just one hit (I know I'll never, ever be the same)

Regular as clockwork, once every six months, Erik's damnable omega body would inevitably begin making preparations for him to be bred full of cubs that he adamantly did not want. 

The physical changes he could deal with. Most of them were annoying, but largely bearable.

The widening of his hips was the best part. Easy enough to deal with by buying pants an extra size up, and he loved the way his ass filled out, becoming even more firm, round and perky. 

The production of slick - slick that stained and ruined his favourite underwear - was slightly more troublesome, but all it entailed was doing an extra load of laundry in the days leading up to his heat. (Triumph had recently begun making slick-proof underwear especially for omegas, but they were all dainty, feminine little lacey panties that Erik wouldn't be caught dead wearing.) 

The production of pheromones - pheromones that turned the head of every unbonded alpha in his vicinity - was definitely worse. MIT had very strict rules against sexual harassment, but that still didn't stop most alphas from staring at him. (After all, it wasn't against the rules to look.) 

But worst of all was the hormone-fuelled urge to seek out an unbonded alpha and beg to be fucked. Worse than that, to beg for his alpha's care, comfort and protection. 

Even the fun of heat sex couldn't make up for the emotional vulnerability that came with his heats. Being an omega was just the worst. 

Thank God for heat dating apps.

Erik could spend each of his heats - his most humiliatingly vulnerable moments - with a different stranger each time, and then never, ever see them again. 

Erik wrote an email to his academic adviser to request the next three days off on heat leave, and then opened up his OACupid app and reactivated his profile.  

Erik's profile picture was a slightly out of focus photo of himself with sunglasses on. Probably recognizable to anyone who already knew him in person, but hopefully anonymous enough to give him plausible deniability if pressed.  

Holding in a breath, Erik selected the dropdown status of Imminent Heat and braced himself for the forthcoming deluge. 

Sure enough, the notifications came flooding in almost immediately.     

Erik rolled his eyes. He could afford to be picky. 

Out of principle, he deleted every message containing unsolicited dick pics, every message containing cringey misspellings and/or grammar mistakes, every message that was insufferably desperate, every message that was just outright bizarre, and every message that wasn't from a black man. 

That left him with a grand total of just three private messages. Much more manageable. 

Erik turned off the notifications that were blowing up his phone and began to read his messages. 

The first message was from Chad Man, who offered, in very explicit, grammatically correct detail, to "wreck [Erik's] twink ass."

Erik grimaced. 

The second message was from Mike B, who said, "I can fuck you?"

But Mike B looked awfully baby-faced in his headshot, and his opening message just didn't sound dominant enough. Not Erik's type at all. 

The third message was from Black Panther, who simply said, "Hi." 

Erik was torn.

Black Panther seemed pretty dull, but he'd rather die of sexual frustration than hook up with an alpha who thought that it was a good idea to call himself Chad Man, regardless of how thoroughly he promised to fuck Erik and how good his grammar was. 

Black Panther it was, then. 

He clicked through to Black Panther's profile, not feeling particularly hopeful. 

Black Panther's profile picture didn't show his face, only an artsy shot of the back of his body against the setting sun. But he had a really nice muscled figure, and his screen name tickled Erik's fancy. It reminded him of his life goal - taking the Wakandan throne and the mantle of Black Panther from his nemesis.

This alpha would do.     

E Seven: hey

Black Panther: Hello E7! Thanks for replying. 

E Seven: need heat fuck, JUST FUCK ONLY no strings attached. in heat starting tmr. normally abt 2 full days / 3 days 2 nights. u down? 

Black Panther: Sure. That sounds perfect. 

Black Panther: I'm accompanying my father on a work trip. He has been in closed-door meetings throughout and I have nothing much to do. I'll definitely be available to see you through your heat for the next three days. 

E Seven: kk. dont need ur life story man just need ur dick.

E Seven: meet where? hotel or motel only. aint gonna visit a strange alphas house

E Seven: and ur paying. im broke

Black Panther: That won't be a problem. As an alpha, I should provide for you. Will the Ritz Carlton be convenient for you? 

Erik's eyes widened. His inner omega squealed in delight. 

The Ritz Carlton was a much fancier hotel than Erik had been expecting. A swanky five-star hotel in the city centre, and less than an hour away from MIT too. It was a far cry from the shitty highway motels where Erik had spent his previous heats. 

Erik had finally managed to land a wealthy alpha! A good alpha who had shown that he could provide bountifully for him and for their many cubs - 

Erik shook the thought off. That was just his heat talking.     

Erik's inner omega cooed happily at the endearment, and wriggled in delight at the thought of spending his heat with a hot, rich alpha in a top-floor presidential suite. 

Black Panther was typing again. Erik leaned forward eagerly.     

Ohh.

Black Panther was so considerate. Nothing like the other alphas with whom he had spent his previous heats - those guys had just wanted to fuck.

But Black Panther was so caring! So good to him! Erik definitely had to bond this prize alpha immediately - 

NO. Erik shut down that hormone-addled train of thought.     

Erik paused and considered his messages.

Then he sent three more knife emojis.    

Ohh.

Black Panther was so, so sweet and comforting!

He was just perfect. 

Erik couldn't wait to meet his alpha.  

His Uber driver, an elderly beta woman with streaked green hair, had taken one look at Erik's sweat-slick face as he was getting into her car and snorted.

"You're really pushing it," she had said. "Even I can smell you from here."

Erik gritted his teeth. He hated being out in public and interacting with strangers so close to his heat. All he wanted to do was hole up and hide somewhere safe. Somewhere safe and alone with his alpha. 

Erik groaned and slumped down in his seat. "Just stop talking and drive faster," he mumbled. "I feel like shit. 'M burning up. Need my alpha."

Erik couldn't really afford the Uber, but he was already in the initial throes of heat and it would be suicidal to take public transport at this stage. He wouldn't put it past any unbonded alpha to take him on the spot. 

Erik had to see Black Panther now, damn it. 

"Aww, honey. Take deep breaths," his driver advised. She helpfully turned up the air conditioning for Erik, but the blasts of cool air provided little relief.

His body demanded an alpha's hormones, an alpha's knot. 

"I'm gonna die," Erik whined. "Hurry up."

"I'm going as fast as I can," his driver said. "Morning traffic, you know how it is. How come you didn't book your ride earlier, huh?" 

"I was gonna meet him at eight! How was I supposed to know it would start so early? You know these things aren't that predictable! It's never come so early before!" Erik fought down the illogical urge to burst into tears, but he couldn't stop his eyes from getting wet. 

Fucking mood swings. Fucking omega hormones. 

"There, there, honey, don't cry," his driver said sympathetically. "I wasn't scolding you! Look, I'll get you there as fast as I can. Poor baby."

At any other time, Erik would have bristled at being soothed like a fussy child. But at this stage of his heat, all he could do was wish that Black Panther was here to comfort him instead. 

Erik was so highly strung that he didn't even have the presence of mind to appreciate his lush, opulent surroundings. All he could think of was his burning, desperate need for his alpha. 

Erik's heat hadn't even properly started yet. This was just the initial throes of hot flashes - he hadn't even begun slicking. He had never felt this bad at the first stage before. But then again, in Erik's previous heats, there had always been an unbonded alpha around to help him through this initial stage. 

Damn it. Why had his heat started so early this time? It was completely unprecedented. 

Fuck.

He shouldn't have worked himself up by thinking so much about Black Panther yesterday. He must have jump-started the process or something. 

Erik checked his reflection in the large mirror in the lift, preening for his alpha. 

He looked like a mess. Face flushed with a dark red undertone, sweaty dreadlocks flopping against his face - Erik hadn't even had time to fix his appearance properly today. The minute that he had felt that first hot flash, he had panicked and booked the Uber to the Ritz.

Now he looked terrible.

Black Panther wasn't going to like him. He wasn't going to be able to please his alpha. 

Erik felt like crying again. 

YOU LOOK FINE, he mentally shouted at himself, summoning up the last shreds of his lucidity. Stop panicking! It's just the stupid heat. No alpha cares what you look like as long as you're in heat. No alpha cares about you as long as they have a heat-slick hole to fuck. 

It was a depressing, but slightly comforting thought. 

Finally, finally, the lift door opened, and Erik stepped out towards the presidential suite, ready to meet his alpha. 

He knocked on the door of Black Panther's suite.

Erik was quite early. He hoped that Black Panther wouldn't be too angry about that - 

- (the logical part of Erik told himself that there was no way that any alpha would be angry about getting to fuck an omega in heat earlier than expected) - 

- but the emotional, instinctive part of Erik just wanted to get on his knees right now and beg for his alpha's forgiveness. 

NO. He wasn't that far gone yet, damn it. 

The door swung open. 

Erik jerked his head up, and looked right into the face of his arch nemesis. 

Black Panther... was T'Challa?! 

T'Challa. His cousin. The man whom he had been planning to kill for the past ten years. 

Erik had never seen T'Challa in person, but he had done more than enough research on T'Challa - obsessively reading any relevant articles and news clippings that he could dig up - to know very well what T'Challa looked like. 

No. 

No fucking way. 

It wasn't possible. T'Challa was supposed to be in Wakanda, not America. Not fucking Boston. 

This was - this had to be someone who just, coincidentally, happened to resemble T'Challa a little bit. 

Okay, an awful lot. 

NO.

The universe couldn't possibly be this cruel to him.

It wasn't fucking fair.

No. Black Panther couldn't possibly be T'Challa. He definitely had to be some stranger, yes, that had to be it - 

Then T'Challa opened his mouth, and Erik's last hope died in his heart. 

"E? You're early," T'Challa said in an authoritative, accented voice that made Erik's knees go weak. "My name is T'Challa. Come on in."