InsaneJournal

Who: T’Challa and Bast
When: 4th of July
Where: A view somewhere of the fireworks, then, Stark’s secret hanger
What: Fireworks! Romance! A secret ship!
Rating/Warning: Very high, for sexy adult situations in an elevator and a ship.
Status: Complete



T’Challa had to admit, as a naturalized citizen, he never got tired of the Fourth of July. The very idea that a country as huge as the U.S. celebrated their independence with such fervor had always captured his imagination and emotions. He’d been adopted as a boy of 13 out of the violence of the Congo and into a loving home in the U.S. In the Midwest where he grew up, they had parades and everyone would set off fireworks in their backyards, and there was always an abundance of food. At first he’d found it startling, and a bit scary with the fireworks, which reminded him at first of the sounds of guns from back in Africa. But over time, he grew to love the traditions as much as anyone else.

Which was why as he sat with Bast on a grassy overlook that only a few locals seemed to know about, he watched the fireworks go off in their bright colored splendor with the wide eyed look of wonder like a child.

“You know,” he said to Bast between the pops and crackles of the fireworks, “When I was a child I didn’t understand why people would fire these things into the sky. I thought perhaps they were fighting, or asking for help. But then my parents explained to me that it was a celebration of freedom and a tradition that went back to 1777 in Philadelphia during the first Independence Day celebrations.”

Bast had grown up in the US, so she’d grown with the traditions. Her dad once told her that she cried as a child...back when he remembered who she was more often than he didn’t. But they’d never celebrated the holiday much. His family was Egyptian and he’d never really taken to the fireworks and the music. It wasn’t until she was out on her own that she started to participate a little more.

This year, most of the reason she came was because T’Challa asked her...and she liked the fireworks. There was something about the way you could feel the explosions even far below. “They could be fighting or calling for help, though. It would be a sure signal of where they were if they were calling for it. But no one would really believe that’s what they were trying to say anyway.” She moved to lean against him, her arm coming to wrap around his. “I definitely don’t know the year of when the original Independence Day celebrations was, though. You must have paid attention to dates better than I did.”

T’Challa chuckled softly, leaning back into her a little, nuzzling her hair as he spoke. “I’m fairly certain this is purely celebration. And yes, I was very much interested in American history growing up. All history, really, but the Revolutionary War and Civil War always captured my attention.” It occurred to T’Challa he had never asked Bast something. “Did you grow up here in the States or did you spend some time in Egypt?”

Bast smiled a little. “You’re probably right. Still…” But she didn’t really have anything to say after that, so she listened to what he was speaking about instead. The wars had never really caught her attention as much as how people interacted. She’d always been more interested in the social aspects than the parts where they fought. It seemed there was always some war, though. “I grew up in the States, but I did spend the occasional summer in Egypt with Dad’s family. But...it’s been awhile since we’ve been back. Dad doesn’t do well with flights and...well...he doesn’t actually remember much of anything, so it’s easier to just keep him where he is. Even if he doesn’t recognize anything here either.” She frowned slightly at that. “But we didn’t do a lot of fourth of July stuff when I was younger either.”

T'Challa hadn't been like the other students who revelled in the gory details of the wars. He'd lived it in the Congo and one would have thought he'd shy away from it altogether. But he too had more interest in the 'why’ and 'how’ of the conflicts and how they came to be and how they had been resolved. But that was a deep conversation for when they weren't simply trying to enjoy fireworks.

T'Challa turned to look at Bast fully, frowning a little himself. They had never really talked about their respective families, and the revelation that Bast's father was suffering from what he could only presume to be Alzheimer's took him by surprise. “Your father….Alzheimers?” He asked to be certain. He couldn't imagine how difficult that could be for her.

She nodded at the question. “Early onset.” She shrugged. “It mirrors the dreams a little, actually.” She was afraid of that becoming her life as well, but with believers, she would be fine. She had to be fine. “It’s been interesting, but he is somewhere where they can take care of him.” She hadn’t really wanted to be that child, but she was only one person and she couldn’t take care of him forever. She had to work.

“Sorry for bringing down the mood.”

T'Challa moved on the blanket they had set out on the grass, shifting to sit more behind Bast so he could pull her to him in his arms. “No apologies, goddess. You are a dutiful and loving daughter. You can only do so much when faced with such a difficult situation.” He hugged her to him, planting a kiss behind her ear. He wanted to ask about how the dreams mirrored such a heartbreaking fate, but chose not to as that indeed would kill the mood. Instead, he turned his focus back on to the fireworks as they were nearing their finale. Someone had the local radio station tuned to their iPhone so that they could all hear the classic patriotic anthems as they played in sync with the show.

She bit back the remark that popped up about her being the daughter that abandoned her post. The post her father had intended her to keep. Even if she did realize that she wouldn’t have existed any longer if she’d stayed. Not even enough of herself to be senile. She would just be gone. But it was her post and it was her job. She just let herself be pulled toward T’Challa and made herself comfortable there. It was better than thinking about things that couldn’t be changed. She watched the fireworks, only vaguely aware of the music playing. “You’re very good at this boyfriend thing, I must say. I’m glad I found you. I’d likely be sadly alone otherwise.”

T'Challa smiled broadly even if she couldn't see it at the moment. It was good to hear that, especially considering in the dreams he had made choices that had cost him the love of his life there. It was probably why here he was determined to be a better man when it came to this. “Thank you.” He gave her neck a soft kiss. “And I would say the same to you. I cannot imagine a day now where I am not grateful for your presence in my life.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. The cacophony of the fireworks was building as the overture for “1815” reached its crescendo. The sky lit up brilliantly, almost blinding as the colorful fireworks filled the sky, accented by the hard staccato BANG! of the flash bang variety.

Bast felt content in that moment, leaning against T’Challa while the sky lit up with color and sound. She couldn’t remember if she’d felt this way before with people outside of her family. Perhaps sunbathing with Gamora. She’d have to drag her out with her again sometime soon. She was glad to finally have someone she could gossip with about pretty much anything. “Well, I am a goddess and thus, absolutely brilliant, so I can see how you would feel that way,” she said once the fireworks had died down a little. “And it’s a good thing, too, because you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

T’Challa chuckled. “Then I am a lucky man.” The fireworks died down as the finale came to a close. There was mild applause from the small gathering there, then people rising and gathering up their things to go in the dim lighting. He stood, offering a hand to help Bast up. “That was one of the best fireworks shows I’ve seen in a long time.”

“You are,” she agreed, grinning widely. Bast took T’Challa’s hand and pulled herself up rather easily. “I really did enjoy it. But most of that was really because you were there with me.” She lifted up on her toes to press a kiss against his lips. “So what did you want to do now? I guess we could go back to someone’s place and celebrate our country’s independence by taking off our clothes and having sex pretty much all over the respective house. Or I guess we could do something else if you had something in mind.”

T'Challa happily returned the kiss, then busied himself with gathering the blanket and their things (a partially consumed bottle of wine, wine glasses, and the bag their food had been in). As he did he listened as Bast talked - suddenly straightening up and glancing about wide eyed at the rather vivid description. “Goddess!” He said, more in a hushed tone near a whisper. “I don't think everyone needs to hear that.” But he was practically grinning because like he would turn down an offer of sex with his gorgeous girlfriend. “We could also stop by the hangar on our way home - whomever’s it might end up being - so I can finally show you what kept me late after work so many nights.” He was referring, of course, to his Wakandan ship from the dreams.

He still reacted so surprised every time that she commented on sex. This was, admittedly, a public place, but she also wasn’t extremely concerned with whether or not the people around them were shocked by the idea of two people having sex. “I’m only helping people with their sexual fantasy needs,” she whispered back, the amusement evident. But when he mentioned taking her to the hangar to show her what he’d been working on, she smiled. “So now I will meet my enemy face to face.” Did she make it sound more dramatic than it was? Yes. But she was curious what about a ship could be so interesting that it made him stay late at work. “Which is to say that I’m ready to go.”

Prior to meeting Bast, T'Challa's sex life had practically been non-existent. Between being nearly a social hermit, his work as a teacher (prior to joining Stark's company), and quietly pining for Ororo, his ex-girlfriend here, and love of his life in his Dreams, he had no use for it or the time. Now with Bast it was as if he were making up for lost time. That didn't mean however, that he couldn't still be proper about it in conversation, which was why his girlfriend's blunt manner when it came to talking about it always caught him off guard.

He was, however, grateful she simply found his bafflement amusing. He smirked back at her and tucked the folded blanket under his arm, then picking up the bag. “Your enemy,” He was deeply amused by her drama on this, “awaits, then.” Making their way to his car he placed the blanket and bag in the back seat before getting into the driver's seat and starting the car. “You know we did not finish that bottle of Rose. We could finish it there, if you wish?”

T’Challa was not the first person Bast had been with, but he was the first in a while and she was pretty sure that she couldn’t be blamed for being particularly interested in getting him out of his clothes. She had seen and felt that ass and...well...all of the rest of him, too. It was difficult to keep her thoughts PG. She didn’t mind that he was more reserved, because that was part of what she liked about him.

She grinned as they made their way back to the car. “I have waited many days to meet with it face-to-face.” She got into the passenger seat, stretching once she was settled. “Well, I am never against drinking more wine. Are we bringing the glasses or are we going to be one of those classy couples that drinks out of the bottle?”

T'Challa chuckled. “I think we shall stick with the glasses.” The drive was about twenty minutes, which felt longer with the bouts of random spots of congestion from people trying to head home from the fireworks display. But in due time they pulled into the entry way to Stark and T'Challa greeted the night security guard with a nod and a flash of his badge. When the man gave Bast a curious look which shifted to T'Challa the reply was, “She has to use the bathroom. We were at the fireworks show. Too much wine.” Okay, he wasn't fond of lying but technically he wasn't supposed to bring her here without prior clearance. The man gave T'Challa a look, a shadow of a smirk, and let them pass. As they pulled into his parking spot T'Challa replied, “apologies, goddess. I had to say something as technically you're not allowed here without permission.” With a twist of the key he turned the car off and looked over at her. “Shall we?”

Bast waited until they got past the guard before saying. “That’s the power of illusions, kitten. I could have made him see anything I wanted.” But she wasn’t entirely insulted by what he’d said and she did nod and try to look desperate for a bathroom. It was the least she could do...and really, it wasn’t the worst thing anyone had said about her that wasn’t strictly true.

When they pulled into the spot and the car was turned off, she got out before answering in the affirmative. She didn’t know where to go, so she couldn’t exactly go wandering off, but she was intent on seeing the airship that had taken up so much of T’Challa’s time now that it was something she’d been offered. “Lead the way.”

“Ah yes, I forgot about that. Next time.” He said, his eyes smiling in jest.

When Bast got out of the car without answering T'challa wasn't bothered in the least. It was just like a cat, and it's goddess, to only deign to answer when they felt like it, and he knew when Bast was on a mission, no time was to be wasted.

Exiting the car he held out an arm as Bast spoke. Looping his arm into hers he led indeed. Swiping into the building with his pass, T'Challa wound through the hallways until he reached what looked like an obscure, out of the way elevator. Pushing the button he waited, listening to the hydraulics as the car slowly made its way to them. “I have a feeling Tony would be cross with me if he knew I was bringing a guest.” And while he knew the security cameras didn't point to this spot, he knew they would once they got up there.

Bast took his arm, walking alongside him as they walked through the building. “I'll simply tell him I'm a very demanding person and he should be so delighted to have an actual goddess walking around his building.” She also still wasn't too bothered by him at the moment. “I'm sure it won't be the worst thing that's ever happened. You can always claim I'd have come anyway and you thought it best you were there.”

T'Challa smiled and kissed her lips. “You always know what to say, don't you?” The elevator doors pinged open and they stepped in. Contrary to the exterior, the interior was extremely modern. T'Challa let go of Bast's arm and fiddled with his Wakandan bead bracelet, little ghostly holograms popping up and his fingers dancing through them as he silently worked. When he lowered his wrist one would think nothing had happened. “I just erased the last few seconds of footage of us entering. The cameras are now on a loop of the last few minutes so this car now appears empty.” Better safe than sorry. In reality he was sure Tony wouldn't really be all that upset, probably more miffed he didn't get a chance to meet Bast. Why was he putting that off anyway? T'Challa realized he shouldn't be and would have to rectify that.

The elevator ride up was at a decent pace, but still took it's time.

“I do what I can,” she replied, giving him a quick smile. As he worked, Bast watched quietly, wondering what exactly it was he was doing. Once he told her, her smile turned into a grin. “Well, aren't you clever? I'd never have thought to do that.” Which was true. She knew how to make illusions and make people see things that weren't there, but technology (outside of the norm) wasn't her strong point.

Well. If the cameras weren't picking anything up anyway, Bast decided she was going to use some of the time in the elevator to kiss T’Challa and make the time pass maybe a little faster than it was at the moment.

He grinned back at her, mirroring her earlier reply. “I do what I can, goddess.” He thanked Bast - well the other one, from the dreams - that he'd been given this technology. It was beyond useful.

The temptation was there to do more than kiss, though at the moment T'Challa was perfectly fine passing the time doing so. It was an awkwardly long journey to the hangar without something to talk about or in this case...do. He pulled Bast against him, reading her intent, and leaned down and kissed her.

Bast was far from against getting up to more than kissing, but she didn't know if it was a good idea...even if it sounded like one. When he pulled her close, she gave him a quick appreciative look and counted to five once they were kissing before her hands found their way to his ass.

See? She could have restraint. Sort of.

Halfway through a perfectly acceptable makeout session, Bast pulled back. “I'm pretty sure we could have had elevator sex and still had time to make it look like we hadn't by the time this thing reached its destination.”

T'Challa smiled against Bast's lips once he felt the familiar sensation of her hands on his ass. He was surprised she had waited that long.

When Bast pulled back as things started to heat up between them, it took T'Challa a moment to focus on what she was saying, his mind clouded with desire. He then smirked, and with his arms already around her simply waved one hand over the other’s wrist where his bracelet was. The elevator slowly slid to a stop. “How are you in motionless elevators?” He smirked.

He was a man after her own heart. Which was to say he'd been poorly influenced by her. She was a little proud of herself and him in a way as well. A smirk spread across her lips and she looked up at him. “About as good as I am in moving ones, but then I've never really tested it out before.” For as much talk as she had about sex in various places, she'd really never gone through with most of it.

“I suppose I'll have to demonstrate my abilities. It's only fair.” She maintained eye contact as her hands carefully removed themselves from his shapely posterior and toward his belt buckle. “Any requests?” A pause. “Which is to say…” She paused as she undid his pants and slid a hand inside all without moving all that far away from him. “I can use my hand, mouth, or you can fuck me against the elevator wall.” Another quick pause. “Or there's always the floor and me on top. Celebrating independence comes with its perks.” She studied him closely for a moment. “Unless you want to wait and christen your ship. Then again, you could have it both ways if you think you can handle it.”

And there she was, unleashed. The cat goddess in all her glory, and he, like prey, at her mercy. Gloriously so. Her hand inside his pants with her fingers feeling his quickly hardening cock elicited a deep throaty sound from him and he nearly shut his eyes in delight. And the suggestions! He would take all of them if he could - and he had quite the stamina thanks to the dreams but he was still a man with limits. “Goddess…” He groaned loudly, grinding his hips into her hold once. “I would say all of the above if it were possible.” He leaned down, nibbling her lower lip. “But I will submit to your desires.” He kissed her lips hungrily then said with a lustful, husky tone into her ear, “And I most certainly can handle both here and taking you in my ship.”

Bast gave him one quick, amused look. Of course he would defer to her and what she wanted. But she could be in control if he wanted that. She pulled her hand out of his pants, pressing it against his chest and using it to push him up against the wall of the elevator. She’d make this about him. Slowly she lowered herself down onto her knees, keeping eye contact with him. She was a goddess, but she wasn’t above this. Her hands moved to push his pants and underwear over his hips, just enough to make it easier. Smirking, her hands returned to his hips, this time gripping them tightly and pressing them toward the wall. “Not too tight, is it?” She squeezed lightly so he knew she meant her grip. Then again, it was necessary to control any involuntary movements. As long as he was comfortable, things would move forward...and she had every intention of making it both an enjoyable and memorable experience.

T'Challa's eyes widened just a little as the reality sank in that Bast was about to go down on him. This was a sexual act he had never experienced and he wondered briefly if Bast had. Her deft movements, including pinning him hard to the wall, seemed to give him the answer.

He never broke eye contact with her, those green cat goddess eyes holding him as securely as her hands against his body. He reached forward slowly, reverently almost, fingers pushing through Bast's silky dark hair as they held that lovers gaze. “It's perfectly fine.” He hoped he didn't get too enthusiastic and ruin her hold, he was still much stronger than her.

T'Challa held his breath a heartbeat in realization. Bast, an iteration of his patron goddess was about to perform oral sex on him! Never in his wildest imaginings had this seemed a reality to him. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calming himself, becoming hyper aware of his erection now that it was uncovered and before her. He smiled, pushing down what nerves dared try to rise to the surface.

It didn’t take a mind reader to tell that T’Challa was mildly awkward about the situation, so she gave him a reassuring look. She’d chosen and she wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t something she was willing to give. They’d had sex before (plenty of times, really) and they would have sex again. Once she’d given him a moment to get used to the idea, she slowly took him into her mouth. After that, it was all about developing a rhythm. His hips moving was practically inevitable, but she could work around it, so it wasn’t really much of a problem for her.

The moment he felt Bast's mouth touch his length all rational thought left. The sensation was so erotically new for him the tingle of pleasure fired off in every fibre of his being. As she worked him, building that rhythm, T'Challa tilted his head back against the elevator wall, eyes rolling closed as he gasped. His hands deep in her hair, nearly gripping her head, a deep, sensual sound came out of his mouth, along with a husky, “Goddess!” which was both exclamation and invoking her title in pleasure. T'Challa fought the natural urge to thrust but knew it was a losing battle the longer this went on. He strained against her grip and found it to be more iron clad than expected. He smiled, white teeth flashing against dark skin. The Panther pinned by the cat goddess. It couldn't be hotter.

Bast felt the thrill of victory. Perhaps it was an unusual form of victory, but it was hers all the same. She was enjoying his reactions, the feeling of his fingers in her hair. It was a different sort of intoxicating knowing she was the reason for all of it. She could feel the way he strained against her hands and she tightened her grip just that little bit more. It would hurt, but she hoped in a good way. Everything she did was in an effort to make him feel good (all right, maybe also to drive him a little crazy), and she seemed to be succeeding in both goals.

Oh she was succeeding all right. T’Challa’s mind was full of nothing but immeasurable pleasure and her unuttered name on his lips. The pressure of her pinning him a little harder to the wall as she tasted him only heightened everything, and his urge to thrust grew only stronger. He tried moving his hips again but to no avail. His inability to move was almost agony...yet strangely intensifying the pleasure of the act, and his fingers gripped her scalp in response. He was getting close, his muscles tensing as he felt the build.

“Bast…” he gasped. “I’m almost there.” He said the last part in a moan. T’Challa looked down at her, seeing her kneeling before him, moving back and forth on his cock and it was all he needed to push him over the edge. He called out her name loudly, head tilting back as his voice dissolved into a growl - every muscle in his body tensing for a moment before relaxing in a sweet, intense release. His body shuddered as he came, and the man who was a stately and composed king in the dreams, was undone and breathless before his girlfriend and his goddess.

Bast sat back once he'd finished, wiping at the corners of swollen lips with her thumbs. She left her hands on his hips for a moment in case he wasn't keen on the idea of sliding to the floor of the elevator or just in order to keep him steady. Not that she thought he strictly needed it, but she was thoughtful enough to consider it. She smirked up at him. “I’d ask if you enjoyed yourself, but I think I know the answer.” She carefully rose up off the floor of the elevator, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. She wasn't sure if he was the sort of man that kissed after a blowjob or not. “I'll give you a moment or two to collect yourself. I still have an arch nemesis to see.”

If he were a lesser man, T'Challa would have been weak in the knees after that climax. Thankfully the heart shaped herb he'd eaten in the dreams had given him powers of endurance and significant strength, which had transferred over. So he was good. Very good at the moment. He watched with a lazy smile on his lips as Bast rose and he accepted the kiss on the cheek, grateful it had not been on the lips. He was not adventurous enough to taste himself on her lips.

He pulled up his pants while Bast waited. Resuming the elevator with a wave of a hand as before, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and murmured in her ear, “Once you have faced your nemesis I will be more than happy to see to your needs,” and he nibbled playfully on her earlobe as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.

Bast smirked and leaned back against him. “My nemesis is very high priority, but I’m easily distracted.” And he was off to a good start, but the elevator doors opened. She leaned back and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “It seems like my nemesis has other ideas.” So she took one of his hands in hers and walked forward and out of the elevator before realizing she didn’t really know where she was going. “You should probably lead the way on this one, however.”

T’Challa chuckled softly, fiddling with the bracelet one more time for the sake of the hallway cameras, and then led the way, straight down the hallway they were facing. This was an older part of the building that no one really frequented except himself and Tony, but security was still a thing that helped. Especially if you were rebuilding a one of a kind Wakandan ship.

The doors to the lab were modern compared to the older building surrounding it, and T’Challa pressed his keycard to it. The door unlocked with a loud click and a hiss and he pushed it in, stepping inside with Bast in tow.

Inside the room yawned significantly into a large hangar, decked out in some of Tony’s most advanced technological computer arrays. In the center of it all sat T’Challa’s ship, lit from above quite dramatically as it sat on its round launchpad.

“Good evening, T’Challa.” came the British accented male voice of Tony’s A.I., recognizing his presence from the keycard scan.

“Good evening, Jarvis.” he replied in kind. Looking to Bast he said, “Tony’s A.I. system.”

T’Challa closed the door behind them and made sure it locked. Whatever transpired next he didn’t want them to be disturbed. “There she is,” T’Challa said proudly, “Your nemesis.” The sleek ship was all curves, the Wakandan Vibranium metal hull had a brushed metal finish to it, with clean edges and perfect symmetry with the glass. It was so hyper modern it put the most advanced American jet to shame.

Bast studied the hallway as they walked, curious about the place where T’Challa worked. It was different from what she’d expected. Especially a modern door in the middle of an old building, but who was she to question these things? It apparently worked for them.

Her gaze settled for a moment on the ship in the middle of the hangar before she was distracted by the voice talking to them. She hadn’t experienced that sort of thing before, but it was apparently commonplace around here. “Ah,” she said in recognition. “Does Tony’s A.I. system keep track of who is here with you?” She kept her voice low, uncertain if it would pick up on it.

Carefully, she made her way over to the ship, studying it closely. At first, she just looked at it, but then she reached out to touch it, curious about how it felt. “I already hate her a little.” It was a bit of light teasing.

“I do indeed, miss.” The computer chimed in, and T'Challa looked a bit embarrassed. Jarvis could be a bit too aware for his tastes sometimes.

“Jarvis, this is Bast, my guest.” He said to the air.

“Pleased to meet you, Bast.” Jarvis replied politely. “Will Mister Stark be joining you two?”

He certainly hoped not. “No, Jarvis. I'm merely showing her around.”

“Does she have clearance?” The A.I. intoned. “This is a top secret level project.” T'Challa frowned, getting annoyed with the thing.

“Jarvis, please go to sleep.”

“I do not understand. I never-” T'Challa flashed a hand over his bracelet and the air went silent as Jarvis was cut off. “This is why we do not have A.I. in Wakanda.” He growled to himself.

Joining Bast's side he watched her reaction to his ship. All the hard labor and love that went into rebuilding her had paid off, it looked magnificent to him. And then she commented on hating her.

“Come now,” he said, flashing her a charming smile, “I think we all can get along. Yes she is a magnificent ship but her beauty does not compare to yours. Though,” and he grinned then, “your jealousy is quite... a turn on.”

Bast listened to the back and forth between Jarvis and T’Challa. The only thing that she responded to was the part where he said it was nice to meet her. “Ah. Nice to meet you, too.” Only it was a little creepy to meet him. But that was probably because she wasn’t used to A.I. in her general existence. She was sure that would be fun to explain if Jarvis mentioned anything to Tony. At least she wasn’t the one getting questioned. But she also wasn’t going to do anything that would warrant any trouble. At least not regarding security.

“If her beauty compared to mine, I would be a little insulted and a little concerned about your feelings for your ship.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Just don’t use my jealousy against me too often or I might not be so nice to you.”

T’Challa chuckled and tugged Bast into his arms. “Apologies, my goddess.” he said sincerely. “You know how men can be with their cars or boats. Mine just happens to be a futuristic ship from the Dreams. It is but a harmless hobby.” And he kissed her forehead. “You are the most beautiful one in my life.” Taking her hand in his, he placed it onto the ship again, running their hands slowly over it so she could feel the fine texture of the Vibranium hull. “This material is Vibranium, the same as what is woven into my suit. This whole thing came in pieces. Hull, circuitry, engines. I still cannot believe the dreams give me the ability to understand it all.” he said with wonder. “I was but a humble professor of history prior to them.”

Bast went easily, her body pressing against him for a brief moment. “Harmless, indeed.” She smiled at him, fingers curling in his shirt. “Good. Just know that I have a very good way of getting you to do what I want.” Her smile turned into a smirk. Really, all it had taken was a little suggestion and some kissing and he’d been hers. So she was pretty sure that she could distract him from the ship if necessary.

When he placed her hand on the hull again, she glanced at him for a moment, watching his expression. “I bet all the students had crushes on you. Sexy teacher fantasies all over.” But she focused on the ship for a moment. “I’m glad the ship makes you happy. I suppose I can give you that at least.”

T'Challa chuckled. “I don't think so. I'm not quite the Indiana Jones.” He said with modesty. Stealthily he maneuvered behind Bast so she was in his arms as she had been in the elevator. Slowly he placed soft kisses along the line of her neck, his hand still on hers, running it along the surface of the ship. “Thank you goddess.” And he was grateful. Some women were never fond of their men's extracurricular activities.

T'Challa continued to nuzzle Bast's skin, while his free hand explored the curves of her body: fingers grazed along her hips, across her stomach, tracing a line up to her breasts which he carefully cupped one with a hand, while he pressed his body gently against hers from behind. He was ready for her again. Before he forgot, however, he glanced at the bracelet on his hand currently occupied with her breast and made sure the cameras were still looping empty hangar footage. It was. T'Challa smiled. “If you wish to christen my ship, we will have no worries of interruptions.” He murmured into her ear.

“I don’t know. I think I’d have certainly noticed you.” He was certainly very noticeable now. She had a feeling that this was somehow going to end with her having a very unusual affection for a ship that she’d dubbed her arch nemesis. Not that it was exactly a problem.

Certainly less and less of a problem as he touched her. How any student could have possibly resisted him was beyond her. She really questioned it. But it was possible that she was biased. “You can’t just get a girl all hot and bothered and then pretend like there’s any other option outside of having sex in your ship.” She didn’t move right away, trying to delay the eventual lack of contact. “You should probably lead the way in. Can’t christen your ship if we’re not even in it, can we?” Despite the fact that she probably would have pretended it worked just the same if it came down to it.

In the ship. On the ship. Against the ship. Options were forming in T'Challa's mind as Bast spoke. He chuckled softly. “The cockpit is a bit...snug. It is meant for only one person. We may have to improvise.” He grinned, teasing as he nibbled at her neck. T'Challa then pulled back and swept Bast up into his arms, before he took a few paces back. “Don't worry, I won't drop you.” He said, before getting a running start, heading towards the vessel. He leapt up, lithe as a jungle cat, and landed on the broad wing of the plane with barely any disturbance to it despite their combined weight. It was a cat thing.

Setting his girlfriend back down onto her feet he held her hand as he wasn't sure how her shoes would do on the surface. He dabbled in the air with his free hand over the beaded bracelet and the ship hummed to life so subtly it was almost unnoticeable. The cockpit canopy swung upwards with a hiss. He looked over at Bast and smirked. “Perhaps now would be a good time for us to relieve the other of some articles of clothing. Too difficult in there.” And he nodded towards the snug cockpit. “Might accidentally hit a switch and blow up the hangar.” He teased cheekily.

“I guess that I’ll be sitting on your lap, then.” She’d expected that, but there would have to be some adjustments to the way it might have gone in another cockpit. Not that she’d been in a lot, but they always seemed somewhat roomy. Then again, maybe not. The thing about the situation was that Bast didn’t doubt him. He was a cat and cats always landed on their feet. It was one of the few things you could trust about a cat. Unless something was wrong.

It was lucky that her balance was good or she might not have been able to stand up on the wing. She fixed that, however, by promptly kicking her shoes off and standing with bare feet on the wing. She watched as the canopy swung open, ears attuned to the sound of the ship. It didn’t try to fly off suddenly, so she figured she was okay. There was a smirk. “Tony would not be very forgiving if we did that.” They’d survive, but the explanation would be something. She also didn't really feel like exploding things accidentally.

She studied T’Challa briefly. “So, then. What clothes will you relieve me of?” Today, she was wearing a short skirt and a tank top. It had been a very simple outfit, but she didn't feel the need to wear anything too flashy. Her hands came to rest on T’Challa’s waist, slowly sliding along the waistline until she got to the front of his pants, fingers toying idly with the fabric.

T'Challa chuckled. “No I don't think he would be.” His ship wasn't the only thing in this hangar, and it would be a stupid way to blow up things. A supervillain getting in here was one thing, trying to have sex with your girlfriend in your ship an entirely different scenario. He smirked a little; the Tony from the dreams would probably have tried it anyway, despite the risks.

He looked down at Bast and returned the expression in kind. His eyes were already doing the undressing. He had to admit that the short skirt had been immensely distracting for him the moment she'd shown up in it, and had been grateful for the diversion of the fireworks lest he sit there turned on for hours.

Now of course, he could do something about it, and he leaned back a little to take in the sight of her, as if deciding. Long legs disappeared up into the short skirt, and her tank top accentuated breasts he knew well were a delight to lose himself in. Decisions, decisions.

His hands went to her thighs, sliding slowly up smooth skin until they vanished beneath the skirt. He grazed his thumbs back and forth along the fabric of her panties, against her sensitive areas of her sex, teasing, while he dipped his head to her neck and started kissing her there again. “Perhaps I will start here.” He murmured into her skin.

The feeling of T’Challa’s hands on her thighs made her breath slow. It was the feeling of his thumbs that caused a sharp intake of breath. Her body stilled and her hands faltered, but it was only briefly before she started to undo his pants again. “That’s...a good start,” she managed after a moment. “Definitely good.”

Her fingers moved to unbutton his pants. “I’m fairly certain we only need to remove the clothes on the lower half of our bodies. I just have to be able to sit on your lap.” She let his pants drop, hands sliding into his underwear so she could grab his ass. “Unless you were hoping to take it slow.” Which would be maddening, but she wasn’t against it.

“Excellent.” He smiled against her neck as he felt Bast's movements hesitate as he teased her. It was fun for him to mess with her poise and certainty of movement every now and then. She wasn't easy to catch by surprise.

He had intended for them to be entirely in the nude for this, but Bast did have a point. Still, he revelled in enjoying every inch of her when they made love and this time his yearning was no different. His hands mimicked hers as he slid them beneath her underwear to rest on her ass before pushing the fabric down until it fell to her feet. “That depends on how anxious my goddess is,” he purred in her ear. For a moment T'Challa considered leaving the skirt on - they could technically get down to business without it being in the way. But on second thought it could snag on a switch on the console. He undid it and let it drop to join her panties. Pushing his hands under her top he guided that off of her as well, before he buried his face inpatiently into her cleavage with a groan and a needy “Goddess…”, the smell of her perfume and taste of her skin intoxicating.

Bast carefully stepped out of her clothes. “Well, we do run the risk of being caught somehow the longer we are out here.” Not that she really cared whether or not T’Challa’s co-workers walked in. She could easily make them see her in clothes. Then she’d get T’Challa his clothes and get herself dressed eventually. All that aside, Bast really thought that T’Challa was overdressed, so while he was distracted by her breasts, she pulled his underwear off. “If I’m going to be naked for this, so are you. Shirt off. Then get into the cockpit.”

“No one is getting in, only Tony and I know of this hangar. And besides, the door is locked.” He replied in between kisses to her skin. “Jarvis is silent and the cameras are blind. We are safe to do as we please.” There was a sort of juvenile pleasure in that statement. T'Challa had never been one to do something as risque as this. It was exciting.

T'Challa chuckled at her demands but acquiesced, kicking off his shoes, socks and his fallen clothes about his feet. “Of course, goddess.” He grinned at her as he pulled off his shirt, his last remaining bit of clothing. Taking a moment to observe her, he said, “This lighting suits you.” It accentuated all her curves, including the high cheek bones in her exotic face. Her cat eyes gleamed at him and momentarily he was arrested by their otherworldy beauty. He reached out, fingers trailing along her face down her collar bone, to the soft curve of her breasts, down to her stomach before he reached for her hand.

He led her without a word to the cockpit and climbed in, reaching up to offer a hand to her to guide her in. This was going to be interesting for sure!

T’Challa’s body was certainly something to be admired and Bast was nothing if not the sort of person to admire the view. Each and every time. Even if it was only a short moment. Because really, she had ideas on her mind the moment she watched him take off his shirt. If it hadn’t been for the oddly reverent look on his face and the words, she probably would have shoved him into the cockpit herself. She didn’t need Jarvis waking up again and seeing something she didn’t technically need him to see.

Taking his hand, she climbed into the cockpit after him. It would be a bit tight, but she had a feeling they could make do.

Once Bast was in the cockpit with him, T’Challa’s hands slid up along her thighs to her hips, eyes once again drinking in her beauty. He smiled up at her. “You are a vision, Bast.” He leaned up and kissed her lips hungrily while one hand went down to guide himself into her. His deep voice moaned against her lips as he sank deeper, his hands sliding down to her hips, encouraging her to come closer as she straddled him. “I love you.” he whispered between them, arms then moving to wrap around her, desperate for contact with every inch of his lover. He slipped a hand into her hair, fingers disappearing into the soft waves that fell around them. He had the feeling this would end up being his favorite place where they would make love.