The Captain starts at her shoulders. He rubs his hands together, coating his palms and fingers with the body butter before spreading it along her broad shoulders. He pushes his hands along the top of her back before sliding them down to her shoulder blades. The General lets her head loll back some; her eyes close as her lips part slightly. W’Kabi could never. He presses his thumbs into her flesh and applies a steady pressure as he moves down the length of her spine, rubbing slow circles into her already radiant skin. He reaches her lower back and lets his fingers spread along her sides, keeping a hold of her as he presses deeper into her tight muscles. A slow smile spreads on her lips. She lets out a soft moan. Her hand snakes up into his long, dirty blonde tresses and she takes a firm grip, biting her bottom lip as he massages her.
He leans into her, bringing his lips down to meet her neck. The Captain isn’t a rough lover. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He doesn’t paw at her, he doesn’t devour her; he just simply kisses her. Each one is warm and slow. Each one is perfect. She turns slowly in his hands so that her big, brown eyes can scour his serious blue ones. She lays each one of her arms on his shoulders as her eyes dip down to his pretty, plump, pink lips. She’d never seen an American with such lips before. She lets out a breath as her eyes move around his boyish face. He looks tired. Both physically and emotionally. She palms the side of his face and he nuzzles into her touch, kissing her small palm quickly.
“Steve.”
Her voice is soft; much softer than what he’s used to hearing from her. They don’t really talk much when they’re together. They really don’t have to. He gets her, and she gets him, without having to explain it or put it into words. She just gets it. He, just gets it. He tightens his grip around her hips and pulls her a little closer to his body, “Okoye.”
His voice is always soft, no matter how tough he tries to sound. His gentle confidence is what makes him intimidating. His morals, his decency, is what makes him a tough guy. The fact that he just wants to do the right thing is what makes him a hero. But there’s something brewing. She can tell by looking at him now. She could feel it earlier when they were with T’Challa and Bucky, but neither would let her in on the secret. Not yet anyway. She doesn’t want to ruin the evening this early but the warrior in her can’t let it go.
“What’s going on?”
He drags his eyes from her thick lips to her eyes, “Nothing.”
His voice is so soft.
He’s lying, and she knows it. He knows she knows it. He doesn’t want to worry about that now- that’s not why he came here tonight. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be Captain America. He doesn’t want the looming threat of Thanos and the impending death of millions upon millions of people on his conscious. He just wants to sink into her like he has time and time before, loosing himself in her femininity, her touch, her void. He just wants to be Steve. He just wants her to be Okoye.
So, he doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t mention Thanos, he doesn’t mention that within days they’ll be fighting for humanity on a massive scale. He just grabs her hands and walks her to the side of her big, comfortable bed. They stop once they reach the side and he pulls both of her hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. His lifts his eyes slowly, letting them roam along her face, from her eyes, to her lips, to her nose, down to her fingers intertwined with his. He likes looking at her. She’s so different from what he’s used to. He remembers running his fingers through blonde hair, gazing into blue eyes, pushing his mouth against thin lips, brushing his hands along fair, light skin. He didn’t know electricity existed between a man and a woman until he touched her radiant, dark skin. Until he kissed her full, plump lips. Until he lost himself in her deep, stormy, focused, brown eyes. He likes looking at her.
“Lay down?”
It’s more of a question than it is a statement. It’s soft. Airy. He’s still unsure of himself in this world. He’s a prisoner almost, doing his seventy-year sentence, suddenly thrust into a world that’s forgotten him; left him behind. She’s not hard on him like she is with everyone else. He needs some understanding, he needs some support while he tries to reconcile his existence with this world. She lays down. She takes a deep breath and expels it slowly as she throws an arm over her head. She eyes him as he moves around the bed to grab her cocoa butter once more. He’s still in his suit. She likes this one. It’s not flashy or bright like the first one. It matches his personality; dark and brooding, yet confident and masculine. Brave. That’s the epitome of him.
The Captain spreads more of the oily body butter in his palm and moves onto the bed, the mattress sinking down with his weight. He straddles her legs, starting at her flat stomach. He rubs in slow circles, tilting his head as he moisturizes her skin. He pushes his hands up along her ribs, his thumbs curving with the natural shape of her breasts. He shifts his eyes toward hers. He’s asking permission. It’s the gentleman in him. Her lips curve slightly, pulling at her cheeks, silently signing his permission slip. He gives his fingers the go ahead and they sweep over her tight, thick nipples. She bites her lip as her body shifts instinctively at the gentle touch of him. This is what she likes. She controls everything. All the time. She controls everyone around her. Every inch of everything is in its place and doesn’t move until she says so. But not now, not with him. She turns over the control to him, whether he knows or even recognizes it. He gets her to jump, to shiver, to moan; unexpectedly. That’s what she likes. The not knowing.
He massages her mountains gently, exploring the peaks of her nipples to the valley of her chest between her proud breasts. He skims his fingers down her stomach once more, his light touch tickling her sexually heightened skin. She jumps lightly and giggles. Picture it, Okoye, fierce warrior, leader, General, giggling. He’s so proud of himself. He pulls away from her quickly to reapply some body butter to his hands once more. He scoots down to the edge of the bed and pulls at her leg, lifting it slowly to place her foot on his chest. He leans in a little, blinking up at her as he places both palms on her thigh. He keeps his eyes on hers as he smooths the cocoa butter into her skin, running his hands along her. After mere minutes, her breath gets deep and ragged. Her mouth falls open as she sits up some, her hips shifting and moving with her desire as it rises. He lifts her foot and kisses it sweetly, taking a moment to admire the bright red polish that adorns her toes. The Captain slips his hand down the length of her leg but stops centimeters from her heat. He throws his eyes toward her again and her body responds instantly. The anticipation bubbles underneath her skin. Her hips roll with the anticipation, a sweet moan scrapes at the back of her throat with the anticipation. She wants him to touch her. She needs him to touch her.
“Steve,” she begs.
He hesitates still. Then, after a beat, or two or three, he loses his nerve and pushes his hand back up her leg. She slams her head and body back against the mattress, a frustrated groan pushing through her teeth. This is his only flaw. This isn’t the time to be polite, Captain. There’s no need to have manners here. She sits up quickly before she realizes what she’s doing. She pulls his face toward hers, crashing her lips to his almost in a frenzy. It takes him by surprise, but then again, she always does. He moans softly as her tongue splits his lips. She grabs his hand and pushes it down to her sex. She moans lightly, pushing the air out of her lungs and into his mouth in a hurry as his fingertips graze along her hot, silky folds. Her fingers stay with his as she moves them along her pearl, guiding him, nudging him to take control.
Her hot breath washes over his face as she pants, her hips rolling and bucking into his hand. She leans back, letting her hands hold her weight against the bed as her head falls in between her shoulders. It’s just him now, working her up into a ball of ecstasy as her fingers grip the white sheets underneath her. Her voice fills the quiet room as her moans grow louder, mixing with the sound of her wetness. That’s right. Captain America has her so wet, he can hear it. She sits up straight again, again pulling him to her as her fingers dig into his hair. She kisses him. She bites down on his bottom lip; hard enough to make him grunt. He likes that about her too; her aggression. On the battle field, in the war room, in the bedroom. It’s all a turn on.
His fingers slow against her. He reaches for her hand, pulling her fingers down toward his, replacing them completely. He slides off the bed slowly as she watches him, his eyes dipping away from her for just a second as he stands up again. He starts stripping away Captain America, article by article, until he’s left in his black boxer briefs. The General takes a deep breath at the sight of him. He advances toward her slowly, placing one knee, and then the other, on the mattress as he moves forward. He crawls over her as she lays back onto the bed. His blonde hair falls in his face as he hovers over her. He captures her lips in a strong, passionate kiss as her hands roam up his forearms to his biceps. They round his broad shoulders before venturing down his rippled back. He feels good. On top of her, inside of her, he just feels so good.
Her legs spread without coaxing, wrapping themselves around his waist, her heels pushing his hips down to hers. She pushes at the thin, black material of his boxer briefs with her toes as his lips move from her mouth to her neck, his teeth scraping at her skin before he bites down softly. He remembers what she likes, what she needs, and he wants to give it to her; just the way she wants it. The General manages to wrestle the last piece of clothing between them away from his hips and pushes them down his thighs and calves, springing him free. His manhood pushes against her thigh and a shiver rushes through her again. Anticipation; she loves it. Her stomach tightens at the mere thought of him sliding into her, spreading her. She moans. His tongue slips along her collar bone before he puckers his lips against her skin in another kiss on her body.
“Steveeee.”
It’s forceful; soft in nature but forceful in tone. She needs him. He pushes a hand underneath her and pulls her up from the mattress. He sits back on his knees, his hands on her hips, guiding her. She rests her hands on his shoulders, gripping at his flesh as he pushes at her opening. Her eyes close as she sinks down on him slowly. So, so, slowly. She lets out a breath. He tightens his grip on her hips, his fingers indenting her flesh as his breath hitches in his throat. He might be old, but this feeling never changes. It’s always the same, but different each time.
Her hands slide along his shoulders and wrap around his neck loosely, the tips of her fingers in his hair. She pulls up, then sinks down on him again, readjusting her hips as she stretches to his size. He fills her perfectly. She feels him everywhere; in her stomach, in her veins, in her mind even. It’s like, he was meant for her. Meant to please her and her alone. What an unlikely pair; funny how these things work out. She rides him slowly, letting her head roll back on her shoulders, her face toward the ceiling as she clings to his shoulders for stability. He pulls her closer, crushing his bare chest to hers as he peppers kisses along the side of her face and neck and shoulders. Her skin is his savior. Her skin is his home now. It’s his warmth, his happiness, his comfort. It keeps him sane. It keeps him fed.
They move slowly against each other, savoring the sweetness of their sex; the only solace either one of them can seem to find nowadays. She appreciates her gentle lover. He appreciates the beast that unfurls in her at times. He switches their position, flatting her back on the bed once more. His weight on top of her sinks her deeper into the mattress. She loves the heaviness of him. He continues to push into her body with his own, running his hand up her leg that curls around him again. He places his hands on either side of her face as he fucks her. It’s like she’s basking in a warm summer day. His eyes on her, his breath warming her skin as his own breath turns ragged and heavy. She watches as his eyes flutter and his dark eyelashes rest against his light skin. His moans and grunts are so delicious, she could eat them. They add and mix with her own lust and passion, turning her on more, wetting her more.
He fucks her with conviction. Spearing her deep and hard, each stroke having its own objective. He’s got her writhing now. Her feet press against the sheets, her toes flexing and then curling in as they slide up and down the mattress. She can feel her blood rushing through her veins as the fire in her stomach rises. Her body tightens and convulses around him, every penetration threatening to send her right over the edge of her desire. The Captain is close to his own end, his hips faltering slightly as heat rises in his face. His eyes close, his mouth opens, as he rests his forehead to hers. Her body jerks. She tenses as a loud mewl escapes her lungs. She digs her fingers into his back again as her body tightens around him for the final time. He slams into her one last time and she’s a goner. The pressure that had been building boils over and explodes through her, setting every fiber of her body on fire as her orgasm rips through her. It’s like a tsunami. Each wave larger and stronger, taller than the one before it. It totally levels her. Just like a small city on the edge of the vast, unforgiving ocean. The Captain is just along for the ride.
The General shudders as her body defies every sense of order and restraint it knows. Her feminine howls become muffled as he kisses her again. He gives up the fight moments later, grunting into her open mouth as he spills into her. They both breath heavy, gasping for air, huffing and puffing as they regain consciousness. She can’t help but smile, a few giggles erupting from her chest as she runs her long fingers up and down his spine. He rests his head on her chest and blinks slowly as he stares out of the large bay windows that adorn the walls of her apartment. The monotonous stroking of her fingers on his skin pulls him into a peace that he thought he’d never feel again. He blinks slowly out into the sky, full of bright stars and a moon that looks as though it was painted there. He blinks slowly. She stares up at the ceiling, her mind finally at peace but full of wild dreams and fantasies. She blinks slowly.
The Captain and the General are full of words and feelings that neither know exist in one another. Neither will speak them into existence for fear of what the other will say- or won’t say. The unlikely pair, remember? They’ll keep it that way. At least for tonight. They’ll just cherish the time they have together, knowing that he’ll be gone in a few days and that they won’t speak again until they do. They’ll keep it that way. At least until someone gains the courage to make it real. That’s not tonight.
Days pass. They’re on their way to a battle of epic proportions. The General stands tall between the Captain and her King. Wakanda’s greatest warriors stand behind them, awaiting the arrival of the very threat that brought the Captain to Wakanda in the first place. Alien vessels land in the distance. The General takes a deep breath as her mind stills. This is who they are. This is what they do. T’Challa eyes their opponents before beginning their battle scream.
“Yibombe! Yibombe! Yibombe!”
The General slams her spear against the ground as she chants. Nothing else in the moment matters. Or so she thought. Then, suddenly, fingers curl around hers, intertwining like vines. She turns her head and locks eyes with the Captain. His eyes move around her face before they reconnect with hers. He doesn’t have to say a word for her to hear what he’s saying. She smiles softly. A smile, or a ghost of a smile, tugs at the corners of his mouth and they both just know. If they make it out of this, things will be different. It’s real now. It’s in the air, swirling around them. He turns his head back toward the landing space ships before him. If they make it through this, things will be different between them.
He takes a breath. She blinks slowly. T’Challa crosses his arms over his chest, his mask materializing over his face. Thanos points their direction and both sides take off in a sprint, meeting one another in the middle. If they make it out of this, things will be different between the Captain and the General.
Took me long enough! Sorry, I had to work today and then when I got home, I took a nap, lmao. But anyway, here is another CapKoye one shot for the Captains’ birthday. I was gonna tag everybody, but it’s late and I’m tired and I have to get up at 3am for work tomorrow. I’ll tag everyone tomorrow :)
edit 7/5 - adding tags… let me know if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, lol, and if you’ve already liked/reblogged/sent me a note, sorry for tag :)
The Captain and the General have come to an agreement after quite a few long conversations about it. He loves Wakanda, he really does, but he’s a Brooklyn kid. The street hot dogs, the smell of trash wafting through the air, the incessant police sirens and honking cars; it’s home. She would sigh heavily at every mention of it, but those big blue-green eyes eventually won her over. So now, they spend their winters and springs in Wakanda, and their summers and autumns in Brooklyn. T’Challa teased her endlessly when she first approached the idea with him but assured her that Ayo was more than capable of handling her responsibilities while she’s away. He sent her off with his blessing, and a shitty smirk playing on his lips.
She hated it at first, being in America that is. There were only two things she would look forward to about her impending “vacation”; vanilla bean frappuccinos from Starbucks and today. This day has quickly become one of her favorites for a multitude of reasons, but today is especially special and she has big plans for them both. She wakes earlier than usual to get in her run and to get her liquid cocaine while he sleeps in. It sounds silly. Captain America sleeping in, but this is one of the only days that he obliges her. She holds tight to her green and white cup as she jogs up the six flights of stairs to his- their apartment. The door sticks a little, so she turns the knob and pushes her hip against it, bumping into it three or four times before it finally pops open.
