Alternate Universe
T'Challa considers himself a calm and controlled man. Except when he's dealing with you.
You have a smart mouth—a result of having been born in Trinidad & Tobago, lived there till 10, and then raised in NYC—that's backed up with an intelligence matched by Shuri and Erik. You're also his roommate.
"T'Challa."
T'Challa looks up at hearing your voice. You look upset.
"Did you take the last black tea?"
"Which one?"
"The Spice tea."
"I think I did."
You threw the box in his lap—it's empty.
"You do this all the time! Every fucking time!"
Your accent is coming out and while T'Challa finds it attractive he's annoyed. He had a tough day and you aren't helping. He stands.
"Cherie—"
"NO! You do this every time and you never replace it! Or say something before I come home! You know I like this tea!"
You huff.
"Fucking ass—"
You gasp as he grabs your throat and pins you to the wall. He squeezes gently—he is a Doctor after all and knows how to choke without actually choking—and he sees a look of pleasure flash through your eyes.
"I'm tired of your mouth Cherie."
You moan.
"T'Challa..."
"I've had a long day and I'm tired. If I hear anything else from you: I will punish you."
He let's go and walks away.
You blink before licking your lips and smirking.
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T'Challa blinks as the box of chocolate (well empty box) dropped in his lap.
"Fuck you. You owe me a box."
T'Challa growls and grabs you, dragging you to his room. You pretend to struggle before he pushes you down. You gasps as he grabs your throat, pushing your legs apart, and kisses you.
"Tired of your mouth Cherie."
"Are you?"
"Yes and I want to know what else it can do."
You smirk and unbutton his pants. He lets your throat go as you get on your knees. T'Challa quickly rids himself of the pants and pull his shirt off. You moan as he grabs the back of your head.
"Open."
You obey, liking this dominant T'Challa. His heavy length pushes into your mouth. You and T'Challa moan. You hollow your mouth and suck as T'Challa thrusts into your warm mouth.
T'Challa pulls you off and motions you up. You stand.
"Strip."
You obey and T'Challa licks his lips. He knew you had a tattoo sleeve (you are a tattoo artist after all) but you have more that are white and stand out against your naturally sun kissed skin.
"How many tattoos do you have?"
"How about you find out?"
T'Challa smirks as he picks you up and places you on the bed. He kisses down your stomach as he pushes your legs open. He licks his lips before putting your legs on his shoulder and begins to eat you out. He licks, dips his tongue inside you, and sucks gently on your clit. You hold his head and moan.
