Chapter 2
Erik opened his eyes.
He blinked, temporarily blinded by the glare of the white fluorescent lights shining down upon him. When his vision refocused, he could see that he was in a room with curved, sleek white walls, surrounded by some sort of futuristic off-white machines purring and flashing some sort of holographic display.
This definitely wasn't heaven. Or hell, for that matter.
Erik groaned aloud.
Fucking T'Challa. He had told T'Challa to just let him die.
Erik pulled himself upright to a sitting position on the bed, internally taking stock of himself. He was dressed in thin cotton pajamas which were only loosely buttoned, revealing a good portion of his torso. The wound in his chest where T'Challa had stabbed him was gone. In its place was a raised scar, spiderwebbing across the left side of his chest, directly over his heart.
"How are you feeling?"
Erik turned his head towards the source of the voice. T'Challa, his blasted cousin, was sitting in a small sofa beside his bed, dressed in a form-fitting black robe with deep purple embroidery, with his arms folded across his chest. He looked perfectly composed, and not even a little bit guilty about ignoring Erik's dying wish.
Erik gritted his teeth. "Fine," he said grudgingly.
He did feel fine. He wasn't in any pain at all. Save for the raised scar on his chest, the marvels of Wakandan medical science had somehow managed to cure his mortal wounds with barely a scratch left on him, and all within…
"How long have I been out of it?" Erik asked.
"About half a day," T'Challa said. "It's eight in the morning now."
Erik knew that he really ought to be more angry at T'Challa for ignoring him and just going ahead to do whatever he wanted, but at that moment, all Erik could muster up was a deep sigh.
"I told you I'd rather be dead," he muttered.
It wasn't as if Erik were suicidal. But from the moment the Dora Milaje had taken up their spears against him, Erik had known that he wasn't getting out of this alive. He might have been able to hold off the Dora Milaje all by himself, but with only the support of Border Tribe - and not even that, in the end - he could never have held on to the throne of Wakanda, not without the support of the people. That was the moment that Erik had resigned himself to dying a glorious death in battle. A glorious death for a worthy cause - there were worse deaths than that. He had made peace with that a long time ago.
Of course, T'Challa had to fuck that all up.
When T'Challa didn't respond, Erik narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you gonna do now? If you think I'm going to let you lock me up -"
Automatically, Erik's upper lip curled, and he bared his teeth in an angry snarl. The mere thought of being put into shackles, chained up behind bars like some slave, made his blood boil.
"You don't have to worry about that," T'Challa said earnestly.
Erik snorted. "What, so everyone's just fine with it? Me killing that Dora? The coup - all of that - trying to take over the world?"
"You did win the throne in fair combat, in accordance with our traditions," T'Challa pointed out. "And the Dora Milaje are sworn to be loyal to the throne of Wakanda, regardless of whoever holds it as King or Queen. All of your orders were issued while you were the rightful king of Wakanda. Despite this, there were still many factions in the council who were calling for your head - that was, until they found out what you were."
"They found out what?" Erik said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
He was starting to get a very bad feeling about this. Surely they couldn't have - surely not -
"That you're an omega."
Absolute silence followed T’Challa’s simple pronouncement. Erik's blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. For a heartbeat, his mind went completely blank. Then a thousand panicky thoughts whirled through his head at once.
How, how had they found out? That shouldn't have been possible. He had been so careful. For years, he'd taken all his heat suppressants as regularly as clockwork. He had hacked into the American database to erase all traces of his medical records, anything that could have possibly identified him as an omega. Erik knew only too well the fate that would befall a lone omega, an omega alone in a hostile country without an alpha guardian or bond mate.
The healing. Of course - that's how they would have known. They would have found out about it while they were patching him up.
Fuck. Fuck, this was bad.
T'Challa continued to speak, "Once that was discovered, it was a simple enough matter to persuade the council to place you under my guardianship. Even the ones who were initially quite hostile now felt that you couldn't be fully blamed. A lone omega, without proper guidance from an alpha, lashing out at those around him -"
"Stop!" Erik snapped.
T'Challa cut himself off mid-sentence, looking questioningly at Erik.
Erik forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It was very galling to be condescended to like this, to know that the rest of the Wakandans all thought of him as some sort of poor, lost little omega without an alpha, whose hormones were making him misbehave. But Erik had heard people say such things about omegas all his life. He told himself to focus on the bigger picture here.
"They want you to be my guardian alpha?"
"Yes," T'Challa confirmed. "I'm your closest alpha relative. It's only natural for you to be my ward until you find a proper mate."
Erik inhaled sharply. If he'd been brought up in Wakanda (as he should have been, he thought bitterly to himself), that would indeed have been the usual order of things.
Some of Erik's unhappiness must have shown through in his expression, because T'Challa hastened to reassure him, "You will not be a prisoner. As my ward, you’ll be permitted to go wherever you want in Wakanda - under my supervision.”
"Your ward," Erik sneered. "You want to be my guardian alpha? You really expect me to just bend over for you?"
“Yes,” T’Challa said.
Erik’s inhaled sharply, his mouth falling open in shock. So surprised was he by that simple acknowledgement from T’Challa that he was momentarily rendered speechless. That hadn’t been the answer that he had been expecting from T’Challa at all.
The expression on T’Challa’s face barely changed. But was it Erik’s imagination, or did T’Challa’s eyes seem… darker, somehow? His gaze was as steely as ever, but this time there was an edge to it that sent a thrill up Erik’s spine.
Erik swallowed hard. Fuck T'Challa. He had a lot of fucking nerve if he expected Erik to just submit so easily.
Erik opened his mouth, a cutting retort on the very tip of his tongue, but T’Challa was faster.
“Let me clarify,” T'Challa said first. "Of course I don't expect you to just 'bend over', as you've so colourfully put it. I fully expect you to fight me at every turn. But you need an alpha - "
Erik snapped. The wave of fury that swept over Erik upon hearing those words was so intense that for a fraction of a second, he literally saw red. Erik didn't need an alpha, much less this alpha. All his life, he had survived just fine on his own.
"You fucking -!"
Temporarily rendered speechless with rage, Erik lunged for T'Challa, his hands balled into fists. He wanted nothing more than to punch T'Challa so hard in his smug face that T'Challa would be the one lying in the hospital bed instead. If T'Challa expected him to put up a fight, Erik would gladly give T'Challa what he wanted. He was going to make sure T'Challa regretted it. Adrenaline pumped through Erik’s veins, sharpening his senses and sending an electric thrill through his entire body as he drew his fist back.
Then everything happened so quickly that Erik barely had time to blink. One moment he was lunging for T'Challa, fists up, and the next moment T'Challa had somehow sidestepped him, then spun around in a flash, whipping a hand out to grip Erik by the scruff of his neck. He caught Erik by the arms, twisting then behind his back in a very effective armlock.
Erik stood frozen in shock for a heartbeat, stunned and completely immobilised. He strained against T’Challa’s hold, but pain shot up his arms whenever he tried to break free. The grip T’Challa had on him was firm and absolutely unyielding.
How could T’Challa have subdued him so easily? T'Challa had beaten him so quickly that it was just embarrassing. In their earlier fights, they had been almost evenly matched, but now T'Challa had moved so quickly that Erik could barely even see his motions. Faster than was humanly possible, thanks to the powers of the heart-shaped herb - powers which Erik realized, to his dismay, that he no longer had.
Of course the Wakandans would have removed the heart-shaped herb from Erik’s system while they were healing him against his will, even though Erik had won the throne and the herb fair and square by T'Challa's own admission. Erik's heart wrenched at the unfairness of it all.
"Let go of me!" Erik began to struggle in earnest again, trying to wriggle free, so angry that he could barely even breathe.
The hand holding Erik at the scruff of his neck tightened. Erik went still as T'Challa's thumb pressed right against the soft, sensitive skin over his bonding gland. Suddenly, it seemed that all Erik could smell was T’Challa’s scent, T’Challa’s alpha pheromones flooding his nostrils. A gasp left Erik’s lips, wrenched out of him against his will as his knees went weak.
Fuck. Why on earth was he reacting to T’Challa like this? Erik hadn't been so affected in any of their previous fights. But T’Challa hadn’t known that Erik was an omega back then, and he wasn’t flaring his scent on purpose, taking advantage of his alpha status to force Erik into submission.
And it was working. Erik just barely managed to hold back a whimper at the overwhelming presence of alpha, his omega hindbrain purring in satisfaction at the way T’Challa was now softly stroking the base of his neck in an attempt to calm him down. It just felt so good. Against his will, Erik felt the tension drain out of him, his body automatically relaxing as he instinctively tried to lean into his cousin’s embrace.
No! He could fight this. He wasn’t some sort of mindless slave to his instincts. Erik bared his teeth again and began trying to squirm free, trying his best to ignore the maddening cocktail of hormones flooding his system.
"Stop," T’Challa said.
Erik froze. The command, deep and authoritative, seemed to reverberate through Erik's bones, ringing through his entire body with the force of an earthquake.
The alpha's Voice. It was a manner of speaking meant for calming down difficult omegas, a way of soothing - and commanding - an omega, by modulating their intonation of voice in a way that omegas found difficult to resist.
Difficult, but not impossible. Despite the compulsion to obey, to just stop fighting and give in to T’Challa’s offer to - to be his guardian, to look after him in every way which an alpha was supposed to provide for his omega - Erik just gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles again.
“Erik, if you don’t stop trying to fight me, you’ll regret it.”
The same Voice, but this time, the dangerous silky purr, that undertone of threat in T’Challa’s words struck right to Erik’s heart. A chill swept through him at that promise of dire punishment, but that was quickly swept away by the red-hot fury. How dare T’Challa think he could just push Erik around like that?
Erik strained against T'Challa's arms, defiantly trying to kick back with his feet in the way he had been taught to break out of holds during Marine training.
A heartbeat later, T'Challa had somehow twisted them around and bent Erik over by the waist. Erik experienced a sudden moment of disorientation as he found himself bent over the bed, his groin pressing down against the top of T'Challa's thighs as T'Challa sat down on the mattress and then pulled Erik over his lap. It all happened so inhumanly quickly that it was simply impossible for Erik to fight back. All Erik could do was gape down at the floor, suddenly extremely aware of just how exposed and vulnerable his current position was. His cheeks burned with the humiliation of finding himself face down and ass up, bent over his alpha cousin's lap.
With a sinking feeling, Erik realised what was about to happen to him.
Panic set in, panic and rage and denial. No! This couldn't be happening to me! Desperately, he made a final, futile attempt to struggle free, but T'Challa was simply too strong, and in this vulnerable position, pinned in place over T'Challa's knee, Erik couldn’t even kick back at T’Challa or twist around to hit him. When he threw an arm behind his back to try and shield himself, T'Challa just twisted it behind Erik and pinned his arm to his lower back.
"Fuck you!"
The first sharp slap across Erik's ass rang out through the room, the sound of it cracking through the air like a thunderclap. Heat radiated out from the patch of skin which T'Challa had struck, heat and a not-unpleasant tingling sensation, much like the sensation of sinking into a bath filled with water that was just a touch too hot.
Erik yelped out loud, more out of shock and embarrassment than actual pain. He couldn't believe that T’Challa was - T’Challa was actually spanking him. Not very hard, but still forceful enough to leave a lingering sting, a frisson of pain which went straight to Erik's groin and made his cock twitch with interest. He was treating Erik as if he were some unruly omega who needed to be taken in hand. That thought made him flush all over with rage and mortification.
And, oh God, the worst part was how much Erik liked it. The next firm slap across the fullest part of Erik's ass cheeks drew a bitten-off whimper from his lips at the heady mixture of pain and pleasure flooding through his body. He struggled and bucked hard in an effort to get free, but all he succeeded in doing was to rub his hardening cock against the the top of T'Challa's thighs. The resultant moan from Erik at the delicious friction against his cock couldn't be mistaken for anything other than a moan of arousal.
Fuck. After this, he would never be able to look T'Challa in the face again. The thought sent another wave of mortification crashing over Erik and set off a fresh bout of squirming and struggling to get free. A litany of angry invective spilled forth from his lips, curses and dire threats to kill T'Challa and his entire family if he didn't let Erik up this instant.
In response, T'Challa simply increased the forcefulness and frequency of the smacks landing against his ass. Within moments, the intensity of the spanking had Erik gasping and whimpering despite his best efforts to remain stoic, too breathless to even think about trying to insult T'Challa. The lightweight, thin cotton material of the hospital gown offered barely any protection against the flurry of spanks that T'Challa was dealing out, hard smacks that drove all thoughts of defiance out of his mind. His ass bounced beneath each punishing smack of T'Challa's palm as the heat in his buttocks built to a fiery crescendo. T'Challa was really making good on his promise to make Erik regret it.
For some reason, the pain of the spanking didn't damp Erik's arousal in the slightest. Fuck! Erik hadn't even known that he had this kinky side buried deep within him. He was getting wet now, so wet that he was sure that T'Challa would be able to smell it on him, maybe even see the telltale stain of his slick through the thin cotton gown. With his enhanced senses, there was no way that T'Challa wouldn't be able to tell.
Erik wanted to die of embarrassment. He was more painfully aroused than he had ever been before in his entire life. If T'Challa didn't stop soon, he was going to come all over himself and T'Challa. He couldn't take it anymore.
Then T'Challa's hand stilled, the smacks no longer raining down against his heated ass. He let his palm rest over the skin that he had just warmed, then began to rub lightly across the surface of Erik's skin, drawing a fresh, broken whimper from Erik.
But it was only a momentary reprieve. Erik barely even had time to catch his breath before T'Challa started to reach for the hem of his hospital gown, drawing it up over his hips.
A thrill of absolute horror made Erik's blood run cold. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been given anything to wear beneath the gown, and the only thing protecting his modesty right now was the flimsy scrap of cotton fabric of his gown - fabric which had been almost soaked through with his slick.
Erik’s cheeks burned hot with humiliation. "No, stop!" he protested.
"Don't pretend you don't want this." T'Challa's voice was firm, but there was a light touch of amusement in it that made Erik flush hot again.
Without warning, and before Erik could protest further, T’Challa yanked the hem of his gown all the way up, exposing the heated flesh of his ass to the cool air of the hospital room. Erik’s whimper of mortification was abruptly cut off when he was manhandled onto the bed, T'Challa pushing him up off his lap as he got to his feet. A heartbeat later, Erik found himself positioned on all fours on the bed, face down and ass up, knees bent and legs spread wide with his hips tilted up. Hands gripped firmly onto both sides of his hips, pinning him in place.
T'Challa was going to fuck him. And Erik couldn’t truthfully say that he didn’t want it. He was so wet that even he could smell the sweet scent of his own slick permeating the air, so hard that he felt like he would burst if he didn't get any friction around his cock. When T'Challa wrapped a hand around the shaft of Erik's cock, Erik's moan of bliss was so shameless that it even made himself flush.
"N-nnnn - ohhh-"
Erik wanted to tell T'Challa to stop, one last shred of pride in his lust-addled mind somehow managing to assert itself, but his feeble protest trailed off into a groan of pleasure at the sensation of T'Challa's cock nudging against his hole. He began to grind back eagerly against T'Challa's cock, heedless of the little sparks of pain ignited by the contact of his tender ass cheeks against T'Challa's groin. T'Challa was ruining him and he hated it. He loved it. Erik had always taken pains to avoid having sex with any alphas, for fear that his omega status would be revealed, and now that he realised what he had been missing out on, he never wanted to live without it again. T'Challa's alpha scent filled his nostrils, driving him wild with lust. All Erik wanted to do was to spread himself for T'Challa, to be split open on the alpha's hot, hard cock. No one else would be able to fuck him as well as an alpha could, to make him cry out and beg for more from the mere touch of his cock against Erik's hole.
Erik keened out loud as T'Challa thrust in to him, one sharp, forward snap of his hips as he sheathed himself fully in Erik's ass. Erik's breath left his lungs in a gasp. Stars exploded before his eyes at the sensation of the thick, hard cock spitting him wide open, the sweet burn of penetration making his toes curl. T'Challa was so big, bigger than any beta man he'd slept with before, big enough that Erik thought he could feel T'Challa rearranging his insides. His hole clenched down greedily at the thick alpha cock within him, helpless little moans falling from his lips as T'Challa began to fuck him hard.
Each thrust of T'Challa's cock deep within him, each time T'Challa's groin made contact with the spanked-warm skin of Erik's ass, Erik let out a fresh cry of pleasure mixed with pain from Erik. He was so wet that there was an audible, lewd squelch whenever T'Challa thrust hard until him. Erik hadn't wanted any of this, but if T'Challa dared to stop now - to stop touching him, stop fucking him - he would kill T'Challa with his bare hands. Ecstasy flooded through his body as T'Challa rutted hard into his body, jerking Erik back by the hips to meet each of his thrusts so that Erik was pinned into position on his cock, unable to squirm free even if wanted. Fuck! It felt incredible, so overwhelmingly pleasurable that Erik knew he would never be able to stave off his orgasm before T'Challa knotted him.
Erik came untouched on T'Challa's next thrust, his vision whiting out with pleasure as his cock jerked and spilled his seed onto the bedsheets, just a few, scanty spurts of come characteristic of omegas. T'Challa continued to fuck him through his orgasm, heedless of Erik's desperate whines and thrashing to get away from the overstimulation. Omegas didn't have a refractory period like alphas, and Erik knew that T'Challa wasn't going to let him off until he had been fully satisfied as well.
Erik let his pliant and well-fucked body slump down against the bed, his hips still raised up and clutched tight in T'Challa's grip so that T'Challa could fuck him properly. Erik let out another small, plaintive whine again, h s hands twisting and tugging at the bedsheets. His hole beginning to feel sore and oversensitive. Despite how wet he was, he hadn't been fucked by an alpha before, and the constant stimulation by T'Challa's huge alpha cock was beginning to be a bit too much to bear.
As if reading Erik's mind, T'Challa leaned over Erik to nuzzle against his neck. A shudder went through Erik's body at the sensation of the alpha's lips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin at the base of his neck. His body went limp and pliant as he let out a sigh and relaxing into T'Challa's hold, even though T'Challa was fucking him just as hard as ever.
Erik could feel the base of T'Challa's cock beginning to swell now. The knot tugged at the rim of Erik's hole at the ebb of each thrust, keeping T'Challa's cock firmly locked within Erik's ass. It was a natural adaptation to keep the alpha's come within the omega's body to increase the chances of pregnancy and a successful breeding. The discomfort built within Erik as T'Challa's knot began to swell, and he began to squirm at the relentless increase in pressure as T'Challa's knot continued to expand, forcing his walls apart and putting pressure on the sore rim.
With a grunt and a final hard thrust, T'Challa tightened his hold on Erik's hips and then sheathed himself fully within Erik, his knot expanding fully to keep them locked together until he had pumped himself dry. It was huge, so huge that Erik couldn't help but cry out loud at the overwhelming sensation of pressure, of warm come flooding through his insides, so much more than any of his previous partners ever had. He had never been knotted before, and the sensation of pressure, pain and pleasure was simply too much. Dark spots danced across Erik's vision as he gave himself over fully to the waves of warmth and pleasure wracking his body. His cock jerked again, and he bucked and came one more time, hard, almost dry this time, just from the sheer pleasure of being knotted by an alpha for the first time.
Before Erik could catch his breath, T'Challa manhandled him easily into a sitting position, pulling Erik back onto his lap. Erik gasped at the unfamiliar sensation of the knot shifting within him, T'Challa's cock shifting but not sliding out. He whimpered at the discomfort as his sore, spanked ass made contact with the top of T'Challa's thighs, but he quietened down as T'Challa began to nuzzle him again, kissing his cheeks and the side of his neck, soothing and gentling him as a proper alpha should.
As the fog of lust faded and Erik started to come back to his senses, there was only one thought that filled his mind.
Fuck.