Chapter 3
Erik was discharged from the medical bay the same morning. T’Challa was there to pick him up.
Erik didn’t exactly have any better options, so he had no choice but to follow behind T’Challa as they made their way to T'Challa's quarters. He was unusually subdued, slightly dazed and burning with shame and humiliation, still feeling the sting from the earlier spanking and fucking. When T'Challa had finally pulled out of him just now, Erik had cleaned himself up as best as he could, but he thought that he could still feel a few warm drops of T'Challa's seed running out of his wrecked hole, down the insides of his thighs. And the slightest pressure at the top of his thighs, where they joined the base of his reddened ass, reignited a warm throb with each step that he took. It was an intimate, shameful kind of pain that lingered, making him acutely aware of just how thoroughly T'Challa had ruined him. No doubt Erik had suffered worse injuries before, but the spanking stung in a way which made him squirm internally with mortification whenever he was reminded of it.
He had rebuffed all of T'Challa's attempts earlier to soothe away the hurt, but now Erik ached to reach behind himself and squeeze, to try and rub away the lingering sting. But that would be an admission of defeat on a whole other level, and every cell in his body rebelled at that idea. The memory of how T'Challa had just - had just bent him over, spanked and fucked him as he'd pleased was already bad enough. He still couldn't believe that T'Challa had bested him so easily. He had sliced through Erik's resistance as easily a hot knife through butter. Erik had spread his own legs and practically begged for it.
Hot shame and indignation roiled in the pit of Erik's stomach. Anger, shame and, worse, a sneaking suspicion that if T'Challa tried to bend him over a second time, his inner omega would just mewl and show its belly, spread for T'Challa and beg T'Challa to fuck him again as hard as he pleased. Fuck! He was weak. Weak, a slave to his own base desires for an alpha to take him in hand.
He had to - he had to find a way out of this. Erik considered his options. Perhaps he could try to kill T'Challa again - but no. Even if he succeeded in assassinating T'Challa, he would never be able to hold on to the throne of Wakanda, not when he had already lost one coup. What little public goodwill he had left would have immediately evaporated the minute everyone discovered that he had been hiding his status as a lone omega.
Or maybe he could try to escape Wakanda? Hide out in America, like his father had done two decades ago? But Erik knew, deep down, that it would never work out. He had seen firsthand how advanced Wakanda’s technology was, and it would be child’s play for T’Challa to track him down again. Worse, now that the entire population knew that he was an unclaimed omega, all the eligible alphas in Wakanda would be after him. It would just be a matter of time until he was overpowered and forcefully claimed, and by someone who would be a completely unknown element.
As much as Erik hated to admit it, he knew, deep down, that he would be safer by T'Challa's side. T'Challa wasn’t cruel or sadistic. He was unlikely to abuse Erik or take advantage of him - well, not beyond what an alpha guardian was entitled to from his omega ward. Certainly T'Challa hadn't been above disciplining Erik by force if necessary. The memory of the punishment he'd been subjected to earlier flashed into Erik's mind again, and he winced. But that hadn't been a serious punishment so much as a show of force, really - a demonstration to Erik of who was in charge. Intended to make him submit, but not to hurt or cow him. Not many other alphas would have been that careful. Erik knew that. And if he was honest with himself, that had been the hottest sex he'd ever had. He just wanted to be fucked by that alpha cock again.
The thought made Erik flush hot with embarrassment. Fuck! He was behaving exactly like the needy, cock-hungry omegas that he has always looked down on, the lust-addled omegas who needed their alphas to keep them in line. Heedless of the pain, Erik quickened his steps, as if trying to run away from that memory. All the while, he continued to think, weighing his options.
Staying with T'Challa really did seem to be the best possible course of action right now. No other alpha would dare lay a finger on an omega under the king's guardianship. Erik could simply play along, hide behind T'Challa as a shield while he bided his time, waiting for the right opening to make his move. If he just laid low, behaved himself and acted like a good omega for T'Challa -
NO!
Aghast at the sudden, horny direction his thoughts had taken, Erik gave himself a mental slap. He needed to stop thinking with his dick. He forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths as he pictured the least sexy images that he could dream up, hoping that T'Challa hadn't noticed his sudden spike in arousal.
If he had, T'Challa gave no reaction to it. A few more moments passed with no outward reaction from the alpha, and Erik gradually began to unwind.
No.
He wasn't going to just bend over and be a good little omega. Erik would make sure that T'Challa regretted his foolish decision to become Erik's guardian alpha. He resolved to be as difficult as possible until T’Challa gave up on him of his own accord.
He didn’t need any alpha, least of all T’Challa, the man he had hated all his life.