I was so happy to be married to my man. To have Steve as my husband. Husband. It still felt strange on my tongue, strange but right. I couldn't stop beaming, all through the posed wedding photos we took in the gardens after the ceremony.
Every time I looked at Steve, his eyes were on me, on my face, as if he were drinking in my every movement. How on earth did I inspire such devotion? I couldn't believe a man like him loved me like that. Loved me, like that. And yet he did.
We drifted towards a small pavillion at the edge of the royal gardens with our guests. Shuri and her bother T'challa, as well as a couple of other Wakandans familiar to the wedding party joined us, though it was still quite a small gathering, so rather than a proper reception – which was being delayed until our return to the States – we planned just light refreshments before we left them for our honeymoon.
I tried to gracefully flop down in the chairs set under the shade for us. In the typical Wakandan heat, I was already regretting the tight bodice and lining layers of my wedding gown. No, I look damn good. It's worth it, I reminded myself. A nearby fountain cooled the air slightly, and the gently babbling soon had me feeling less hot and sticky.
"Those were beautiful vows. Did you write them yourself?" Naledi complimented Steve, once we had all helped ourselves to the light, fruity cake and tart, sparkling punch.
"I just spoke from the heart. I didn't prepare anything ahead of time," he answered.
Naledi's face opened in surprise.
"You get used to it," Sam interjected. "Steve's always got the right words for the occasion."
"Rachael makes it easy," Steve replied, taking my hand in his, and shining a look at me that made my insides melt. I'd marry him again tomorrow if I could.
"Fortunately," Nat said, "we warned Rachael ahead of time, so she had plenty of time to come up with something just as lovely for her vows."
"They were beautiful," Steve agreed, "I'll remember them always."
Conversation flowed naturally among our party. I had briefly been concerned that the presence of a ruling monarch, the dowager queen, and their honour guard might make people a little less easy, but T'challa and his mother were perfectly pleasant, and seemed to have a jovial friendship with Steve, Bucky and Nat. And with Shuri there, there was no way for any level of formality to take hold. My mother and Queen Ramonda even seemed to be striking up a friendship. Mum chaired an economics research institute, and Wakandan queens were far from figureheads, so they happily set to shop talk.
As the afternoon wore on, the conversation drifted to the forthcoming public reception. I was apprehensive about the changes going public would have on the lives of my loved ones, but Sam was reassuring on how quickly people lost interest in little details once the first shock of things wore off. I noticed that same spark between him and my sister that was there when I introduced Steve to my family, although this time, they were mercifully not flirting as shamelessly. Maybe there was something there. Or maybe I was just in the frame of mind to see love wherever I looked. I shrugged happily.
"It's really not as bad as you might think," Natasha said, "The fear of people knowing is worse than the reality. You learn pretty quickly that it only matters what your friends and loved ones think. When I dumped all the SHEILD files on the world, I thought that was the end of my personal life. But, it turned out that it didn't matter to the people I cared about, and the people who cared about it didn't matter.
"We're not such a little family anymore, the Avengers, but we take care of our own."
I worried a little about how dubious my sister looked at this turn of the conversation, but my mother at least looked nonplussed.
I shifted topics instead to Tony's parties, and how memorable the two I had attended had been, and people broke up into little groups to socialise.
Steve and I took the opportunity to slip off to a private room in the pavillion to change. We intended a change of clothing for the trip out of the city for my honeymoon. I didn't want to travel in my wedding gown, and Steve was happy enough to change out of his suit, despite its being linen, and into fewer layers to better fit the African heat. Mum had promised to pack up my dress for me, storing it away, until I decided how long I wanted to keep it. I was intent on the task at hand, stepping out of my heels, and gathering my hair over my shoulder.
"Could I give me a hand with the zipper?"
Steve stepped close to me, "Of course." I could feel the heat of his body at my back, and suddenly I realised we were alone: for the first time as husband and wife.
I let out a soft breath as Steve slowly slid the toggle of my zipper down, the opening freeing my torso from the snug-fitting bodice. With the constriction suddenly released, I realised how tight it had been. I let out a humm of pleasure as Steve slipped his hand through the opening at the back of my gown, warm palm encircling my ribs, fingers smoothing out the red indentations left in my skin. The humm turned to a moan as his other arm wrapped around my body, reaching down my chest and slipping inside the neckline of my dress to press into my breast, fingers caressing lazy circles.
"I've been wanting to do that all day."
"Really?" I asked in mock surprise, "But Steve Rogers is always such a gentleman."
"Don't you know the effect you have on me?" he growled as he pulled me closer, pressing his body into mine, bending his head to nuzzle at the side of my neck. He marked little nibbling kisses from the tender spot just below my ear, down to the tip of my shoulder.
I reached my arm up behind me to run my fingers through his hair, then turned my head to whisper in his ear, "I want some privacy for what I'm going to do to you."
Definitely responding to the tone, but not quite catching my meaning, he ran his hands down the sides of my body, sloughing off the dress, so it dropped from my body into a pile of airy fabric at my feet. Hands on my hips, he spun me around to face him, and I let my body fall into his, knowing he would catch my weight deftly, lifting me up towards his lips, and out of the circle of my dress on the floor.
All I wanted was to slip my hand inside the front of his pants, and take him in my palm. Stroke him until I made him as happy as he had made me, but I held back. I could feel him rising to the occasion as he deepened our kiss, but the opportunity to get him all to myself, to get some time all to ourselves - not stolen moments at the Avengers compound, but to actually live together on our own - was calling me.
"Not yet. Everyone's waiting for us just the other side of that door. I want some privacy, some true privacy, for what I'm going to do to you."
This time realising what I meant, Steve let out a puff of air out the side of his lips, ruffling his bangs, hair-gel softened in the heat. "As you wish," he said, "you're not making it easy, you know," as he adjusted himself from six to midnight, gesturing at my topless form.
"Let's blow this party then," I said as I slipped a loose trapeze dress over my head, deciding to skip the bra in this heat.
Steve put on the gas, and by the time I had found my sandals and slipped them on my feet, he had shucked the last layers of his suit, swapping them for a coarse-woven tunic and pants, and folding them neatly for my mother to collect when she packed up the dress.
"Ready when you are," he said, extending his hand towards me.
And so we exited back towards the party, making our goodbyes quickly, ignoring the sideways glances people exchanged at our obvious haste, and headed out of the city to start our honeymoon.