Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1,600
Characters: T'challa/Maria
Prompt: "i'm a prince and you're my bodyguard and we're so not supposed to bang but we kind of did anyways" au

For: bloodredmoon87

A/N: Just smut, like nothing else whatsoever. Technically set in the royal 'verse but it's not all that apparent because, you know – smut.

the most wonderful time of the year - day fifty-one

They shouldn't have done this. They really shouldn't have.

But god, did she want to. She has for a while, maybe ever since she got placed as his bodyguard almost a year ago, and she's not entirely sure how she held out for this long. He certainly didn't make things any easier. Not with all of his little smiles, and his low, smooth voice always in her ear, telling her how strong she is, how beautiful, how elegant. How he doesn't know if he'd be half the person he is today without her being in his life. How she's maybe the only person who he feels himself with. What does a person even say to that?

He's more than just a client to her, more than just the prince. That doesn't change the fact that he is the prince, and she's his – and they shouldn't have—

"I can hear you thinking," he says, his breath warm against her ear. He's laid out across her, his lips brushing soft, gentle kisses over the column of her throat. He still has one hand on her hip, rubbing his thumb over the curve of it just as he had when she was falling apart around him a few minutes ago, back arched and legs shaking. Fuck. Fuck.

She hadn't realized until just now how long it's been since she's slept with someone. The fact that it was with him, the only person she's really wanted in a long while, just made it so much better. Or worse, if you think about it, even though giving into sexual tension is always so, so good.

"We shouldn't have done this."

His smile doesn't falter, but she feels his fingertips stutter over her hips. He leans forward for a kiss, like he can't quite help it. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she says, and doesn't miss the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes soften ever so slightly, as if in relief.

He skims his lips lower, presses a wet kiss to the column of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her breasts, and she sucks in a soft, sharp breath, digs her nails a little harder into his biceps. "So, if you don't regret it, and I don't regret it," he murmurs into her skin as he moves over the flat of her stomach, "then perhaps that means we should do it again." He presses her legs apart as he settles between them, lifts his head and gives her that incredibly sexy little smile of his. He pauses, seeming to wait for her, and this – this is where she should stop it. Doing this once could've been a slip in judgment. They can still walk away from this with her job intact, maybe even their friendship back to how it'd been.

But she – she wants this. She wants this, wants him. And now that she knows what it feels like for him to touch her, she doesn't ever want him to stop.

God, she's so screwed.

She nods, and then sucks in a breath as he licks a stripe up her center, lets her eyes flutter closed as her head falls back against the pillow. His pillow, that smells like him, and a little bit like her right now, too. She grips at the sheet with one hand, scratches her nails over his scalp with the other.

He laps at her, once, twice, making her hips jump. She's still a little slick and sensitive from the two orgasms he'd given her. It'll take nothing at all for him to work her up again.

He seems to want to take his time doing so, though, because he eases off of her folds, presses his face against the inside of her thigh and presses a kiss there. She glances down at him, catches his gaze as he smiles at her. It's ridiculous that this is what makes her heart flutter, but, she's always been a bit of a sucker for the way he looks at her.

Like he's in awe. Like her very presence brings him peace.

He licks another broad stripe up her center, makes this noise from the back of his throat that makes the warmth in her stomach coil tighter and tighter. He hooks one of her legs over his shoulder, slides his hand over her hip and brushes his thumb over that spot that drove her crazy when he'd been inside her. Right now isn't any different. She lets out this almost pathetic little sound, so he rubs his thumb there again and again, teases at her clit, and she arches her spine. He's working her slowly, almost tentatively, like he wants to savor all of it.

"T'challa," she breathes, and he makes that noise again, licks at her a little harder. She usually calls him prince or your highness. He seems to like hearing her say his name, though.

So she says it again and he all but growls, closes his lips around her little bundle of nerves and suckles gently. Her hips snap, her body arching as she moans, soft and breathy, tugging at the bedsheet.

Then he pulls away almost abruptly, drawing a choked sound from her lips. He lays himself across her again, presses her legs apart and pushes his face into the curve of her neck as he sinks into her. He curses against her skin, his native language coming out in hot, wet puffs against her pulse as he rolls his hips lightly, shallowly. He wants to draw this out, to make it better for her, but fuck. It already is. She's not going to last and she can tell neither is he, which doesn't really matter at all considering they both had one of the most intense orgasms ever with each other just before this. "Move," she says – almost commands – and it must catch him off guard, because he breathes out a bit of a laugh, amusement touching his tone.

"As you wish," he says, pushes in deeper and faster, and she feels her toes curl as she moves with him. Usually it's the other way around – her following his orders – but he seems more than happy to comply. He seems like it's just as pleasuring to him as it is to her.

"Harder," she tells him. She feels her thighs start to twitch, her hips stuttering to meet his thrusts. "I need you harder."

He sort of purrs in response, presses her thigh to the bed and angles his hips and sinks in even harder, even deeper, brushing against that sweet spot that has her arching off of the mattress with a soft cry falling from her lips.

"My queen," he murmurs, making her heart skip as her walls start to flutter around him. She digs her nails into his arms. "My Maria," he breathes out against her lips, and then kisses her, hard. She doesn't understand the tone of complete arousal and adoration in his voice, but fuck, it feels incredible to hear.

She wants to make him feel incredible, too.

"Wait, wait," she breathes out, pushing at his chest, and he doesn't pause, exactly, but slows his strokes, peering at her in confusion. Then she smirks and pushes off of the bed, rolls them over and makes this little noise as she sinks over him, legs straddling his hips hard. He lets out this groan, starts to say her name as if in protest even as he grasps at her hips and thrusts up into her. She actually whines, a shudder rippling over her, her legs twitching, and she digs her nails into his chest. She rolls her hips slowly, trying to catch her breath so that she doesn't come in seconds. He's close, but not quite there yet, and she really, really wants them to come together. "With me, okay?" she says, leaning over him with one hand braced against his headboard. He groans, which feels delicious with the way they're pressed together, and he slides a hand up and cups one of breasts, rolls his thumb over her nipple.

"Yes," he breathes as she rolls her hips. He hooks an arm around her, squeezes her ass as he thrusts up into her. She cries out, grinds down a little harder.

It takes nothing at all for her orgasm to start building again, her legs twitching, hips stuttering through her rhythm, but she can tell that he's close now, too. His breaths are coming out in shorter, shallower puffs, his thrusts growing a little more frantic.

"Darling—" he starts, but then she tosses her head back, scratches her nails down his chest as her walls start to flutter around him.

He grips her hips, thrusts up into her once, twice, three times, and then she's letting out a cry as she falls over that edge. He thrusts through her orgasm, dragging it out as he chases his own high, and she very nearly whimpers when he lets out a groan and squeezes her hips as he comes undone inside of her, her name falling from his lips.

Fuck. Fuck. She falls forward onto him and he pushes his fingers through her hair, holds her close through the tremors. She feels exhausted, weightless, but musters enough energy to lift her head and press a kiss to his lips, soft, gentle.

"Still not regretting it?" he asks, even though his smile tells her that he already knows.

She shakes her head. "Still not regretting it." Eyes twinkling, she presses their foreheads together and nips at his lips. "Perhaps that means we should do it again."

He laughs, deep and rumbling, sending tingles over her skin. "You are going to be the death of my, my queen."

She grins. She likes the sound of that.