erik as he gazed upon the soft, dreamy expression on the sleeping omega’s face. They had slept so late last night after multiple rounds of sex that T’Challa had to be exhausted. No wonder he was sleeping so soundly. 

As if magnetically attracted to his peacefully sleeping mate, Erik placed his hand over T'Challa's smooth, dark thigh. He began to pet T'Challa gently, watching closely for his reaction as he stroked upwards in small circles until his hand was just at the crease between T'Challa's ass and thigh. 

T’Challa didn’t stir, but his eyelashes fluttered briefly before his breathing evened out again. 

Erik could feel a wicked smile spreading slowly across his face. God, T'Challa was just perfect like this, looking so soft and vulnerable, just begging to be ravished by a big bad alpha. He wondered just how much fun he could have with T’Challa before he started to wake up.

Erik scooped T'Challa close towards his own chest with one arm carelessly thrown around T’Challa’s shoulder. T'Challa himself be rolled towards Erik, pliant and unresisting. He inwards to nuzzle his face into his alpha’s chest, instinctively seeking Erik’s scent and warmth. 

Another wave of soft affection washed over Erik. That his mate was starting to become so receptive was a good sign of a strong bond. He continued to stroke T'Challa's thigh, then moved his hands up to knead and squeeze at T'Challa's firm, round ass, taking care not to apply too much force. He didn't want to wake T'Challa up too early. Let his tired mate sleep for a while longer - he could have as much fun as he wanted with T'Challa even while he was asleep. 

T'Challa didn't really react to the groping, except for making a small muffled noise, almost but not quite like a moan. His legs parted slightly, allowing Erik to slip his finger between the cheeks of his ass. He was still naked from last night's activities - Erik hadn't let T'Challa get out of bed to change into pajamas, and T'Challa had been too exhausted last night to insist on it. 

T'Challa let out a small sigh as Erik started rubbing the pad of his finger over the tight clench of his little hole. He was still tight and dry, but as Erik continued to stimulate him, he could feel growing wetness beneath his finger as T'Challa's body began to slick itself up. It was hot. 

T'Challa squirmed, his breath beginning to quicken into short little pants. His hole was now slick and loose enough for Erik to slip one finger in comfortably. T'Challa's inner walls were velvety smooth, rippling around his finger as his body squeezed down against the sudden intrusion. 

"Erik? What are you doing?" T'Challa's voice was hazy with sleep and disorientation. His eyes were still half-closed, his dark lashes fluttering as he tried to blink the fatigue away. 

"Morning, babe," Erik purred. He was a little disappointed that he had woken T'Challa up so soon. "Just relax." 

Erik crooked his finger within T'Challa, rubbing against his inner walls. Then, judging that T'Challa was already relaxed enough, he squeezed in a second finger beside the first. T'Challa's body opened up easily for him, stretching to accommodate his fingers as Erik spread him open. 

"What - ohh." T'Challa squirmed deliciously as Erik began to finger-fuck him.

The urge to knot his mate was rising to the forefront of Erik's mind. With difficulty, Erik slapped it down. He had knotted T'Challa enough times on their wedding night that he had to be quite sore, even if T'Challa was being wonderfully cooperative right now. Each thrust of his fingers made T'Challa squirm and arch back, trying to get more of Erik into himself. Erik teased at his prostate with the tip of his fingers, rubbing at that pleasure spot as T'Challa began to let out breathless little moans.

"Hook your leg over me," Erik directed, and T'Challa obeyed, flushed and trembling as he lifted his left leg and hooked it over Erik's hip. With his legs spread even wider, Erik was able to penetrate him even more deeply than before, thrusting his fingers inside T'Challa all the way to the base where his fingers met the palm. Idly, Erik wondered just how much more T'Challa could take up there. Three fingers, definitely. Four fingers? Five? 

Erik pushed that distracting fantasy out of his mind and focused all his attention on wringing more pleasure out of T'Challa's body. T'Challa was getting so worked up that he was starting to hump against Erik's body, his cock grinding into the lower half of Erik's abs. Most omegas could come from penetration alone, and there was a school of thought that omegas shouldn't be allowed to come by any other means and should be trained to come only on their alphas' cocks, but Erik didn't believe in that. He had always liked his omegas' intense reactions when he stroked their cocks or clits. Why deprive them of that additional pleasure? 

It wasn't really necessary with T'Challa, though. T'Challa came more quickly than Erik had expected, just by Erik's fingers and by grinding against him. A soft gasp fell from his lips, and then he was clenching tightly around Erik's fingers, his inner walls rippling as come spurted out of his cock and onto Erik's belly. It was thin and watery, sterile like a typical omega's come. 

Feeling extremely satisfied with himself, Erik pulled his fingers out of T'Challa with a wet, lewd noise. T'Challa looked, if possible, even more embarrassed. He tried to wipe away at the streaks of come painted on Erik's abs, but Erik pushed his hand away. 

"I'll clean up later," Erik said. "You go back to bed." 

"You're getting up so early?" T'Challa asked. 

"I don't need that much sleep," Erik replied. 

T'Challa flushed. "...You're really leaving?" he asked in a small voice. 

Erik considered it. He had wanted to exercise and get some reading done as he usually did every morning, but that was before he had known that T'Challa wanted company. T'Challa probably didn't like sleeping alone. Maybe he wanted to cuddle? Erik thought it was cute.

He got back in bed and wrapped an arm around T'Challa. There would be some stains, but the servants could always clean up the sheets later. 

T'Challa snuggled up to Erik immediately, the tension draining out of his body. He tucked his head under Erik's chin, his soft, warm breaths tickling the front of Erik's chest. 

Erik closed his eyes. Even though he wasn't tired, he was so warm and comfortable that he soon found himself drifting back into sleep.