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Black Panther and Storm
Of Monarchies and Democracies
San Francisco, X-Men Complex
"Ouch Hank that hurt," whined Ororo.
"Stop complaining and stay still," Hank reprimanded. "This would be a lot easier on the both of us if you took the pain killers I offered Ororo."
"You know what that type of medicine does to me and I can't afford to have that kind of side effect right now." Ororo looked down at her injury as Hank expertly stitched her up with an obvious frown on his face, covered marginally by his glasses.
"You need to rest Ororo and allow your body to heal. Too much movement or physical activity will open the sutures," Hank said, looking at her over his lenses.
"Don't look at me like that Hank. I'm perfectly capable of tending my own injuries, and don't think I didn't catch the tone in your voice when you said-physical activity."
Hank said nothing and continued his work on Ororo's side.
Annoyed by her friend's silent judgment Ororo asserted, "I do not appreciate the implication that I lack self control when it comes to," she paused a bit embarrassed, searching for an appropriate term or phrase, "certain relations with my husband."
Hank only shook his head and applied the final touches to Ororo's injury. Satisfied that he had done all he could to clean and close the nasty cut, Hank covered the wound with gauze to keep it clean and prevent infection. "When you return home, have your personal physician tend to the cut and," he looked at Ororo with a twinkle in his eyes, "I'm sure she will give you the same advice; no physical activity for 48 hours or you will risk re-opening the wound." He winked at her and said, "Do not be upset with me for stating the obvious."
Ororo couldn't help but blush, knowing the truth in his assessment even while she fought to deny it. "We aren't that bad Hank," she weakly countered. "We exercise plenty of self-control… when we have to." Hank gave her a disbelieving look and she laughed, realizing how stupid it sounded even to her own ears. Slumping back onto the bed Ororo admitted, "Lately, I feel as if I'm spending more time on missions with the X-Men than I am at home with my husband. He's very supportive and doesn't complain, but I can tell that at times it bothers him."
Ororo quickly jumped from the bed, suddenly remembering and frantically looked around the room. "What time is it Hank?" Not waiting for a reply, Ororo located her cell phone. "Hell, I'm going to be late. I promised him," she muttered repeatedly, as she pulled her shirt over her sports bra and injury. "Dammit Hank, he asks very little of me and when he does…" She trailed off frustrated and annoyed with herself.
"He will not be upset Ororo, you were injured and your lateness couldn't be helped," Hank said reassuringly.
"Perhaps, but he has every right to be. This isn't the first time and I promised him the last time I was late to a function that would be the last time." She paused and ran her hand through her hair, revealing upset eyes and confided softly, "That was three functions ago Hank, not including this one. I have to go and I'm pretty sure that 48 hours of no physical activity will not be a problem."
"Joe Biden, I would like to introduce you to King T'Challa of Wakanda," stated the president.
Shaking his hand, Vice President Biden said, "It's very nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about your generous donations to our campaign bid and want to take this opportunity to thank you and your wife for all of your support." He looked around the large room and asked, "Where is your charming wife King T'Challa? I would love to introduce her to my wife Jill."
"She's in San Francisco on business, but I'm sure she'll be here before the night is over," responded T'Challa more calmly than he felt.
"Barack be sure to flag me down when she gets here. My wife will be awfully jealous if she knew Michelle and the Queen of Wakanda were friends and she didn't get a chance to meet the famed Storm of the X-Men."
President Obama nodded to his second-in-command and turned to see T'Challa no longer at his side but walking through the patio doors. Obama caught up with his friend and said, "I'm sure she'll be here soon T'Challa."
T'Challa didn't answer but continued walking until he reached the patio, the president right behind him.
Taking in the king's irritated state Obama said, "Well I'm not one to give advice, especially when it comes to lateness, my wife God bless her, has put up with more late nights, missed events, and cold dinners since the campaign began. Hell, the last few years have been nothing but missed family opportunities," shrugged the president with more than a hint of regret in his voice. "I'm sure being king of a country has led to late nights and missed engagements on your part."
"Late nights yes, but missed functions no," corrected T'Challa. "I schedule the meetings and end them at my discretion. I am never late and only attend functions that are absolutely necessary or personal. In your case Barack, this function is both. You must understand," T'Challa continued, "Wakanda is very different from the United States. I don't have to waste millions of dollars to run a campaign-money that could be spent building schools and hospitals, or taking care of the elderly."
"Well, you make a good point," agreed Obama "but like you said, our countries are very different and there is no way a broke man or woman could ever become president here. That's the way the game is played and unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I play the game very well."
"Is running a country a game to you?" countered T'Challa.
"Running a country is only a game to the foolish or to the arrogant, but the race itself is indeed a game whether we want to admit it or not. If I could have leveled a campaign without the use of so much money I would have done, so but the reality overrides all good intentions, my friend."
"So, have you ever considered ending your monarchy and instituting a democracy?" queried Obama in a deliberately teasing tone.
"What makes your democracy so much better than my monarchy?" asked T'Challa, knowingly taking Obama's bait.
"Well for one, in a democracy the people have the power to choose their elected officials through the use of the ballot."
"Yes, and your people have shown time and time again that they will elect any fool with a smile and big war talk. For the life of me I don't understand how Americans elected an actor and George W. Bush twice."
"I can't explain that either, but that's the great thing about a democracy, if it's the people's will then it can happen. At least they were given the chance to choose even if at times they choose poorly. Your people have no choice at all T'Challa."
"They have a different kind of choice Barack. Any man or woman can become the leader of Wakanda, they only need to prove themselves and the annual competition to be Black Panther is free to all participants. As King of Wakanda, I have a council that represents all of the tribes that make up our great nation and their advice is invaluable to the running of our government. The ultimate decisions may rest with me, but it's the wise king who listens to the will of his people and the advice of his council. I serve my people Barack, they do not serve me."
"But you won't give them the ballot T'Challa, which is the ultimate choice and symbol of freedom."
"Americans can vote but not all do. Why? Americans vote but they didn't all vote for you, yet here you stand as their nation's ultimate decision maker, power broker, peace keeper, and war maker. Tell me Barack, do you only represent those Americans who voted for you or do you represent even those who wished to see McCain or anyone other than a Black man in the White House?"
"You know the answer to that T'Challa. I represent all Americans those who voted for me, those who didn't, and those too young or infirmed to vote for anyone. One person can't be expected to please everyone and should never try. Doing one's best with honesty and integrity is all we can do."
"Exactly," responded T'Challa.
Knowing the king had already made his point, Obama pushed and said, "You never answered my question."
"Do you wish to have the shortest presidency in the history of this nation?" countered T'Challa.
"You would make my wife a widow to avoid answering a simple question?" laughed Obama, enjoying poking fun at the Black Panther.
"You already know the answer to your question Barack, and I refuse to entertain your attempts at levity," smiled T'Challa "And you're not as charming as people think."
Obama laughed again and said, "Hey, my charming smile is one of the reasons why Michelle loves me, but for the life of me, I can't see what Ororo sees in you." Seeing T'Challa's raised eyebrows in response to his statement, Obama really laughed at his brooding friend who found no humor in the current president.
"I want my money back," stated T'Challa plainly.
"You heard me Mr. Barack Hussein Obama. I want my donation back. My wife convinced me you were the right man for the job at the right time and that America needed a change in direction. While my wife's opinions are worth their weight in gold, I can now see that she was mistaken about you. You are not charming nor are you funny, and I want my money back Mr. President," argued T'Challa mock-serious.
"Damn you're good T'Challa. I thought you were serious."
"I am serious Barack, and I don't take personal checks."
Obama glared at T'Challa for several long seconds before he caught the slightest of smiles from his lips. "You're funnier than people give you credit for, your highness, but I wouldn't take your show on the road, if I were you."
"Well, that'll teach you to bother a man about his country and wife," retorted T'Challa with a full grin on his face this time.
"I see Joe has found Ororo."
Obama turned around to see Ororo flanked by at least fifteen Congressmen and Joe leading the bunch with a huge smile on his face.
"How did you know she was here? I mean, you aren't even facing in that direction and she's at least fifty feet away."
"I heard her come in and I can smell her perfume-vanilla musk. She's wearing vanilla musk. It's one of my favorite scents on her. It's an olive branch, one she knows I will pick up on even at this distance."
"I bet you don't know what she is wearing," challenged Obama smugly.
"An ankle length black, sleeveless silk dress with a slit up her right thigh, low cut with a ruby necklace." He paused for a moment and said, "Her hair is up, revealing her long neck and shapely shoulders."
How in the hell…You are a strange man T'Challa," asserted an amazed Obama.
T'Challa turned to see his beautiful wife in the center of a horde of men stammering over themselves for her attention.
"Does this happen often?" asked Obama, a bit put out by the way his fellow democrats were fawning over another man's wife. A head of state for that matter.
"All the time," sighed T'Challa.
"Perhaps you should have married a less attractive woman" Obama stated playfully, trying to diffuse a possible international incident.
"You're still not funny Barack, and if it wasn't for your beautiful wife, God only knows what your children would look like."
"That's a low blow your highness, even from the Black Panther."
T'Challa turned away from the scene of adolescent men and proceeded to walk down the path towards the beach.
"Aren't you going to wait for your wife?" questioned a confused Obama.
"She will find me once she has politely but firmly deflated all of their egos and flirtatious smiles. It'll take her all of five minutes to do so and she will seek me out."
"How will she know where to find you T'Challa?" No answer.
"Where is T'Challa going?" asked Michelle as she wrapped her arms around her husband's waist.
"For a walk, I guess."
"Is he upset with Ororo for being late?"
"He is, but he's trying very hard not to be, which I assume is the reason he's walking down the beach by himself instead of rescuing his wife from Joe and the others," replied Obama.
"By the way, what in the hell is wrong with Joe and those guys anyway?" asked the annoyed president. "You should've seen the look in T'Challa's eyes when he saw them standing around his wife like a bunch of love struck teens."
Turning to face her husband completely Michelle contended, "Ororo is a very beautiful and strong woman, and powerful and wealthy men find that extremely attractive. Why do you think T'Challa married her? He understands Barack. He may not like it, but he understands."
Giving his wife his best presidential smile Obama whispered, "Well, I guess T'Challa and I have more in common than being Africans and the leaders of the most powerful nations on earth." Placing a soft kiss on his wife's lips Obama asserted, "You just described the two traits that drew me to you and what kept me coming back for more."
Ororo removed her heels as she tracked T'Challa's footprints in the sand. She found her husband standing in a gazebo staring out at the island's blue water. "It is truly beautiful here," Ororo quietly stated as she approached to stand next to her husband. T'Challa said nothing and continued to stare out into the distance. Ororo took an audible breath and said, "I'm sorry for being late again. I had every intention of meeting you at the hotel so we could come together but-
"Something came up," T'Challa asserted, cutting his wife off mid sentence.
"Yes, but I would not have gone if it wasn't extremely important," stated Ororo in a guilty tone.
"Every mission is extremely important Ororo, so why bother explaining your lateness when it will only happen again."
T'Challa was frustrated and angry with himself and Ororo. He knew better than to expect Ororo to be a traditional Wakandan wife, but he didn't anticipate how difficult it would be for him to handle days even weeks without seeing her or spending quality time together. He was upset with himself for not being able to fully accept her independence and upset with her seeming nonchalant attitude about their all too frequent separations.
"Look Ororo, I don't want to bicker with you about this. I haven't seen you in three weeks and I was looking forward to this break in our schedules. I didn't realize how much I was looking forward to spending time with you until you were late," confessed T'Challa, as he gently reached for his wife's hand.
"I hate this feeling and I can't seem to rid myself of it."
"What feeling?" asked a solemn Ororo.
"The feeling that we'll become so engrossed in our own missions and responsibilities that we'll grow apart," admitted T'Challa. "I don't want that to happen, but lately I feel just that."
Tears of realization fell from Ororo's eyes and she reached to wipe them away but T'Challa reached them first. He kissed her salty tears away and said, "Please don't cry beloved, that's the last thing I want."
Ororo pulled T'Challa close and placed her head in the crook of his neck and whispered, "We will not grow apart T'Challa, we love each other too much to allow such a thing to ever happen. I'm truly sorry, I never meant to hurt or worry you."
T'Challa returned the embrace with all the love he had for his wife and kept quiet giving her time to speak from her heart as he'd just done. "I feel guilty about what happened to the X-Men while I was away. I know that my presence would've made little difference in the outcome, but I still have this gnawing guilt, so I find it hard to refuse them when they call for my assistance," admitted Ororo.
"You can only do so much dear; you're just one person, no matter how powerful you may be."
Still clinging to her husband for strength, Ororo nodded her head. "I know, but I can't continue this way. I'm going to have to make tough choices and not everyone will be happy."
"You can't expect to make everyone happy all of the time beloved, not even me," replied T'Challa, reassuringly. "I love you Ororo, that'll never change no matter how many functions you miss or how often you're late, or how annoyed I may become. You're my wife, and I'll always forgive you…after a fashion," smiled T'Challa.
"After a fashion?" Ororo repeated, as she lifted her head to look her husband in the eyes.
"Yes, I believe full reparations are in order for leaving the King of Wakanda stranded in a Hawaiian hotel without an escort to the biggest presidential election party this island has ever seen."
"What kind of reparations?" inquired Ororo playfully.
Returning her playful tone T'Challa said, "You're a smart woman, I'm sure you will figure something out."
Enjoying her husband's sudden mood change, Ororo leaned in close and placed several soft kisses along T'Challa's neck. She worked her way up to his earlobe which she gently tugged into her mouth and sucked ever so gently. She ran her left hand up the nape of his neck and massaged the sensitive area with her nails as she took possession of T'Challa's mouth in a sensual kiss. Ororo expertly maneuvered her tongue inside his mouth which granted her the moan of pleasure from him she was seeking. Ororo continued to kiss her husband long and hard, taking his tongue in her mouth and pushing her now very aroused body against his.
T'Challa responded immediately to his wife's advances, surprised at how a few well placed kisses could make him forget he was upset with her just ten minutes earlier. T'Challa reached for Ororo's bun and pulled her hair roughly from its confines in order to sink his fingers into her silky tresses. He ran his hands all over her body, delighting in the feel of her curves under the silk dress. His right hand ran down her side and he pulled away slightly. Breathless he asked, "What is this?"
Heart pounding with unfulfilled desire, Ororo paused for a second to take in T'Challa's question. He gently tapped her side and asked again, "What is this?"
"It's nothing dear, just a scratch," responded Ororo calmly, in an attempt to divert her husband's attention away from her injury and back to more important regions of her body.
"Did Hank tend to your injury, or did you do it yourself?"
Knowing where this line of questioning was going Ororo admitted that Hank had indeed taken care of her which, for T'Challa, was the same as telling him her injury was more serious than she'd led on.
"Is this the reason why you were late?" asked T'Challa, already knowing the answer. Ororo nodded in confirmation. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"
"Because, it isn't a big deal and I knew you would worry needlessly."
"Being hurt is a big deal Ororo, and you can't run around acting as if you're invincible."
"Yeah, well I wonder where I get that from?" countered Ororo.
T'Challa threw his hands up in defeat and said, "What is it about this island, everyone thinks they're a comedian?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about dear, but I assure you I'm perfectly fine. Hank sewed me up and I flew the plane here in order to avoid overexerting myself."
Ororo pulled T'Challa to her again and said in a sultry voice, "I've been a very good girl and followed doctor's orders up till this point, but there's one order I was hoping you would help me break-my fast."
T'Challa understood without explanation and crushed Ororo's lips to his in an effort to end their fast as soon as possible. Ororo created a fog that covered the entire gazebo as they fell to the wooden floor, legs and arms entwined. Grateful that T'Challa wasn't wearing his panther habit, Ororo quickly undid his belt, button, and zipper.
"Impatient aren't you dear?" quipped T'Challa playfully as he ran his hand up her right thigh, seeking to remove the one garment that stood between him and three weeks of unsolicited abstinence. T'Challa's hands moved teasingly over Ororo's center and she left out a soft moan of approval. T'Challa traced small circles as he played with her, eliciting more sighs of pleasure and intense demanding movements against his hand from her hips. The more Ororo demanded his touch, the more T'Challa withdrew.
"Don't be so impatient," chided T'Challa gently, in response to Ororo's frustrated cries. T'Challa reduced the pressure on Ororo's clitoris and teasingly slid his tongue over her hardened nipples, leaving a wet spot on her silk dress where his mouth had been. Ororo arched into his mouth desperately needing to feel more of him, but he withdrew once again. Ororo moaned loudly in frustration and need sighing, "Please don't stop."
"I waited for you dear for two hours at the hotel. I waited to do this," T'Challa said as he started to pleasure his wife again with his fingers, taking her long, pulsating neck between his teeth and ever so torturously biting into her sweet mocha skin. Ororo desperately grabbed at her husband, demanding an end to the pleasurable torture that was vibrating through every molecule of her body.
"Oh god please T'Challa," Ororo sighed, frustrated with her husband's game and refusal to give her the release her body demanded, craved.
T'Challa pushed into her again with his fingers only to remove them when she thrust against him, seeking harder contact. T'Challa smiled at her frustrated moans as he settled over top of her. "Do you want me Ororo?" he asked in a teasing but very aroused voice, while resuming the pressure she so desperately sought.
"Yes, yes T'Challa," Ororo moaned loudly as his thumb massaged her clitoris vigorously. "Tell me what you want me to do dear," T'Challa whispered with a false control that belied his own raging desire, as he grazed his teeth over her nipples to emphasize his question.
Barely able to speak from T'Challa's ruthless and delicious ministrations Ororo gasped, "I…I want you to take me fully…be one with meeee."
Her words were lost in her throat as T'Challa fulfilled her request over and over and over.
"Oh god Ororo you feel so damn good," breathed T'Challa hoarsely, as his wife showed him exactly how much she missed him and how accurate Hank's assessment truly was as the fog captured the sounds of pent up desire being released into the Hawaiian air.
Breathless, the couple lay on the gazebo floor staring up at the stars. "That wasn't very nice what you did to me," Ororo said as she lay curled in her husband's arms, still basking in the afterglow of their impromptu lovemaking. "I thought you forgave me."
"I did," countered T'Challa, "after a fashion," he said smiling.
"I'm going to make you pay for that," Ororo threatened as she rolled over on top of him.
"From that position dear, you can do whatever you want to me."
Ororo smiled and leaned down into a moist kiss. T'Challa wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down closer to his chest. She shifted her weight, putting her directly in the spot she was seeking.
"Oh god, right there baby," T'Challa moaned as Ororo sought to take her revenge very, very slowly.
"This is chopper one to chopper two, I have the building in sight and am awaiting your orders sir."
T'Challa and Ororo sat up suddenly both having detected the two helicopters, one by sound the other by movement in the wind. They quickly pulled their clothes on when T'Challa sensed movement from the ocean.
"You take care of the air assault and I will handle the ground assault," suggested T'Challa. They briefly embraced, said a short prayer to their respective gods and set off in different directions.
TO BE CONCLUDED