Chapter 5
Erik felt as if someone had wrapped him in a big ball of cotton wool. His thoughts were slow and sluggish, hazy ideas drifting through the soft warm fog of his mind. But he felt so delightfully snug and comfortable right now that nothing could bother him.
Nothing, except -
"Finally awake?" a familiar voice said from somewhere on Erik’s left.
T'Challa. Again.
Erik kept his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, then let out a long, slow exhale, trying to pretend that he was still asleep.
“I know you’ve woken up,” T’Challa continued, sounding quite amused now.
Erik didn’t bother to ask how T’Challa could have known. Giving up the pretense, he opened his eyes and stretched his limbs, holding back a groan as his joints cracked, and then made himself sit up.
T’Challa was sitting on the bed beside him, scrolling through some sort of display projected from his kimoyo bead bracelet. A plate of tropical fruit - cut up mango, papaya and watermelon - was propped up on his lap, and as Erik blinked blearily at him, T'Challa delicately picked up a small slice of mango with his fingers and then popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly licking the sweet juice off his fingers after he swallowed the piece of fruit.
Erik's heart rate spiked. He took a deep breath and forced himself to act like he wasn't affected.
“Had a good rest?” T'Challa's tone was friendly, but his dark brown eyes were bright with amusement.
It had been the best sleep that Erik had had in ages, but he wasn’t about to tell T’Challa that. T’Challa had practically fucked him into unconsciousness again after sucking his cock earlier. The alpha was really insatiable. Erik had a pretty high sex drive, but even he couldn’t keep up. He wondered if it was a side-effect of the heart-shaped herb. Erik hadn’t felt any difference in his arousal levels back when he was on it, but maybe the herb worked differently on omegas. Or maybe alphas like T'Challa really were just that horny all the time.
Erik didn't bother to answer T'Challa, letting his sullen silence speak for itself.
“Come here,” T’Challa said, patting the empty spot beside him on the bed.
It wasn't spoken like a command - T'Challa didn't sound particularly imperious or demanding - but Erik knew an order when he heard one. Defiantly, he remained where he was, glaring sulkily at T'Challa.
T'Challa set the plate of fruit down on the bedside table, then reached out towards Erik. Before Erik could react, he found himself abruptly scooped close to T'Challa, pulled in tight so that he was curled up by the alpha's side.
"Hey!" Erik protested. And then, "Ow!" as T'Challa smacked him lightly on his ass, a sharp, brief swat with his open palm.
A warm stinging heat radiated out from Erik's right ass cheek, pain which faded away in seconds. That had been more of a warning tap than a punishment spanking, but a hot flush of embarrassment still lingered on Erik’s cheeks even after the initial flash of pain had faded away. Indignant, Erik made a brief effort to squirm free, trying to roll away from T'Challa, but it was just a half-hearted struggle. He already knew from past experience that T'Challa was simply too strong to fight off.
"Stop struggling." T'Challa leaned his head down and gave Erik a light warning nip against the side of his neck. Erik froze as the alpha's sharp teeth grazed shallowly against his skin. At the same time, T'Challa's hand descended upon the spot that he had just spanked, soothing him with gentle stroking rubs.
"Shh," T'Challa murmured, almost cooing at him. "It's all right." He mouthed at the stinging skin on Erik’s neck where he'd scraped his teeth, then pressed a soft, warm kiss against the side of his neck.
Despite himself, Erik shuddered, then went still. It was somewhat alarming how quickly his resistance faded away into resignation, how he only bristled just a little before he submitted to being fondled by T'Challa, to being kissed and stroked and petted. Being manhandled like this no longer sparked the same white-hot fury that he'd felt at the start. It was too pleasurable. It just felt so damn good, what with T'Challa's hands stroking and petting his ass, T'Challa pressing tender kisses and long, languid licks up the side of his neck - one of Erik's favorite erogenous zones. His omega hindbrain was preening in delight under T'Challa's attentions, relishing in the show of authority followed by warm affection.
Erik only grumbled a little under his breath before allowing T'Challa to arrange his limbs as he pleased, so that Erik was leaning against the side of his body, curled up into the crook of his arm.
T'Challa shifted beneath him, reaching out for the plate of fruit that he'd set aside earlier. He balanced it on his lap, then delicately picked up a small slice of mango between two fingers, lifting it to Erik's lips.
Erik's eyes widened. He knew what was expected of him, but still he hesitated, fighting back the instinct to just open his mouth and take a bite. It was a little galling to be treated as if he couldn't even feed himself.
"Come on," T'Challa said, his voice soft and coaxing. "Open up. You'll like it. This is from our freshest harvest, taken directly from the royal gardens."
He nudged the slice of fruit against Erik's lips, and Erik couldn't suppress a tiny shiver. His resolve wavered at the sight of the mango before him, golden in its temptations, at the sound of T'Challa's voice, a low and husky purr that went straight to his cock. T'Challa wasn't using the Voice on him right now - his cousin hadn't used his Voice ever since Erik had complained about it - but T'Challa was right on the verge of doing so now, and Erik could tell. There was an undertone of a purr in T'Challa's voice which rumbled through the deepest recesses of his mind, setting his instincts aflame. For one terrible, glorious moment, he wanted nothing more than to yield sweetly to T'Challa, to accept everything that the alpha had to offer.
"I can feed myself," Erik snapped, petulantly batting T'Challa's hand away.
The piece of fruit slid out of T'Challa's grip, landing on the floor with a wet squelch as the ripe fruit burst into a squishy yellow mess. If not for T'Challa's quick reflexes, the entire plate of fruits would have followed suit as well.
Erik froze, his heart sinking in dismay.
"Now look what you've done," T'Challa said softly.
"It was an accident!" Erik protested. He fought down his unreasonable feelings of guilt and panic. Alpha is angry with me, a small voice wailed at the back of his mind.
Erik ruthlessly quashed it and began looking for an escape route, but T'Challa was too fast. There was a small, brief scuffle, and then Erik found himself pinned face down and ass up on the bed. Again. For the second time that day. The unfairness of it all made Erik yowl in indignation, and he began to twist and struggle, trying to get out from under T'Challa. But he was held down too securely to manage more than a futile wriggle.
"I know, I know," T'Challa said, smoothing one warm hand over the swell of Erik's ass. Erik sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. He couldn’t see T’Challa’s face right now, but T'Challa didn't sound angry. If anything, he seemed fondly amused. "You didn't really mean it. But this wouldn't have happened if you weren't being such a brat."
Erik's splutter of outrage was cut off by the first loud smack against his ass. Four more quick swats were delivered, two against each ass cheek, leaving him breathless from the speed and decisiveness in which T'Challa had so efficiently taken him down. Heat bloomed across his face and a tingling warmth spread across his ass as the humiliating sound of the skin slapping against skin rang out through the room.
Then the pressure on his lower back disappeared.
Was that it?
He was somewhat surprised that T'Challa had gone so easy on him this time. Nothing really hurt, except for his pride.
He seized the chance to scramble free before T’Challa could change his mind. Erik quickly rolled over, making sure his ass was out of the line of fire. He scowled up at T'Challa, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and the beginnings of arousal. "Fuck you!"
T'Challa merely placed the plate of fruit back onto his lap, looking completely unruffled. "Sure you don't want to try some?"
"…"
Erik wanted to tell T'Challa to fuck off again, but for some reason his lips just couldn't seem to form the words. Before he could react, T'Challa picked up another slice of mango, nudging it against Erik’s lips.
The sweet, tropical scent of the fruit hit Erik’s nose when he inhaled, and a few drops of the juice smeared across his lips. Just the barest, tantalizing hint of sweetness, a prelude to so much more.
Maybe the spanking had made him more pliant, no matter how much Erik wished to deny it. This time, Erik’s lips parted without resistance, and T’Challa placed the mango in his mouth.
Erik inhaled sharply. Sweetness exploded over his tongue, the juice filling his mouth as he bit down on the soft piece of fruit. It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. Sweet and tangy with just a hint of creaminess, perfect in its flavour and aroma, leaving behind an aftertaste of a light, barely noticeable sour squeeze on his tongue after he’d swallowed.
An almost orgasmic moan of bliss slipped out of him before Erik could stop himself. T'Challa's smile widened.
Erik bristled. If T’Challa did anything like call him a ‘good omega’ right now, or praised him for ‘being obedient’, Erik was going to sock him right then and there, regardless of how hard he would be spanked after.
But T'Challa didn't say anything condescending. He merely picked up the next slice of fruit, a cut piece of sunset-orange papaya this time, and lifted it to Erik’s lips.
Erik continued to glare at T’Challa, but this time, he barely hesitated before opening his mouth to accept it. Mmmm. The flesh of the fruit was soft but not mushy, just the right amount of firmness to indicate that it wasn’t overly green or over-ripe. It was sweeter than the mango he had eaten earlier, with no tangy aftertaste this time, just a pure, rich creamy burst of flavour in his mouth.
Erik subtly shifted closer to T'Challa, relaxing against T'Challa as the alpha continued to hand-feed him. T’Challa was practically radiating waves of approval as Erik continued to eat out of his hand, occasionally flicking his tongue out to lap the droplets of juice off his finger. It was so good. Not just the fruits - the knowledge that his alpha was providing for him, making sure that he had enough delicious food to eat, keeping him fed and comfortable. A purr rumbled deep in Erik's chest, a vocalisation of deep, primal satisfaction that bubbled up from within his very core.
The omega part of Erik could sense T'Challa's approval settling gently over him, like a warm, snug blanket being placed over his shoulders. It was so satisfying on such a deeply primal level that Erik panicked.
Why was he letting this happen? He hated T’Challa, Erik reminded himself. He didn't want any of this. Hadn't he resolved to be as difficult as possible not even an hour ago?
Erik shifted irritably. “I’m full,” he lied, pushing T’Challa’s hand away. But he did it gently this time, not wanting to risk another punishment.
T'Challa raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“Yes!” Erik snapped. He leaned away from T’Challa. "And don't - don’t stare at me like that,” he muttered. Having T’Challa’s attention completely focused on him like that, feeding him and - and cuddling him, as he gave Erik that look of soft approval - it made Erik squirm internally. He hated how much he liked it. It was disgusting. "Go back to whatever you were doing just now, before I woke up."
T'Challa shrugged, then set the plate down on the bedside table.
A small part of Erik was secretly disappointed that T'Challa had just given in so easily. Surely T’Challa had to know that he wasn’t being entirely honest. Was he really going to just stop feeding Erik? Erik hadn't even tried all the different fruits on that plate yet. He sneaked a longing glance at the little nectarine left over on the plate, glistening with juice and looking incredibly tasty.
The rest of his mind quickly shouted that traitorous bit of himself into submission. Erik put on a neutral expression as T’Challa thumbed a bead on his kimoyo bracelet, initiating the projection of a holographic display before him.
Erik lay down and did his best to ignore T’Challa, forcefully steering his thoughts away from the annoying alpha and the tantalizing plate of fruits on his bedside table. Images and text scrolled up on the display as T’Challa skimmed through it. From his side of the bed, Erik couldn’t really see what T’Challa was reading about, but he certainly seemed engrossed.
Minutes passed.
Erik coughed once, experimentally, a small, barely-audible clearing of his throat.
T’Challa didn’t react.
The silence stretched.
Erik considered reaching over T'Challa just so that he could grab that tantalizing plate of fruit, but then T'Challa would probably try to feed him again, and he absolutely did not want to put up with that (Erik told himself). He gritted his teeth and rolled onto his side.
T’Challa continued to ignore him for several long minutes, absorbed in whatever he was doing on his kimoyo beads.
Erik finally snapped. He could no longer pretend that he wasn't bothered. Being the centre of T'Challa's attention had been uncomfortable, but T’Challa just doing his own thing, almost as if he didn't even care, was so much more aggravating. If he wanted to be Erik's guardian, he could damn well act like it, instead of treating Erik as if he were invisible.
Erik clenched his teeth and sat up abruptly, turning towards T’Challa. “What'chu looking at?” Erik asked aggressively.
T’Challa lowered his wrist and looked at him from over the top of the holographic display, appearing completely unperturbed by Erik's rude tone. “Just doing a bit of online shopping.”
“Huh.” Erik blinked. He wouldn’t have thought that T’Challa was the type of person who shopped online. Didn’t he have servants to handle this sort of thing for him? He tried to picture T’Challa getting back to his room after a long day of whatever kingly shit he usually did during the day, and then curling up in his bed to browse the latest listings on Amazon. Did Amazon even ship to Wakanda? Or did Wakanda have its own equivalent of Wakandan Amazon?
Erik sidled up towards T'Challa, his curiosity somewhat piqued. “Shopping? For what?" He peered at the display in front of T'Challa.
"Omega sex toys," T’Challa said.
Erik's jaw dropped. "The fuck?"
In response, T'Challa tilted his wrist so that Erik could see the display as well. The projection showed a website displaying an array of wildly filthy sex toys. Knotting dildos, vibrators and anal plugs, wicked-looking spanking implements - straps, canes and paddles, the sight of which made Erik wince and clench, all the way up to fantastically elaborate sex benches that promised to "hold your partner in the perfect position for a gangbang!" Erik boggled.
"There's nothing to be shy about," T'Challa said, sounding amused as Erik sputtered.
"I'm not shy," Erik protested, feeling his face heat up with mortification. How had he found himself in this situation? "It's just - why are you looking at this shit? Omega sex toys?! It's none of your fucking business!"
"I'm your guardian alpha, Erik," T'Challa said patiently. "It is my business to make sure that you're sexually satisfied."
Erik was temporarily rendered speechless. His eyes widened in horror as T'Challa's finger hovered over an image of a monstrously large black dildo, one that was ribbed up and down the shaft and which was labelled "ten inches, vibranium powered. Lasts for decades!" It was pricey.
"Are you crazy? Don't get that one!" Erik protested, making a lunge for the kimoyo bracelet before T'Challa could add that beast of a dildo to his cart. There was no way that would fit in him. Even trying to imagine it made his hole pucker.
T'Challa shifted his wrist out of Erik's grip. "Don't grab at me," he admonished.
Erik tensed at the reprimand, but T'Challa made no further move to discipline him and was now turning back to his shopping instead. To Erik's relief, he scrolled past the big dildo without a second glance.
"I won't get anything you don't like," T'Challa said earnestly. "I'd like to have your input -"
"No!" Erik interrupted. He couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than being forced to pick out sex toys together with T'Challa so that the alpha could use them on him. Bast, the very idea made him cringe with mortification.
"I don't care. Just - just get whatever you want," Erik muttered. It didn't look like he would be able to dissuade T'Challa from buying at least a few sex toys. "Nothing that big, for fuck's sake. And don't buythe gangbang bench!"
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to get that," T'Challa said. "I certainly don't intend to share you."
The sudden tinge of possessiveness in T'Challa's voice made Erik stiffen, a shiver running down his spine. He tore his gaze away from the sex toys to sneak another glance at T'Challa. But T'Challa's expression didn't change as he scrolled through the site.
I must have imagined it, Erik decided.
"They'll be arriving in a few hours,," T'Challa said. He shut off the projection and got out of bed. "I have a council meeting in the meantime. Do you want to come with me?"
Erik swallowed. He wanted to say yes, but - it was now public knowledge that he was an omega, and everyone would expect T'Challa to - to fuck him, to discipline him, to basically do whatever he wanted to keep Erik in line. It was what they would all be thinking whenever they looked at him. Erik squirmed internally. This was so humiliating.
But he couldn't hide here in T'Challa's room forever.
Erik gritted his teeth and stood up abruptly. He wasn't going to be intimidated by a bunch of gossipy old fucks. "Whatever. Let's go."