Spoils

T'Challa backed up quickly as Erik stalked closer to him, right until his back was flat against the wall.

Nowhere else to run.

He froze in place, his heart hammering in his chest. Alpha is angry, a small, horrified voice cried at the back of his mind. Disappointing an alpha - disappointing his mate - was the worst possible thing that an omega could do. Every instinct in T'Challa was screaming at him to beg for his alpha's forgiveness. Maybe even turn on the tears, see if he could tug on his alpha's heartstrings to get out of punishment -

Damn his new omega instincts. T'Challa cut off that train of thought, fighting back the unexpectedly powerful urge to bare his neck and drop to his knees. He wasn't going to beg Erik. He had more self-respect than that.

T'Challa did his best to look Erik right in the eyes without trembling, but the terrifying expression on Erik's face wasn't helping matters. Erik's eyes were gleaming a dark burnished gold. He bared his teeth at T'Challa in a snarl, revealing a flash of capped golden fangs.

It was incredibly intimidating. With effort, T'Challa just barely suppressed a flinch.

"You thought you could test me?" Erik's voice was soft and silky. Somehow, that was more terrifying than if he had shouted at T'Challa outright.

"Alpha - " was all T'Challa could say before his voice cracked. He stiffened, fully expecting Erik to hit him across the face, or worse.  

But to his surprise, Erik actually backed off. He took several steps backwards and folded his arms across his chest, still continuing to glare at T'Challa.

"Now, I don't wanna hear any complaints that I'm not being fair to you," Erik said. "So I'll give you one chance to explain yourself. Talk."

But what could he say? T’Challa couldn’t think of any excuses or explanations. The truth was, he had just plain forgotten about it. He had been so anxious to get to the throne room to ensure that Erik wasn't executing some sort of plot to take over the world that he had completely forgotten about Erik’s earlier instructions to him.  

Perhaps Erik would be appeased if he just apologized?

T’Challa swallowed. "I was in such a hurry to get here that I just forgot to see the doctor. That's all, I swear it. I wasn't testing you! Nothing like that." If Erik thought that he was deliberately pushing his boundaries, he would be in for it.

"You forgot, huh?"

T'Challa winced. "Yes. I’m sorry. I was in a rush just now - I didn't want to be late for the Council meeting."

"You know you're no longer required to attend meetings? You're a consort. It's not really any of your business."

"Um..." T'Challa knew full well that he wasn't required to attend, but he wasn't about to let Erik run unchecked over the Council.

But Erik didn't look angry about it, merely thoughtful. After a moment, he said, "You can sit in if you like. Under my supervision."

"Yes, alpha," T'Challa murmured, pleasantly surprised that Erik was being so reasonable about it. He gave Erik a tentative but genuine smile. "I'll go to the doctor right away."

"Not so fast," Erik said. "Yesterday, when we were talking in the medical bay - what did I say I'd do if you didn't listen to me?"

T’Challa’s jaw dropped. He remembered exactly what Erik had threatened to do, but surely Erik wouldn't…?

But Erik wasn't saying anything. His arms were folded over his chest, and he seemed content to watch T'Challa squirm as he waited for T'Challa to answer.

The silence stretched.

T'Challa's mouth was completely dry. His tongue felt heavy and awkward within his mouth, as if he had completely forgotten how to use it. There was another long moment of silence, before T’Challa finally forced himself to speak up.

"...Spank me?" T'Challa said in a small voice.

"Bend over my lap," Erik ordered.

T'Challa panicked.

"Erik, no," he protested, feeling his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He put aside his initial resolution not to beg Erik for anything. "It's not necessary. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I won't do it again."

Even as he was saying this, he knew from the look on Erik's face that it was going to be futile.

"And I'm going to make sure of that," Erik said. He sat back down on the throne, spreading his legs wide as he did so and lounging back against the high vibranium seat.

“Get to it,” Erik said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

T'Challa couldn't believe that this was happening to him. He had never been spanked before in his entire life. His parents weren't keen on corporal punishment, and besides, spanking just wasn't a punishment that was usually meted out to alpha children, much less the Crown Prince.

It could be worse, T’Challa told himself. He knew that Erik was being quite lenient with him. Erik could have stripped him, brutalised him, punished his disobedient omega with the vocal approval of the court - but somehow this punishment felt humiliating on an entirely different, visceral level.

T'Challa wavered, trying to decide whether he should try to push back again, or if he should just grit his teeth and bear it. So far, Erik had been quite amenable to most of his requests -

"Come here." The stern command rang out through the throne room, startling T'Challa out of his thoughts.

As if on automatic, T'Challa found himself scrambling to obey his alpha's orders. Before he knew it, he was standing before Erik. Erik put a hand on his shoulder and pushed down hard, applying pressure to make T'Challa bend over.

Erik's lap was quite warm. This silly observation crossed T’Challa’s mind as he found himself being bent over across Erik's thighs. The floor was awfully close to his face from this angle. It was a precarious position. T'Challa was too tall to be spanked over someone's knee like a disobedient child, and he had to wriggle in Erik’s lap in an effort to stay balanced. He spread his legs apart so that he wouldn't topple over, and Erik placed a hand on the small of his back to keep him steady.

"Ass up," Erik said.

Blushing horribly, T'Challa complied. He pushed his hips back and his ass out, feeling the fabric of his pants tighten over his backside. It was an extremely vulnerable pose, one that would leave the sensitive skin on his buttocks completely exposed to Erik's hand to smack and punish. He wished that he had worn thicker pants today. If only he had put on his vibranium-weave formal trousers this morning. As it were, the thin silken fabric of his pants wouldn't offer him much protection.

T'Challa gulped as Erik smoothed his palm over his ass, right at the curve of his cheeks where his trousers felt the tightest. The entirety of T'Challa's attention narrowed down to that one particular spot which Erik was now idly patting, as if deciding how hard to spank him. His backside felt unusually oversensitive and exposed. He wondered if Erik was going to make him cry.

T'Challa tensed up in anxiety. "How many?"

"Until I think it's enough."

T'Challa could hear the damnable smirk in Erik's voice, feel Erik's smug satisfaction at having T'Challa completely at his mercy reflected across their mental bond. Without warning, a sharp smack landed across T'Challa's ass.

The sound of skin slapping against skin rang out around the throne room. Despite himself, T'Challa let out a soft, embarrassing little whimper. Stinging pain spread out from the area which Erik had just spanked, an intimate, shameful kind of pain that had T'Challa squirming almost immediately on Erik's lap in a reflexive but futile effort to escape, despite his initial resolve to bear the punishment with stoic dignity.

Thankfully, the initial shock of pain faded rather quickly - Erik simply wasn't spanking him very hard. What followed the first strike was more like a series of light, open-handed smacks rather than any serious beating. The type of corrective discipline typically meted out to a misbehaving child or omega - embarrassing and uncomfortable, but not excruciatingly painful.

That was a relief, at least, although T'Challa wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. On their own, none of the smacks were particularly harsh, but cumulatively, it was really starting to hurt. All of those spanks really added up.

Erik was now concentrating on the round, sensitive curve of his ass, slapping it over and over as T'Challa gasped and whimpered. He began to squirm miserably again as Erik's hand moved further down, delivering sharp slaps close to the tops of his thighs. The heat in T'Challa's ass was quickly threatening to become unbearable. It felt as if Erik had begun exerting much more force, or maybe it was just the predictable consequence of being smacked over and over on his already thoroughly-spanked ass. Either way, the next few swats stung badly enough that T'Challa felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

"Ahh!" T'Challa jerked forward at the next smack, his cock grinding across the tops of Erik's thighs. His cry trailed off into a pained, high-pitched whine.

Erik's hand stilled against his backside. "Too much?"

There was a soft brush across the back of T'Challa's mind as Erik reached out across the bond, attempting to gauge T'Challa's emotional state.

T'Challa threw his dignity aside and tried to project as much pain and distress as he could across the mating bond. He had been punished enough. He wanted his alpha to have mercy on him, to comfort and soothe away the ache and tell him that all was forgiven. He was never going to disobey his alpha again. T'Challa let a small, sniffling hitch creep into his breath to really sell it.

It seemed to work. Erik's hand soothed over his ass, petting and rubbing him with gentle circles. T'Challa let out a slow exhale as the worst of the burning faded.

"Ten more and we're done," Erik said, not unkindly. "And keep your ass out, or I'll start smacking your thighs."

"Alpha," T'Challa protested weakly, aware that he was being whiny, but somehow still unable to stop himself.

Erik relented slightly. "I'll go easier on you. But it's over when I say it's over."

Only ten more, T'Challa told himself, taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth. It still took all of his resolve to offer up his sore ass for further discipline, but knowing that it was going to end soon made it slightly more bearable.

Erik ran his fingers lightly over his backside, which was all the warning T'Challa received before he was spanked again.

This time the strike landed with half the force of the previous spanks, more akin to a firm pat than a slap. It was followed up by a light, soothing caress, Erik's palm rubbing gently over the cheek he'd just spanked to take away the pain.

T'Challa inhaled sharply. To his horror, he could feel himself getting wet, his cock stirring with interest against Erik's thigh.

Oh no. NO.

If Erik found out that he was getting off on this, he would just die of shame. Mortified, T'Challa desperately tried to focus on anything other than the heat now pooling in his groin.

But to his dismay, Erik still continued to rub and stroke T'Challa's ass in between spanks, spanks which were now barely harder than firm pats. Aiming to minimize the sting so that he wouldn't cause too much pain to his omega, but which had the unfortunate side effect of seriously turning T'Challa on. The rubbing blunted the worst of the sting and spread it around, transforming it into a sort of warmth that was, truthfully speaking, quite pleasant.

If Erik had just finished off the spanking with ten quick, hard swats, T'Challa thought that he could have borne it with quiet dignity. But the cycle of pats interspersed with soothing rubs was unbearable. To be taken in hand so firmly - disciplined and comforted at the same time by his alpha - roused some sort of primal desire within T'Challa that he'd never felt before. His omega hindbrain purred happily, sighing in bliss at this show of strength and concern from his mate. Desire surged to the forefront of T'Challa's mind. He wanted to spread his legs for Erik, to whimper and moan for Erik, to be fucked senseless by Erik and bred full of cubs -

Bast. T'Challa trembled with barely suppressed desire, knowing that he wouldn't be able to control himself for much longer.

"Erik, please stop," T'Challa begged, twisting around in desperation to try and struggle free before Erik could discover how shamefully aroused he was. "Stop! Please!"

But Erik's arm was firmly pressed against his lower back, preventing any escape. He easily manhandled T’Challa back over his knees again, then pinned T’Challa’s arm behind his back for good measure, causing T’Challa to cry out.

"Seriously? I'm not even spanking you that hard. You still have five left," Erik said, his voice becoming stern. "Stop wriggling."

He emphasized the scolding with a slap that landed low against T'Challa's right cheek, one that was much more forceful than the preceding spanks. But he cupped his hand against the area right after, just holding and gently squeezing it until the pain faded.

T'Challa whimpered, a shudder running through his entire body at the mix of pain and spine-tingling pleasure as his alpha soothed the pain away. He was so wet right now that he was frankly surprised that Erik hadn't noticed. Silently, he prayed to Bast for strength, hoping that this would all be over soon. But no matter how hard he tried to turn his mind away, to distract his libido with thoughts of anything else, his mind kept being drawn back towards his current predicament with each fresh swat.

The force of the next blow caused him to jerk forward against Erik's thigh. T’Challa choked back a moan that was just barely disguised as a gasp. The feeling of the delicious friction from his cock grinding against T’Challa’s thigh brought him right to the brink of release.

He spread his legs a little wider, rocking back against Erik’s palm and raising his ass just in time for the next strike. It landed on the curve of his ass, hard enough to make it bounce, followed immediately by Erik's hand stroking and soothing over the sore spot.

The mix of pleasure mixed with the edge of pain was enough to send T'Challa over the edge. A wave of bliss rose within him, rose and crested until it shattered. T'Challa let out a high-pitched moan as he finally gave himself over to the thrills of pleasure running through his body, grinding down against the meat of Erik's thigh. The wet warmth which spread out from where his cock was trapped against Erik's thigh couldn't have been mistaken for anything else.

Surprised, Erik let go of his grip on T'Challa.

T'Challa immediately seized the chance to scramble off Erik's lap, putting as much distance as he could between them. His cheeks were burning with shame as he tried to shield the shameful evidence of his release with his hands.

Erik's dark eyes swept over him, lingering on the damming wet spot on the front of T'Challa's pants. A knowing smirk spread across his face.

T'Challa sniffled. If Erik made a snide remark right now, he would just die of shame. He cowered before Erik, too embarrassed to even look him in the eyes.

"Looks like that wasn't much of a punishment," Erik said, sounding amused.

T'Challa flinched. His bottom lip trembled, and a hot tear made its way down his cheek. He had never felt so mortified before in his life, pride completely shattered, standing before his alpha with his ass stinging and his pants sticky with slick and come.

"Come back here," Erik said.

He was too shaken to even consider disobeying Erik now. A heartbeat later, he found himself pulled over Erik's knees again, face down and ass up in his lap.

T'Challa yelped out loud in alarm, his cry trailing off to a high-pitched squeak of dismay as Erik hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants and underwear and began sliding them down. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he began to struggle in earnest. Even during the earlier punishment, Erik hadn't made him undress.

"Shh. Calm down," Erik said, smoothing his palm over T'Challa's bared skin. "I'm not mad. The spanking's over."

"Please," T'Challa begged, voice choked with tears. He wasn't even sure what he was begging for. For Erik to let him go, so that he could crawl into a hole and die of shame? Or for Erik to continue petting him, stroking his sore skin gently in a way that had his cock stirring with interest again?

Erik sighed. "If I just wanted to humiliate you, I'd have punished you in front of the council," he said. "Settle down. I just want to check if you're hurt."

Erik ran his palm over T’Challa’s ass, making him tremble. His hand felt wonderfully cool against T’Challa’s burning ass. Omegas usually had a higher body temperature than alphas, and the spanking earlier had really warmed his ass up.

"Mmm. I don't think you're going to bruise," Erik said. "Up."

Erik helped T'Challa to his feet, holding him steady as T'Challa quickly pulled up his pants to re-dress himself. He still couldn't stop sniffling. Erik hadn't even given him a hard time about it, but T'Challa still felt so humiliated that he wanted to die. He stood trembling before Erik, hating himself for his weakness, cursing his lack of control over his new omega body.  

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

T'Challa nodded shakily. “Yes,” he whispered.

Erik's smile widened. "You're gonna behave like a good little omega from now on?"

The domineering way Erik which it that caused a thrill of delight to run down T’Challa’s spine, even though his hackles instantly rose at the phrase “good little omega” . He pressed his lips together stubbornly, unable to bring himself to say yes or even to nod, even though he knew that being insubordinate right now would be a very bad idea.

Erik smirked. “Still stubborn as ever, I see. That’s okay. It just means I get to enjoy the pleasure of punishing you again in the future."

T'Challa ducked his head, feeling his cheeks grow hot again.

Erik laughed at the look on T'Challa's face. He reached out to brush his thumb against T’Challa’s cheek, wiping away some of his tears.

T’Challa blinked, taken aback by his surprisingly tender gesture.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll take you to the doctor,” Erik said.