#blackpantherfanfic

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"The Offering Part 3 (Finale)" Preview

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“I know he loves me I know he cares Cause he's all mine And soon he'll be knockin' At my door Things will be alright”

Juicy – “Sugar Free”

Lebadi slid the fingers of her right hand over the monorail console while watching a monitor to gauge the flow of traffic in the wide Birnin S’Yan street. Her left hand rubbed on the swollen belly that was ready to pop with a strange mutant’s baby.

“Everything good?”

Lebadi turned her head and watched a lanky, reed-thin male co-worker saunter in to take over her shift. Mantso quirked up his thick lips and handed her a warm chocolate coffee along with a hot-out-of-the-oven seasoned meat bun. She accepted both and shifted her weight out of the chair so he could take over.

“Slow night. Thank you for this,” she said.

Taking a huge bite out of the round bun stuffed with ground beef and yellow potatoes baked inside, she wiped her lips when the flavorful juices spewed out onto her chin. Mantso studied her belly.

“You are ready to burst,” he teased.

“One more month.”

“When does your leave start?”

“Next week.”

A rumble outside the wide glass window announced the arrival of the midnight lift in the city center.

“I’ll hold it for you,” Mantso said.

Lebadi grabbed her sweater and waddled out of the control room taking an escalator to the surface street. Saturday nights were a busy festive time and she passed through crowds of young people out for a night of dancing and drinking. She missed doing that with her friends back home in Birnin Zana. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, she’d be attending Dora Milaje training with Okoye and going out with her crew to their favorite clubs and night cafes.

Chewing on the tender meat of the late night snack Mantso gave her, she gripped her cup of cocoa-rich coffee and sat by herself on the monorail. It was a short fifteen minute ride to her cottage nestled behind a row of luxury villas. She jostled her big belly around exuberant party-seekers and munched on her food while admiring the bright lights and music spilling out onto the public sidewalks from flashy clubs. Ten minutes later she rounded a corner that led to the opening of a quiet suburban street twinkling with tiny nightlights decorating the clipped hedges lining the path she followed. Tall rust-colored trees blotted out the noise of the main street behind her.

Approaching her home, she noticed a figure hidden in the shadows of her small porch.

“Who’s there?” she blurted.

No one answered and she took a step back, cradling her stomach in a protective stance.

“I see you!” she shouted to make herself sound tough.

The figure moved toward the light of a street lamp and Lebadi sucked in her breath.

Okoye.

“It took me some time to track you down here,” Okoye said, eyeing Lebadi’s burgeoning midsection, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

Lebadi's entire demeanor slumped with shame.

“I’m your best friend, Lebadi. You can tell me anything in confidence and I would never judge you.”

“I know…but…”

“But what? Who is the father?”

“No one you know.”

“Are you still seeing this person? Are they going to support you and this baby?”

“No…I’m not seeing them anymore. This wasn’t planned.”

“I know it wasn’t. You were supposed to be training with me.”

Okoye’s eyes softened. Lebadi glanced at the new shaved head that highlighted the perfectly round skull of her friend. A brand new v-shaped crimson tattoo crowned the top of Okoye’s forehead. She had passed the first level of Dora Milaje training.

“Open your door. The neighbors should not hear our conversation,” Okoye demanded.

Lebadi shuffled past her and onto the porch. She swiped her kimoyo beads over the door handle and stepped aside to let Okoye in first. The motion sensor lights in the living room flickered on and she hung up her sweater on the back of the door. Setting down her coffee and half-eaten meat bun on a side table, she faced her bestie full on.

“Sit,” Lebadi said gesturing to a chair near the couch.

Okoye glanced around the neat cottage living room before sinking down into the chair.

“I have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

Lebadi excused herself and went into a small hallway that led to the cramped bathroom. She closed the door and gripped her hands on the sink. She wasn’t prepared to let anyone know her secret. For the past four months she had hidden in Birnin S’Yan where no one knew her or her family. She kept her interactions among family and friends purely through vid chats at low angles to conceal her stomach. She joked about eating too many meat buns that the city was famous for to explain away her plump cheeks and wide moon face. Stories were made up about being busy with work and taking advanced art classes at the University of S’Yan that rested above the cliffs overlooking the sea. Many questioned why she’d move so far away, but most assumed it was because she was disappointed about not being accepted into the Dora Milaje Corps. She let that lie fester to dampen the pleadings of returning to the Golden City.

Lebadi needed to give birth in a place where she was a stranger, and the fast pace of seaside life was the perfect hideaway. She hired a private midwife and planned to give birth at home. Beyond that she had no further plans. It all depended on what came out of her vagina in thirty days. If the child looked human, she’d give it away to the midwife to find a good home. She used a fake name in the city and no one would be able to trace a baby back to her. However, if the child came out a mutant…

She shook away the thought with splashes of cool water on her high cheekbones. Okoye would ruin all of her plans. Wiping her face with a towel, Lebadi stared at her frightened eyes in the mirror. She had saved up enough money to pay a bribe to the midwife to keep the birth off of the formal hospital registry. The only problem was that she couldn’t decide what to do with a child if it came out like him.

K’uk’ulkan.

Lebadi shivered at the mere thought of him and the baby inside of her moved. She touched the spot where it kicked her. The child was strong in there. So ready to come out.

“Lebadi, are you hiding from me?”

Okoye’s voice sounded more hurt than accusatory.

“Coming,” Lebadi chirped.

Okoye studied her every move coming back into the living room. Lebadi took a seat on her lumpy couch adjacent to the chair and finally gazed into her friend’s eyes. They were watery and her lips trembled.

“I was worried about you. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt like something was wrong. I needed to see you in person and ease my mind,” Okoye said.

“Now you see why I stayed so far from home.”

“Having a baby out of wedlock is not shameful anymore.”

“The father and I are not together. He doesn’t know about this baby.”

“He has a responsibility. You are from a prominent family—”

“No one will know about this child. When it is born I will give it away.”

“Give it away? Are you mad? You are descended from the first family that stood by the Udaku clan when Bashenga created the nation. You have grandmothers and grandfather’s written about in our history books…you cannot just give a baby away with your bloodline, Lebadi. It would be sacrilegious! A sin in the eyes of Bast.”

“I cannot keep this baby, Okoye.”

“Why not?”

“Because its father is a foreigner. Not a Wakandan.”

“Foreigner? How?”

“He slipped through our borders.”

“No one slips through our borders. Do not lie to me, Lebadi. I am your friend.”

“I met him at the Mama Wati Festival. Two years ago. I fell pregnant eight months ago. We were secretly meeting here in Birnin S’Yan. You cannot tell anyone.”

“This is a national security threat. I cannot sit here and ignore that. I work for the palace now. This man could be a spy using you.”

“He is not a spy. There’s nothing in Wakanda he wants… not anymore since he left me. I am begging you Okoye. Nothing will happen to the nation if you keep quiet about this. I am no longer seeing him. He is long gone away from here.”

“How was he able to even get through our protective dome from the outside? Lebadi? Answer me!”

Lebadi burst into tears and covered her face. To not have her lover pained her heart. She struggled to regain her composure and became frantic when Okoye tapped her kimoyo beads. A sharp discomfort in her side distracted them both and Lebadi clutched under her stomach and sat back in her seat.

“Lebadi, what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay…you are stressing me out and it disturbed the baby.”

“Should I call your doctor? Uh..the midwife?”

“No…I am fine now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please…just leave this be. Keep my secret.”

“You cannot give your baby away. If you need help, W’Kabi and I can do that. We’re getting married next year…we could adopt your child and keep it close to you—“

“No.”

“How far along are you?”

“Eight months.”

Okoye palmed her hands together and let the tips of her fingers rest under her chin.

“You have been dealing with this all alone?”

“Yes.”

Okoye lowered herself to her knees and clasped Lebadi’s hands.

“I see that you’re frightened. I will keep your secret, but I will return to help you when the baby comes. We’ll figure out what to do together. Your child deserves a good home…with you.”

Okoye thumbed away the tears that pearled out from the corners of Lebadi’s eyes.

“Do you need anything right now? Money? Food?” Okoye asked.

“No. I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

“I will stay for the weekend and return for my training. No more keeping secrets from me. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Lebadi squeezed Okoye’s hands.

###

The moment Okoye left the cottage Sunday evening, Lebadi packed up all her clothes and called a private cab to ferry her to the marina. She tossed her kimoyo beads in a sewer run-off after telling her mid-wife that she was going home and would no longer need her services.

Lebadi knew Okoye had a good heart and wanted the best for her, but the reality spoke of newer alliances. She couldn’t trust that her friend wouldn’t go searching for breeches in security and ring the alarm. It was better to go away and give birth alone on the sea away from prying eyes. Telling her that the father was foreign was bad enough. It was a stupid mistake on her part.

She rented the same boat she had used for two years sneaking away to see Namor. It was an older model that most people bypassed for the sleek newer ones all over the marina. She paid for a three month rental and the woman releasing it didn’t bat an eye at her condition or the crinkly bills she paid in cash from a fat purse stuffed with more Wakandan money. It took Lebadi four trips to load the boat with supplies of food, water, and things she would need for a baby. The last item she carried on board was a peach and sand-colored conch shell that Namor gifted her. She wanted something of his with her.

She set sail on a Monday evening to cloak herself in darkness, taking the boat off radar once she was past her target area to hide from any drone surveillance.

She programmed the boat to glide her to her favorite spot three miles from the coast. For three days she used radar from the boat and her own binoculars to scan for anyone coming after her. She left a month’s worth of pre-programmed holo vid messages for family and select friends to keep up appearances until the baby came. Using the boat ramp, she dipped her heavy body into the water when the weather was too hot and spent most of her days lying in her berth to keep cool. She limited the use of the air-cooling system to keep traces of vibranium energy surges to a minimum in case it captured the attention of the Wakandan Coast Guard.

A pod of dolphins passed by her boat her second week out at sea and they lingered to frolic for a few hours before heading out to the growing swells. Shading her eyes with her hand, she pondered moving the boat when it was bumped by something that didn’t feel like a strong wave shoving the starboard side. She tottered on bare feet to investigate if she hit a reef and was shocked to find a large orca nudging the hull with its massive head.

Lebadi held onto some rope looped around the inside of the hull to keep her balance. The orca opened its mouth and echolocation clicks bounced at her along with high-pitched whistling sounds. It snapped its mouth closed a few times making jaw claps and she ran to the control room to move the boat away from the sea creature. At a smooth twenty knots, she left the orca in a wake of white water, but it gave chase. She aimed the boat back toward land but the orca kept up and then cut her off, forcing her to head further out to sea. She white-knuckled the control console when the orca slammed itself under the boat.

Cutting her eyes to the ocean, the boat stuttered to a complete stop. The odor of something burning came from the stern. She shut everything down and checked the back. The boat belched blue-black smoke and the orca peered at her from the water with a menacing brown eye under a patch of white marking on its slippery skin.

“What the fuck did you do to this boat?”

The orca clicked and rolled its dark body upside down in the foamy turquoise waters. Before she could curse it again, it flicked its wide tail and tossed Namora onto the deck. Soaking wet, the Talokanil woman stood to her full height and sea water dripped from her feathered headdress and the jagged spear she carried. Lebadi turned away trying to hide her stomach, but Namor’s cousin spotted the forbidden fruit of their union. She stuck the tip of her spear against Lebadi’s stomach.

“Ba'ax le ts'íiba' utia'al?” Namora spat out from behind her breathing mask.

Lebadi nodded and stepped back from the spear. Namora lunged forward raising her spear at an angle that would slice the child out of her womb.

“Don’t! Please!” Lebadi shrieked.

The harsh rays of the sun and the muggy heat draped Lebadi in an uncomfortable cocoon of dripping perspiration. Short of breath, and frightened, she urinated on herself and lost control of her knees. Namora tossed away her spear and caught Lebadi with her strong but gentle hands. Her piercing dark brown eyes were the same as Namor’s.

“Yaan teen,” Namora whispered in Lebadi’s ear.

“Please don’t kill my baby,” Lebadi pleaded  before the world went black and she collapsed in the Talokanil’s arms.

A.N.:

The entire Part 3 will finally be out next week! Hit me up if you want to be tagged!

Tag List:

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@daddyslittlevillain

@kathanibennett

@namorslit

@skiedrr

@bontensbabygirl

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@saltiestblkgirlofall

@artaxerxesthegreat

@fadingbelieverexpert

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#namor fanfiction #namor smut #Namor #wakanda forever #blackpantherfanfic #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #k'uk'ulkan

[adahjones]

Any more Erik or T’Challa smut ? 👀

#i want it #erik killmonger #tchalla #blackpantherfanfic

[imreadyfortchalla2018]

My first Black Panther/T'Challa fanfic ! Please support !

#Shameless Foreigner #blackpantherfanfic

[space-god676]

M'baku: he said bury him in the ocean.

T'challa: but why would you throw his corpse off the boat!?

#blackpantherfanfic #m'baku #t'challa #SPACEGOD

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Forty-Seven G [Part 1 of 3]

"U r flying aboard the Seduction 747 And this plane is fully equipped with anything your body desires

If 4 any reason there is a loss in cabin pressure I will automatically drop down 2 apply more

2 activate the flow of excitement Extinguish all clothing materials and pull my body close 2 yours Place my lips over your mouth and kiss, kiss

Normally, in the event there is overexcitement Your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device…"

Prince – "International Lover"

Summary:  Erik Killmonger takes a break from M.I.T. to fly to a friend's wedding and gives a flight attendant working on her birthday a lovely gift. Mature Content. Basically, smut y’all. Enjoy.  

Fa'aana Brown greeted each passenger on board the Boeing 777 with a practiced charm and a wide smile of her pearly whites. She had stepped in for the lead flight attendant, Lucy, who had to take care of a surly passenger who insisted that his first-class accommodations were not to his liking because he wanted a window seat instead of the aisle seat he had already paid for.

Thankfully their international flight to the Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport wasn't crowded. It was the offseason in Rome, so many of the flight attendants would be able to rest on this leg of their trip. Fa'aana would be in charge of the galley in the rear section of the plane, and when she glanced at her watch, she saw they would actually leave the gate relatively early by the looks of the dwindling number of passengers coming down the ramp.

"Whew, problem solved, our Mr. Clayton has been satisfied," Lucy said, tucking a loose strand of her chemically-treated blonde hair behind her ear.

"Did you move him?"

"No, just set him up with some bourbon and cookies. He just wanted to be catered to." "I bet it was that southern accent of yours too."

Lucy smirked.

"A Charleston, South Carolina belle here at your service Mr. Clayton," Lucy said in a breathy voice and batting her false eye-lashes.

"Work it, honey," Fa'aana said handing the speakerphone to Lucy so she could make final announcements before take-off.

"See ya later," Lucy said as Fa'aana made her final cabin check from the mid-section to the back, closing overhead bins and assisting passengers with bags that didn't fit under their seats.

Her temporary work husband Mark, a soft-spoken flight attendant from Spain, was in the galley filling up their snack carts and checking supplies for the ten-hour flight.

"Looks like a cake-walk," Mark said glancing out and peeping the less than full cabin.

Fa'aana checked the pre-heat timer of the convection oven as it waited to be used for the in-flight meal of penne pasta and meatballs.

"Let's hope so. Lucy put out a little fire with a man in first class. Other than that, we are looking good," she said.

Fa'aana did a final check to make sure things were secure before take-off in the galley when she noticed a last-minute passenger making his way toward the back.

Something about his swagger down the left side of the aisle made her know he was American. He was Black and a part of her always got excited when she saw Black people on international flights. So many of her friends back in Atlanta complained about working so hard and not being able to afford overseas travel. Staycations were the theme in her clique, so seeing another Black person going out of the country was exciting for her. It was part of the reason why she became a flight attendant, even though her workload didn't really allow that dream of fun/leisure world travel to come to fruition as much over the past two years. She did her best to encourage others to get out of America. She even wrote a little travel blog that got quite a few hits. She aimed her tips toward single Black women trying to make the globe-trotting lifestyle worth their time and coins.

Round black sunglasses, form-fitting black woven Nike tracksuit, and expensive track kicks. Nice dark mustache, a soul patch, and a light scruffy beard. Fresh cornrows with intricate braid patterns decorated the top of his head, with the sides shaved low. His head bent down to check his ticket and when he found his seat, he opened the overhead bin to toss in a small duffle bag. He pulled a small black computer bag from his back and sat down, tucking the bag under the seat in front of him.

Fa'aana walked down to his seat when she noticed that the straps to his duffle bag were sticking out from under the overhead bin. She opened the bin and tucked in his straps. When she glanced down, his dark lenses were looking up at her and she saw his lips. Up close.

Lord have mercy.

His lips were so lush and full. And his braids smelled so good, fresh coconut oil…

"Thanks, Ma," he said.

"Welcome aboard," she said.

He took off his dark glasses and stared at her chest. She was about to feel offended but then he glanced back up at her face.

"Is that a Polynesian name?" he asked. She realized he was looking at her name tag.

He had a regional accent she was trying to place.

"Yes, it is. Samoan."

"You Samoan?"

"My father is half. Other half Black. Mother Black too."

She thought she looked obviously Black. She was darker than he was by a shade and her hair texture was thick like her Mama's and shrunk up tight when she washed it. Her shoulder-length curls were slicked up with aloe gel and knotted on top of her head for work. He nodded staring at her face. His eyes were kind of intense. She felt like he was studying her.

He tried pronouncing her name and she laughed. So did the passenger sitting at the window seat. The middle seat was empty.

"I sound like a dolphin saying it, huh?" His smile revealed dimples in his cheeks.

Her fingers went to her lips to keep herself from laughing at him again.

"How do you say it?" he asked.

"We pronounce all the vowels like this…"

She said it for him and his eyes watched her lips. She felt her stomach flutter and she was beginning to feel warm.

"Pretty," he said, "Fuh-ah-nuh…"

"Close enough," she said as he tried several passes to catch the right way.

In her periphery, she saw Mark waving to her from the back.

"Enjoy your flight," she said heading toward the galley once again.

Mark pulled her to the side.

"Is he famous?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is he a singer? Rapper? Actor?"

"I don't know—"

"He has that look. He carries himself like a celebrity. Dark glasses and all…"

"Lots of people wear dark glasses on long flights, Mark. Red eyes from being tired."

Mavis, an older Black flight attendant who could run circles around the entire crew burst into the back carrying a small plastic bag of trash.

"Ooh, y'all see that cutie in forty-seven G?" she said putting the trash away.

"Does he look like someone famous?" Mark asked.

Mavis patted her short cut wig and looked at them both.

"Not really, but man, he got it going on. Body all tight…lips all—"

"Okay, okay, let's focus on the job at hand you guys," Fa'aana said.

The pre-flight video played on every individual passenger screen and Fa'aana was happy to feel the plane backing away from the gate. Once they had reached cruising altitude, she could start the drink and snack cart run and then relax for a bit before the dinner run.

Buckled up into her galley seat she could see down the aisle and saw the arm of the man in forty-seven G lying on the outer armrest.

A young white woman sitting across from him in the middle row was talking to him with animated energy, and he was holding an earbud in his hand while listening to her. The woman leaned across her armrest and Forty-Seven G stuck his earbud back in and turned away from her. The woman looked shocked and eased back into her seat.

Fa'aana chuckled wondering what transpired to make him ignore the woman so abruptly.

She thought of him trying to say her name. Most people would slaughter it and then try to pronounce it the way they wanted to say it, making it easy for them. Or, they just nicknamed her "Ana". But as her Daddy used to tell her, if people can pronounce fucking Schwarzenegger or Tchaikovsky, they could pronounce her name correctly too. And Mr. Forty-Seven G did his best to get it right. God bless him.

Cruising Altitude.

She unfastened her seat in the galley and began the careful push of the metal snack/drink cart down the aisle. Mark worked the left side of the plane and part of the middle and she worked the right and the other half of the middle. Most of the passengers wanted the free wine and peanuts, and because their section wasn't completely full, they were moving right along.

When Fa'aana made it to forty-seven F, she was able to see the tight-lipped white woman who tried to holler at forty-seven G. The woman looked to be in her early twenties with overly caked make-up, and hair teased to look like a wavy cascade of light brown curls.

"Cookies, peanuts?" Fa'aana asked giving the woman a pleasant look.

"Peanuts, and can I have a white wine?"

Fa'aana handed the woman two bags of salted peanuts and poured wine into a plastic white cup.

When she turned toward forty-seven G, she asked the window seat passenger what he wanted first and the older white man sitting there dismissed her with a smile and a wave of his hand. He was focused on his movie.

"And you?" she said.

"Kentucky Straight on the rocks," he said holding his earbud from his left ear.

She smirked.

"What?" he said smiling at her flashing those dimples again.

"Nothing. I'll have to get that from the back, so give me a minute to finish and I'll bring it right back. Snack?"

His eyes felt like they raked across her whole body even though they just stayed glued to her face. She felt a shiver ghost her neck as she glanced at his lips again.

"Lemme get summa them cookies."

She reached into her cart and pulled out two packages of cinnamon cookies and handed it to him with a couple of napkins. His fingers brushed against hers and then he let down his service tray in front of him.

"Where are you from?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Oakland," he said.

"I was trying to place your accent." "Erik," he said holding out his hand. She shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Erik. Be right back."

She moved down the aisle and completed her run, and as she moved back to the galley, she had the sensation that he was watching her. She didn't look behind her.

She checked the liquor cabinet and pulled out the whiskey he wanted. She poured him an extra serving over the ice and tried to figure out why she was feeling a certain way about this dude. He looked young, but his demeanor seemed older to her. In seven hours, she would be turning twenty-six years old. She planned on celebrating when she returned to Atlanta. She felt like she looked her age, but forty-seven G…no Erik, his name was Erik,…he could be early twenties or maybe younger.

She wasn't into younger dudes. She also wasn't really into guys her own age because they were so un-focused to her. She liked older men, at least six to seven years older. In fact, a nice thirty-year-old city planner was waiting to take her out for her birthday when she returned home from the Italy turn-around.

She walked carefully back to Erik's seat and handed him his drink with more napkins.

He took a sip right away.

"Hmmm, not bad. Thank you, Fa'aana," he said.

Whew, chile. She felt her clit thump when he said her name the right way in a seductive tone. It shocked her and she just stood there feeling like he knew what happened inside her panties.

"Enjoy," she said scurrying away from him.

What the hell?

She stood in the back of the galley and wiped her forehead.

"You alright?" Mark asked turning on the convection oven.

"Yes. Just feeling a little warm."

"Really, it's a bit chilly out there. I passed out a few extra blankets."

"It's just me."

"You're not getting sick are you?"

"No."

"Drink plenty of water."

"I will."

The dinner run was smooth and when she served Erik his in-flight meal, he was gracious but focused on a movie he was watching. Clean-up was a breeze and once several rounds of free wine went out along with some black coffee, passengers began to batten down the hatches for sleep. Lights were lowered and Fa'aana snacked a bit before snagging a row of seats to herself in the last middle back row. She sat on the right aisle side so she could keep an eye on the floor. Mark stayed watch hidden in the galley seat and Mavis took no shame finding a row for herself on the far-left side a few rows up from Fa'aana.

Killing time, she started playing a trivia game on the video screen. She was kicking ass playing with seven other passengers. Passenger forty-seven G was hanging neck and neck with her.

Wait. That was Erik.

She stuck her head out and leaned over to look up his way and she could see him pressing buttons on his screen fast. He turned his head to look back, and she ducked back in her seat so he couldn't see her.

After thirty minutes when she won three games out of five, she switched over to a card game of solitaire.

"Nah, go back to the trivia screen."

She was startled to see Erik standing next to her row.

"I was wondering who was sitting back here in fifty-seven F messing up my scores," he said, a sly smile on his lips.

"Busted," she said.

"You're good."

"I've been known to keep a ton of useless trivia in my head. It just comes out in my favor on here."

His eyes were relaxed and he seemed to hold his liquor well after two glasses of wine after his dinner.

"You mind if I sit back here with you and play another round? I want to see if you're cheating or not."

"Cheating? Brain power, Sir."

"Alright, Ma. Let's see then. Scoot over."

She thought about it for a moment.

"You still on the clock?" he asked.

"Yes—"

"Most people are sleep. Just a quick game. Your boss comes through I'll say you were helping me with my screen."

It was tempting.

"One quick game," she said scooting her petite frame over in order to allow his much taller and well-built one to squeeze in next to her.

They both went to the trivia game screen. There was only one other person playing with them.

"Oh, so that's how you pick your answers so fast, you keep your finger on the screen the whole time," he said.

He followed suit, and soon they were matching scores. He beat her for two rounds, but she cleaned up on the last one.

"You want another drink or anything?" she asked.

"Another whiskey would be nice, thanks," he said.

She stood up and scooted past him, straightening her skirt when she reached the aisle. He watched her hand smooth the back. She had a little booty that poked out a bit, but she didn't think it was that obvious, but the way he was looking at her made her self-aware.

She stepped into the galley and poured him another big drink. Mark was asleep. She had to keep her eyes open just in case a passenger needed anything.

"Here," she said handing him the drink along with another packet of cookies.

"Look at you taking care of me," he said winking at her.

It felt odd to be sitting next to him while he drank.

He must've read her mind.

"Here, have a sip," he said handing his cup to her.

"Umm…"

"You can use the straw, I didn't. I'm healthy as hell, just so you know," he said.

"That would not be a good look for me while I'm working. Plus, that drink is really strong."

"It is. You hooked me up though. Not even one sip?"

His eyes had a puppy dog look to them and he tilted his head staring at her.

What could it hurt? It would be her birthday soon enough.

She took his cup and had a tiny sip.

"Stop playing, girl," he said.

His voice sounded raspy. His scruffy beard and mustache really started to look sexy to her. She normally liked men to have neat facial hair, but Erik's looked free and easy- Black hipster chic. She wanted to rub her cheek against it…

Her face felt warm again and she took a bigger sip of his drink.

"There you go. Good, huh?"

The heat hit her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut and gasped. He laughed.

"Amateur," he teased. She started coughing and he reached over and rubbed her back, "My bad, you okay, Ma?"

She held a hand up to her chest and he kept rubbing his hand up and down her back until he was touching her neck.

"You can finish that all by yourself," she said.

He removed his hand from her neck and sipped down his drink.

They talked for a bit and she found herself warming up to him. He was easy to talk to. He was going to a friend's wedding in Rome and would be flying back to Massachusetts afterward. He was in his second year of grad school at M.I.T. and damn it to hell, he was only twenty-one.

"Don't think I'm rude for thinking this…I know you're part Samoan, but they some big ass people. But you, you're so petite—"

"I'm supposed to be buff like Dwayne Johnson or something?" she said rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I've met a lot of Polynesian folks in Cali, and they ain't tiny like you—"

"Tiny?"

"Petite, petite! Short?"

She gave him side eye. And then took his cup of whiskey and took another big sip.

"I'm five foot four."

"I'm six one. You little."

"Pfftt."

She eyed him a bit.

"You want to hear a terrible joke?" she asked feeling a bit loose with him.

"Go 'head."

"I hope you're not easily offended."

"I'm not."

"What do get when you mix Samoans with…."

She trailed off.

"What?"

"Does the N-word bother you?"

"Nah, I use it from time to time. Not in mixed white company usually. But we good."

"Okay. Because if I try to tell this another way, it won't come out right."

"Tell it straight."

"Okay, what do you get when you mix Samoans with….okay why are you looking at me like that?" she said and started laughing.

He had his index finger up against his face like he was judging her. He laughed with her.

"Tell your joke, girl. C'mon…"

"What—"

She started snorting and laughing, the whiskey hitting her and making her goofy.

"Forget it," he said smiling at her and taking his cup from her hand, "You can't handle this Miss Lightweight."

He started up another trivia game and she leaned in toward him.

"What do you get when you mix Samoans and niggas?"

"What?" His eyes had a twinkle in them.

"Some more niggas."

"Your parents hear you tell that joke?"

"My Mama was the one who told my Daddy."

"I'm offended."

His eyes became real serious looking. She stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry. That was unprofessional-"

He burst out laughing.

"I'm just fuckin' witchu!"

"Oh my God. I thought you were really upset."

"You had the look of unemployment on your face!"

They both cracked up.

"You're really pretty when you laugh. Your whole body gets into it."

"Thanks—"

"But that snortin' has got to go!"

"Shut up!" She slapped his shoulder and found herself intrigued by him. He was twenty-one, totally not her age bracket at all, but somehow, he acted…grown? Mature? Acted like someone she could be interested in?

"I was going to watch this foreign flick. Would you like to watch it with me?" he asked.

"Let me go do a quick round first?" she asked. He nodded and finished off his whiskey.

She went to the lavatory to relieve herself of the liquor and then she checked in with Mark who was still snoozing in the galley. Several rows from their seats were empty or only had one occupant, and most were asleep. Nice.

She returned to their row. Erik's hand reached up and turned on one of the reading lights above him.

"This will help keep you awake in case someone calls for you," he said.

He pulled out one of the free earphones that they passed out to passengers earlier.

"We can share this. One ear for the movie, the other free to hear a call for whatever."

"You think of everything," she said.

He was so easy.

A complete stranger, but in less than four hours they had shared a drink together, a crude joke, and now she was kicking off her work heels and curling up on a seat to watch a Korean gangster drama.

The movie was fucking intense.

Even though it was edited for public consumption, Fa'aana found it to be filled with graphic violence and so much…sex. Implied sex really. She was glad they were in the last back rows alone; she would feel embarrassed if other people saw what was on the screen.

Erik took up a lot of space in the middle seat.

"You mind if I lift this up?" he asked.

She looked down at his hand. He wanted to pull up the middle armrest.

"Go ahead," she said without thinking, and he lifted it up opening up the only barrier between them. He stretched his legs and widened his thighs. His right thigh brushed against hers.

"Sorry," he said.

"S'okay," she answered.

She glanced at her watch.

"W'sup?" he asked. "Huh?"

"You keep looking at your watch. You gotta be somewhere?"

"Funny. Um, my birthday is about to drop in…oh, snap, my birthday is here already."

"For real? You're working on your birthday?"

"I'll celebrate it when I get back to Atlanta. I have a birthday dinner date at a fancy restaurant."

"With your boyfriend?"

Erik's eyes looked playful.

"Sort of-"

"Sort of?"

He smiled at her.

"We've been dating for a minute."

"Is he your man though?"

Her lips got tight. No, Hugh was not her man. She was hoping he would be, but thus far they just ate out for meals and had sex at her apartment when she was in town.

Erik's eyes grew soft-looking.

"Happy Birthday, Fa'aana.., hold up—"

He reached into his left pocket.

"I couldn't finish this at dinner, but it can come in handy now."

It was a Godiva chocolate brownie still wrapped inside the plastic. The dinner dessert.

"Hold on," he said.

He pulled out some pocket wetnaps, opened them and cleaned his hands. A rich lemony smell filled her nostrils. Unwrapping the brownie, he placed it on one of the drink napkins she gave him.

"I don't have a candle, but you can pretend to blow one out," he said.

"That's really sweet, Erik."

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you…."

He sang quietly to her and when he finished, he held the brownie up to her mouth. She puckered up her lips and pretended to blow out a candle. When she did, he turned off the overhead reading light.

She could still see him in the glow of their video screens. She took a bite of the brownie and he took a piece too. He broke the remainder in half and fed her a piece then popped the rest in his mouth. She felt a few crumbs tumble from her lips and he reached over and wiped the rest away.

His thumb touched her bottom lip and she felt a tingle from his touch. He traced her lips with the tip of his thumb and she felt her jaw go lax, her mouth parting. Erik inserted part of his thumb in her mouth and she wrapped her lips around it, her tongue licking him. She heard him groan and he pulled her face toward him removing his thumb from between her lips.

"Can I kiss you, Fa'aana?"

"Please," she panted.

No armrest between them he pulled her in tight and his juicy lips took hers. When his tongue licked the seam of her lips, she opened up to him and took him in her mouth.

What are you doing?

She was on the job. She was supposed to be on post waiting to serve passengers who may wake up and want water, or coffee. Here she was with this fine young thing making out like she was trying to be a mile-high club patron.

Her hands went up to touch his hair and his left hand rested on her thigh inching its way up her uniform skirt…

"Hey, wait," she said breaking away from him. She rubbed her cheeks against his facial hair.

She heard a rumble in his chest and an irritated groan escape his lips.

"Too fast?" he asked staring at her eyes with a dreamy look on his sexy ass face.

"Let's just watch the movie."

"You sure?" he said, licking his lips and staring at her.

"That would be best. Safe."

"Okay, Birthday Girl."

He sat back in his seat and he rewound the movie to the last part they watched. Of course, it was a sex scene. A long one too. They stuck the earbuds on.

She folded her arms across her waist.

"You cold?" he asked.

He handed her one of the flimsy blankets and turned down the air above them. She spread the blanket over her legs.

"Lay on me if you want. I stay hot," he said.

She gave him a smirk.

"No, for real. My ex said I'm like a furnace sometimes," he said.

She allowed her left arm and leg to lean against him, and goodness, he was really warm. A nice cozy warm.

They continued watching the movie, and in the scene, a beautiful woman beckoned to her lover, a gangster she had betrayed throughout the movie, and they were lying in bed having passionate sex. The man was squirming in the scene like he was having convulsions.

"Shit that good, homie?" Erik said.

She giggled.

"He actin' like that thang yanks," he said.

"Oh my God, Erik—"

"What? Look at him. Damn…let me find pussy that good."

She found the crude talk exciting. She pressed into his arm a little more.

"You comfortable?" he asked looking down at her.

He lifted his arm and put it around her shoulder. She wanted to curl up and fall asleep on him. He smelled so good, a mixture of coconut oil and some subtle scent like a smoky clove scent. She rested her head against his chest and shifted the earplug to her other ear.

The movie turned into a chase scene and actually kept them both riveted despite having to read the subtitles. It was hard to concentrate because Erik was rubbing on her arm.

There was movement a few rows up and Erik removed his arm from her and she felt a grimace paint her face. God forbid a passenger would want her to work right now. She felt wrong for thinking that because of course she was on the clock, but it felt so nice…so right lying up against him.

She stuck her head out to look for anyone needing assistance, but it was just a passenger about five rows up shifting in their sleep. She opted to stay alert and not lay on Erik. She pressed up into her seat but kept her thigh next to Erik's. He rested his arm and hand on his thigh and part of hers. When she didn't move away from his touch, his hand crept over and rested totally on her thigh. Her breathing became a little heavier even though his hand was on top of the blanket.

"Here comes ole girl again…oh snap. Now she's with the head dude? Nah, she's triflin'…" he said.

She could only focus on Erik's warm hand stroking her thigh in small movements.

"This woman is putting it on these niggas and yoking them up," he said. He started chuckling. His eyes glanced over at her. "Damn, Ma."

"What?" she whispered.

His eyes trapped hers in his.

"You look sexy as hell right now. This movie got you excited?"

She shook her head.

"What got you lookin' like that?"

He already knew it was him. She could tell. He was toying with her. His touch hypnotizing her body. He pulled his earplug from his ear and hers.

"Let me give you a little Birthday present," he said.

"What kind of present?"

"Take your stockings off."

"Why?"

"You know why."

She hesitated. They had reached the point of no return.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. We can still just chill, or I can go back to my seat…"

She didn't want that.

Shit. Why not? It was her birthday. She would never see this man again. Enjoy him. Take whatever he wanted to give. She reached between her legs and pulled down her stockings and shimmied out of them. She balled them up and stuck them inside the pocket of the seat in front of her.

"You have to keep quiet," he said lifting up the blanket and placing part of it over his lap, "Pull your skirt up."

She gave thanks and praise that she had shaved her legs and trimmed up her chocha before she came to work. She wiggled a bit under the blanket fixing her skirt for him. Her eyes fell to his right hand and his thick fingers. The veins in his hand were up and she felt a whimper leave her parted lips.

His hand moved under the blanket and she felt the heat from his skin as his fingers found her damp panties.

"Damn, you're wet already. You been waiting for this, huh?" he whispered. He slid her panties to the side and her vulva slickened his fingers. She could hear his breathing become heavy. Three of his fingers pressed into her mound, easily finding her swollen clit and gifting it with tight slow circles. She widened her legs for him.

"Look at you being a wet slut for me," he said.

She slammed her right hand into her mouth to help herself keep quiet.

"Don't let your boss hear you," he said.

She could hear him panting.

"Can I play in your pussy?" he asked.

"Yes."

He moved his hand from under the blanket and lifted her up easily, placing her sideways on his lap.

"Hold your legs open," he said.

His left arm supported her back and she without a shameless bone in her body let her knees bend and her legs spread for him.

He dragged his fingers up and down her dripping slit, her panties twisted to the side.

"I bet you got a tight pussy," he hummed into her ear.

She whimpered and squirmed a bit in his lap.

"Shhh, be quiet, take these fingers," he said.

She felt him at her entrance, spreading her folds wide open, and then the sudden pressure of three fingers sinking into her slowly.

"Tight as fuck…damn," he gasped keeping his voice low and close to her ear.

She could feel the hard bulge of his erection under her ass, but she could barely focus on that when her walls were being tapped by his thick digits with expert precision. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, then placed them back inside of her.

"You a tasty bitch—"

"Fuck—" she hissed trying to swallow the word. Jesus, what if Mark or Mavis came looking for her? And God forbid one of the other passengers woke up and walked to the rear lavatories to take a piss.

His fingers found her swollen clit again and the mewling coming from her made him rotate his hips so that she could feel the girth of his shaft. He was a big boy for sure. He reached over into the seat and picked up the blanket that was once on her lap. He balled up a small part of it and shoved it in her mouth. She bit onto it as he slipped his fingers back inside of her, the in and out movement simulating a righteous birthday fucking.

"Shit, Ma. I wish I had a condom with me right now. I'd fuck you outta this plane."

She was breathing in hard through her nose and exhaling into the cloth shoved in her mouth. The sound of his fingers working her pussy was loud and obscene to her ears. People had to be able to hear all the squelching noises his fingers were causing her sopping folds to make. Her face felt tight and her eyes were rolling back. How could this be happening? A fine man walks onto a plane and hours later he's fingering her like he loves her?

Most men she had been with took a while to know her body well enough to make her pussy fall apart like that. Erik made her pussy jump the moment he said her name right, and now he had her ready to follow him anywhere. If this is what his fingers could do, what the fuck could his tongue and dick do to her?

Goddamn, he was hitting her clit with his fingers.

"My big dick would fuck this pussy up. Your boyfriend in Atlanta wouldn't be able to feel your pussy when I was done with it," he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was slapping her vulva now and pinching her labia. She arched her back and it was like he could read her mind again. He spit on his fingers and rubbed them around her clit once more, pressing down as he rubbed so that he was covering part of her mound. His timing was impeccable because she came hard and fast and he watched her face as she did.

"Happy Birthday, Baby," he said as she collapsed on his lap, sweaty, wet between the legs, and feeling beyond satisfied.

[Part 2]  [Part 3]

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading/sharing/spending your time here.

Be sure to check out “Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol 1 & 2. Book series details Erik’s Mom & Daddy N’Jobu meeting, hooking up, fucking (a lot), having Erik, raising his lil ass in Oakland, and creating the man you see in this story and others you can find HERE.

#erik killmonger #eriklives #erikkillmonger #black panther #njadaka #n'jadaka #blackpantherfanfic #black panther fanfiction #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger oc #oc #erik #erik killmonger smut #erikkillmongersmut #erik stevens smut #erikstevenssmut

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 19

"You've been feeling kinda juiced up Seeing things in a new light I know you've been through stuff, but I wonder if you're too righteous 'Cause lately people going crazy I think you should stay 'Cause I just want you safe Baby, I know that you're angry Feeling like your fate on the line

Maybe you should stay the night Maybe you should stay the night Maybe you should stay the night Why don't you stay the night Baby just stay the night…"

"Stay The Night" – The Internet

N'Jobu felt his heart wrench itself from his chest and lodge into his throat. Throngs of people were milling around the community center, most were crying and wandering in a daze.

Grabbing his bag from the cab, he made his way into the center looking for any familiar face. His cell rang.

"Hello?!"

"N'Jobu, it's Bakari, what the hell happened?"

"I just left the airport. I'm trying to find Califia and Erik."

Bakari was close to crying and N'Jobu felt himself about to lose it. He needed to free his phone.

"I will contact you when I find them. She's not answering her cell."

"Okay, okay…I'm trying to find info online. I just see two people killed…were Erik and Cali with her in the car?" Bakari asked.

"Yes—"

"Jesus Christ…."

"I'll call you when I can."

N'Jobu hung up and immediately his cell buzzed again.

"N'Jobu. I thought you were on the plane already? I was going to leave you a message. I can't reach Cali…My God, Lia-"

"I already know, I'm trying to find them now—"

"N'Jobu, please find my babygirl and my grandson."

"I will."

He hung up and saw an older woman he recognized from the dinner they attended to celebrate Lia.

"Allendra!" he called. The woman turned and when she saw his face, she hurried over to him with her cane. She shook from crying and grabbed N'Jobu's arms. Her Portuguese was fast and filled with moans. She shook and almost collapsed. N'Jobu helped move her to an empty seat in the community center.

"Soliel?" he asked trying to connect to anyone else. Allendra shook her head and a young man swooped in to care for her.

A group of people were gathered around a tv set watching a news report and N'Jobu caught the name of the area where Lia was killed. He entered it into his cell. It wasn't far from the center according to his GPS. He ran out into the street. It would be easier to get there on foot.

It was luck really.

Simple chance…

Califia sat with Erik at a full table facing a podium where Lia spoke to a large congregation of Black women leaders. The empowerment luncheon was a huge success and the wave of energy she felt being among so many Black Brazilian women leaders gave her goosebumps.

Erik sat next to her and listened to the women speakers who talked about the activism and the need for broad support from city to city. Lia asked Califia and Soliel to come up and share their work with their sister non-profit, The Alpha House.

Many of the women laughed and applauded when Califia and Soliel spoke of their work in Oakland and Sao Paulo. Califia could see Erik watching her, his eyes big with pride when Califia gave the Black Power salute and proclaimed "Power to the People" in Portuguese and many women jumped up to hold their fists in the air. Erik's expressive brown eyes looked around and he leaped to his feet and held up his fist in solidarity. She felt proud of him. She needed him to see Black women taking leadership in their hands. She didn't want him to think that Black men were the only leaders to follow in their community which traditionally was the case because of sexism, and men not being willing to step aside to share power. Or just let women lead period.

When she sat back in her seat, Erik gave her a high five and kept leaning his head against her arm. She put an arm around him and held him close. She thought he would prefer to spend the day with Marisol, but Erik wanted to come to the luncheon. He seemed to be mesmerized every time Lia spoke.

Lunch was actually very tasty and Erik ate his fill of grilled meats and seasoned rice and vegetables. Califia ate a lot too, but she wanted to save room for the dinner they would have later that evening with Lia's parents.

Leaving the luncheon was a whirlwind of women trying to talk to Lia, and many approaching her and Soliel about creating more international sister non-profits. Califia met a woman from Recife who wanted to create an organization and rites of passage program for young Black girls. The vibe was so uplifting. She felt like she wanted to cry because the work she had been doing all those years with her sister-friends was paying off with coalition building and tangible results that were shifting the axis of power in low-income communities. Global change was possible, but it was slow and tedious and not supported by many. As Lia told her once: baby steps. One foot in front of the other and no looking back. Califia began to think about running for office back in Oakland. Why not? Follow in Lia's footsteps. Build bases of power in many cities. Black women taking over.

It was only because a young teenaged girl approached Califia and asked about young people in Sao Paulo reaching out to other teenagers in Oakland that she and Erik and didn't get into the SUV with Lia, Soliel and Lia's office aide Jacinto along with Lia's publicist Yolanda.

"We'll see you all at the house," Lia said stepping into the backseat of Jacinto's car.

"We'll ride with Aunjanue," Califia said as she waved to the young girl to wait for her.

"See you later nephew," Lia said giving Erik a hug. He held Lia's waist.

"I liked your speech," he said.

"I'm glad. Your mother was good too, no?"

"She's always good," Erik said glancing up at Califia with a big grin.

"Ah, thank you, Baby, Mommy tries," Califia said as she squeezed his big cheeks.

They watched Lia get into the car and Califia returned to the young girl. Speaking for a moment and exchanging contact info via cell phone, Califia promised the girl that she would connect her with some young people she worked with in Oakland. The teenager, with a thick head of braids and a gorgeous smile, gave Califia a big hug.

"You and Negra Lia and sister Soliel give me hope," she said.

Califia touched the girl's shoulder.

"No, you give me hope. More young women like you are the future," she said.

"Mom, Aunjanue wants us," Erik said.

"Do you want to go hang with Marisol at the house or go to the store with us?"

"Hang with Marisol," he said grabbing hold of her elbow with his arms.

They walked to Aunjanue's car and Califia took shotgun and Erik scrambled in the back with two other women who rode with Aunjanue to the luncheon. A flood of Black women left the luncheon and Califia watched them all disperse invigorated.

"You want some water, JaJa?" Califia asked taking a water bottle out of her purse.

"No," he said staring out the window.

Ahead of them by four cars, Califia could make out Jacinto's car.

"Lia didn't get very far," she said.

"Jacinto drives slow," Aunjanue said.

Simple chance or maybe divine providence…

Califia held up the bottle of water for Erik again to make sure he didn't want some and when he said no again, she turned her head…

A loud explosion rocked their ears. Aunjanue slammed on her car brakes and they saw a billowing cloud of smoke spewing from something on a sidewalk on the far end of the street. People began running around them and Califia saw a dark non-descript car race around Aunjanue's car.

"What's happening, Mom!?" Erik cried out. He thrust his body toward hers in the front seat.

Califia watched the driver of the nondescript car pump their brakes and jump out waving an automatic weapon. He began shooting directly into Jacinto's car, aiming for the back seat first.

"Get down!" Califia screamed at Erik, shoving his head down in the back seat. She ducked down with Aunjanue in the front, and when the gunshots ended and she heard the car speed away, only then did she raise up to look.

There was screaming in the streets with people covering their eyes and noses because of white smoke drifting everywhere. It smelled like something Califia was familiar with. Tear gas.

"Stay here, JaJa," Califia said jumping out of the car and running toward Jacinto's car covering her nose and mouth with part of her blouse.

She knew it was bad before she got to the car, and before she could really see the horror, a man reached out and shoved her back. Pipe bomb smoke blew their way stinging her eyes and she could hear Soliel screaming inside the bullet-ridden car.

"Mom!"

Califia looked behind her and saw Erik, wide-eyed and frightened watching her. He began coughing when the smoke reached his eyes. She ripped a bottom piece of her long skirt off and soaked it with the bottled water she still held in her hand. She snatched Erik and shoved the wet cloth onto his eyes and nose.

Erik shoved her hand away from his eyes and looked at Jacinto's car, his eyes tearing up from the smoke. They both saw Soliel stumble out of the car bleeding from her chest, her screams almost drowned out by the stampede of people full of panic and running over each other.

"Go!" Soliel screamed to Califia as she clutched her chest.

Califia shoved the cloth back over Erik's face and made him hold it. She lifted him up and ran with him.

"Don't look, Baby! Don't look….don't look!"

Aunjanue ran past them to reach Soliel.

"Get him away from here!" Aunjanue shouted to her.

Califia ran as fast and as far as she could.

She had to keep her child safe. No matter what happened to her sister-friends, she had to protect Erik first.

The streets were blocked by the policia federal by the time N'Jobu reached the area where Lia was gunned down. He was able to get a glimpse of the car they were in. He could see blood in the street, and more people were crowding around. The anger in the air was visceral. He saw rage on the faces of many people standing watch over the scene. Jacinto's SUV was surrounded by police tape and N'Jobu made his way past the car and further down toward the building the luncheon was held.

Inside, several people were being questioned by police and detectives, so N'Jobu made himself discreet as his eyes darted around looking for his woman and child.

"N'Jobu!"

N'Jobu whirled himself in the direction of the familiar voice. Andres.

The man looked like walking death. He carried two cups of water in his hand. N'Jobu ran to him.

"Come with me," Andres said, and N'Jobu followed him to an alcove.

"Califia!" N'Jobu yelled when he saw her.

She was seated in a chair with Erik lying across her lap. They both had red eyes and looked beyond distraught. Califia reached up for him and he sat next to her and hugged her. He couldn't hold back his emotions and cried into her hair as Erik sat up from her lap. He reached over and pulled Erik onto his lap as he wrapped his other arm around Califia.

"I saw it on the news at the airport."

"They killed her and her publicist. Jacinto just died on the way to the hospital. A car drove up and shot them all up. Soliel is in surgery now. N'Jobu, Erik saw her. He saw Soliel—"

Her face pressed into his neck and she wailed into him. He felt Erik falling apart with her and he willed himself to cease his tears. They needed him to be the strong one right now. He took in deep breaths and gave long exhales until he felt that he had control of his emotions and the tremors of fear and anger in his body. He wiped his eyes and looked at Andres.

"I'm so sorry," he said to the older man. Andres held out the water for Erik and Califia. N'Jobu made them drink it.

"Aunjanue called me to find them," Andres said looking at Califia and Erik, "I can't lose any more daughters."

"I need to go to the hospital," Califia said.

Andres knelt in front of her.

"I need to take you to go be with Marisol. We need you to look after her and Erik together. I will take you all to her. Aunjanue will stay at the hospital tonight with Soliel and my wife. I have to deal with the police and find out who killed my Lia."

N'Jobu had no idea how Andres held it together.

"The streets will be dangerous tonight. Too much anger. I need my family safe," Andres said.

N'Jobu nodded.

"Come. We should leave," Andres said standing up.

N'Jobu picked up Erik and threaded his fingers with Califia's. He knew she wanted to go to the hospital.

"My love, Marisol needs us. Soliel and Aunjanue would want us to be with their little girl."

"I know," Califia said, her face a waterfall of tears. He kissed her temple.

The ride in Andres' van was a challenge. So many people in the streets and so many police cars barricading many roads to control the flow of cars and bodies trying to get near the crime scene.

N'Jobu sat with Califia and Erik in the back. Her shudders into his neck as she continued crying wounded his soul. Erik seemed to want to be like N'Jobu, strong for his mother as he held her hand. His little soldier. Always wanting to protect Califia. The boy had wiped away his tears and kept his face stoic for her.

Lia's street was teeming with people. There were flowers and candles laid in front of the steps leading from the bottom to the top in front of her flat.

Two of Lia's and Soliel's older cousins, red-eyed and exhausted, greeted them with a weepy-faced Marisol. The moment Marisol saw Califia, she burst into tears and Califia picked her up and crooned soft noises into her ear as she rocked her on her hip. Erik patted Marisol's back as Califia took the girl to the main bedroom.

Andres turned to N'Jobu.

"We will be at the hospital until we know how Soliel's surgery goes. She took two bullets. One in the shoulder and one in the chest. They shot my Lia in the head—"

Andres broke down and N'Jobu grabbed him and held him tight. The older man rested his head on N'Jobu's shoulder.

"She was our champion. My first born. How could they do this to her?!"

Andres pressed his hands into his face and N'Jobu did his best to comfort him. He was in no shape to drive. One of the cousins decided to go with Andres and drive him to the hospital. The other cousin, an older woman with weary eyes offered to cook for N'Jobu and his family.

"Thank you," he said as he watched Andres leave for the hospital. The older cousin went into the kitchen and N'Jobu went to check on Califia and the children.

He found her on Lia's wide bed with both children at her side. Marisol was weeping softly on her lap and Erik was stroking her hair that spread loosely around her small shoulders. Califia patted Marisol's back and also stroked Erik's hair.

"Andres has gone to the hospital," N'Jobu said.

Marisol asked N'Jobu something in Portuguese that he couldn't make out because her voice was so soft and tired.

"She asked if her Mommy was going to be alright," Califia said.

The expression on Califia's face let him know that she needed reassurance from him just as much as Marisol did. Erik's somber brown eyes were also needing N'Jobu's confidence in the outcome. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the little girl.

"Your mother will be fine," he said. Marisol closed her eyes and turned her head to face Califia's stomach.

"For real, Baba?" Erik asked his eyes welling up.

"Come here," N'Jobu said holding out his arms for Erik. His son scrambled from under Califia's embrace and threw his arms around N'Jobu's neck. He felt the trembling in his son's slender frame.

"You can cry, my Son. You experienced something no child should have to see. I am sorry this happened. I am sorry you were there."

"I want to hurt them," Erik said, his warm breath blowing onto N'Jobu's neck, "I want you to get them, Baba. Make them pay—"

"Shh, JaJa…the police will find these people—"

"It was probably the police who did this," Califia hissed.

N'Jobu glanced at her, surprised by the sudden veracity in her voice. Her eyes had the look of revenge in them. The children didn't need to see this.

"Erik, do you think you can look after Marisol for a little bit?" N'Jobu asked. Erik shook his head and scooted back over to Califia.

"Can we talk in private?" N'Jobu asked.

Califia lifted Marisol from her lap laid the girl out on the bed next to Erik. Their son threw his arm around her shoulder. Marisol's big ebony eyes watched them leave the room.

N'Jobu pulled Califia into the smaller spare bedroom and closed the door.

He embraced her and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I couldn't reach you on your phone. I was terrified, Califia."

"It happened so fast. I left my purse in Aunjanue's car. There was an explosion…they set her up N'Jobu. They put a pipe bomb in a trash receptacle to stop the flow of cars so they could get her—"

"I know—"

"They had tear gas, and I saw the car go past us, I saw a man open fire—"

He felt her body go limp and he held her up.

"It was the police. I know it was. She planned on shaking up their cabal and they got rid of her…"

"We have to be brave for the children—"

"I want to kill the people who did this…I want them fucking dead and in the ground…"

She grabbed onto his shirt with her fists.

"Soliel jumped out of the car and screamed at us to get away. I just grabbed Erik and ran—"

"You did well, my love."

"She's dead—"

"Shh—"

"Soliel might die—"

"No—"

"We could lose them both."

He pressed his forehead into hers.

"Don't think that way. Think about Erik. Think about Marisol. They need to see you rise above this-"

She pushed away from him.

"How do I rise above this? That could've been us in the car! By a fluke, I got caught up with a young person who asked me a question and we didn't ride with Lia. Our son could be dead. I could be dead right now—"

"Califia, please….baby…you are here. You are both here. There is a little girl in there who has no idea what is happening to her other mother. We need to be here for her."

Califia's eyes closed and she drew in a long inhale. When she exhaled and opened her eyes, there was a resolve in them. He had reached her, turned her around for the moment. She grabbed onto his arms.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said.

He made her lay on the guest bed and went back to the other bedroom. Erik and Marisol had fallen asleep together, both curled up in the fetal position facing each other. N'Jobu went back to Califia and curled up next to her. He took out his phone and texted her father and mother and left a text for Bakari to inform all of their friends that they were safe.

For the second time that day, his kimoyo beads heated up. He ignored it. He would have to lie to T'Chaka. His family needed him. As soon as he could, he wanted to get them out of Brazil.

Late into the evening Aunjanue and Lia's parents returned to Lia's place.

Soliel was out of surgery and was expected to survive although she was still in critical condition. Close friends and other family squeezed into the home and the noise outside in the street was ferocious. The people there were a powder keg ready to blow.

The children had been fed and put back into bed. Marisol was calmer now that Aunjanue was there, and N'Jobu watched Califia and Axiel pace on the patio with a few of Lia's relatives. There were constant knocks on the front door, so one of Lia's big male cousins sat in a chair out front to keep reporters and other people away as the family tried to grieve for Lia and pray for Soliel's full recovery.

N'Jobu went to check on Erik and Marisol again and when he returned to the patio, Califia and Axiel were gone.

"Where is Califia?" he asked Andres.

Andres' hands were clasped together in his lap as he sat on the couch.

"They have gone out there," he said.

"What? Why?"

N'Jobu ran out of the home and flew down the stairs.

So many people.

"Califia!" he called out. He ran downhill trying to pick out her shape among the people. There were police posted up on corners and N'Jobu felt the thick tension pushing against his skin. He didn't like the way things felt. He heard a glass bottle break behind him and he kept his eyes darting about searching for her.

A group of young teenagers, both girls, and boys, taunted five officers stationed near a busy corner street. Heated words were exchanged and N'Jobu saw that the police were acting as if they wanted something to pop off. He moved past them quickly. Califia and the police were not a good mix.

A large group of protesters walked towards a wide intersection where a young Black woman was standing on a car and yelling at the crowd. She wore one of Lia's political t-shirts, and N'Jobu felt his spirit crashing. How was it possible that earlier that day he was speaking to Lia, wishing her well and looking forward to her visiting his family, and now she was dead, lying in a medical examiner's freezer with a bullet in her brain? He could only make out a few words of what the young speaker was saying, but she appeared to be riling them up. He heard the words "Justice" and "Black People" and Lia's name.

A federal police van drove up with the cops on speakers telling the crowd to disperse. More police vehicles were surrounding them. N'Jobu felt his gut tighten. He had to find his woman soon…

He caught sight of Axiel, the man's long locs tied up on his head. Axiel was yelling in agreement with the young woman on the car. He had his right hand stretched out and holding onto Califia's shoulder in front of him. She had her head down and N'Jobu swooped in to get her.

"Califia," he said reaching for her hand and pulling her away from Axiel.

Her eyes were red from crying again, but there was a hardness in them that startled him. For a second, she looked at him as if she didn't recognize him.

"Baby," he said trying to will her back to him.

The young woman speaker jumped down from the car and the crowd began following her and shouting Lia's name, ignoring the police who began to grab at people to stop them.

"We are going to the police station," Axiel said. Axiel looked at Califia as if to confirm her joining him.

N'Jobu felt the rush of bodies moving around them. The police were still yelling at people on the speakers.

"They can't get away with this," she finally said, the words sounding thick and heavy in her mouth.

"I know, but it's not safe out here. The police here are ready to go off. I don't think people will remain peaceful—"

"We shouldn't be peaceful!" Axiel yelled.

N'Jobu glared at him.

"They walk over us. They take one of own and they'll do it again and again unless we stop them!" Axiel's eyes were blazing.

Califia nodded in agreement.

N'Jobu held her shoulders and pulled her in close. She felt tense, coiled…ready to strike.

"Come back to the house with me. Erik is there and he needs you with him. I need you with me. This is a bad scene right now, baby. I know you want to fight. I know you want justice. We all do. But I need you to come back with me…please."

Her eyes swept over his face.

"Axiel, you should come back too," he said glancing over at him, trying to coax the man back to safety.

"The family needs you both there with them. Not out here."

N'Jobu saw Axiel's face go lax and then it contorted into intense pain. He ran from them and joined the sea of bodies.

"Axiel!" N'Jobu called out.

He was gone.

Califia wrapped her left arm around N'Jobu's. Clinging to him she allowed him to lead her back up the hill.

Lia's parents looked relieved to see Califia back in the fold. They made her call her father and grandmother, and soon after, her mother. Hearing their voices made her relax, especially her grandmother Nana Jean.

When N'Jobu learned that there would be no funeral right away, he made flight arrangements to get Erik and Califia out of the country. She didn't want to leave, but Aunjanue and Andres insisted. They would all be laying low until Lia's killers were found. No one felt safe. As soon as Soliel could be released from the hospital, she and her family would be sent away to stay with relatives outside of the city.

Lying in bed with her and Erik, he couldn't sleep. She couldn't either. He held her tight with Erik curled up between them. Erik had a fretful sleep, and N'Jobu worried that he would have nightmares about Soliel and Lia for a long time.

Watching Califia's face as she finally drifted off, N'Jobu wondered if she would've stayed out in the street if hadn't been there. Would she have left Erik and run out to risk her life if he hadn't been there and gone after her?

He believed she would have.

And that scared him.

The first thing N'Jobu did upon arriving back in the states with his family was to contact T'Chaka when he knew his brother would be busy. He made sure the signature showed him to be in Oakland, and he gave the concocted story of being at a wild drunken bachelor party out of state for a few days.

The second thing he did was contact the therapist that he and Califia used so many years ago to get through a rough patch. Dr. Davis. He wanted Erik and Califia to see her and deal with what happened in Brazil. Especially Erik.

The third thing he did was contact D'Beke and Sita. It was time to take a head count of War Dogs. Who was with him…and who was not.

And the fourth and final thing was to look up the infamous Ulysses Klaue.

Chapter 20 HERE.

#blackpanther #black panther #eriklives #erik killmonger #erik #erikkillmonger #erikstevens #erik stevens #wakanda #marvel #njobu #n'jobu #prince njobu #prince n'jobu #princenjobu #black panther fanfiction #blackpantherfanfic

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8

"You don't know babe When you hold me And kiss me slowly It's the sweetest thing And it don't change If I had it my way You would know that you are

You're the coffee that I need in the morning You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring Won't you give yourself to me Give it all…"

"Best Part" Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

The official edict from N'Jobu's parents regarding his getting around the city was that he was never to take public transportation. When he attended the London School of Economics during undergrad, two Dora Milaje were assigned to tail him at all times and put a dent in his social life. He wanted things to be different while he was in the U.S. and insisted that he did not need the Dora Milaje to babysit him.

His imported BMW had been retrofitted in Wakanda to have the latest surveillance and protection tech to keep the Prince safe while he was in America. Bullet-proof, bomb-proof, and laser-proof, the vibranium enhanced automobile could withstand any manner of attack. Even poison gas.

Spending the day with Califia and her friends caused N'Jobu to disobey the edict when he decided to move around with them without the use of his car. Hidden away in his bomber jacket was a light-weight vibranium body shield that he could activate if necessary. Not one time during his first year in California did he ever have to use any weapons to keep himself safe. He kept a low profile, often using fake names in different places to keep off anyone's radar.

It was so refreshing for him to ride the BART system with the group and mingle around regular citizens outside of school. It also meant he could drink a little more and not worry about driving while intoxicated. The sizeable group from the museum voted to go hang out at a popular microbrewery on Haight Street. They arrived in time for Happy Hour and were able to secure several tables that they pushed together near the street-facing window.

N'Jobu sat across from Califia and Soliel who were busy drinking bitter red ales while he took his time savoring a cider Califia had picked out for him to try. It was a ginger-grass cider brew that packed quite a punch. She made sure to have a small carafe of wine available in case the cider wasn't to his liking. His skin felt tingly from the cider, and his brain was buzzing with the conversation and company surrounding him.

He glanced around the table to take in their party: Bakari and Shavonne cozied up next to each other sharing a plate of bacon-wrapped dates with goat cheese. Langston and Rolita tucking into French-fried asparagus and cauliflower. A young man named Reynaldo who appeared to be the youngest of their group and who was carded by the waiter much to the delight of his friends who teased him about his baby face.

Soliel's girlfriend Aunjanue was arguing with Califia and Soliel over a new rap album that dropped online. The three of them shared a meat plate of andouille sausage and currywurst sausage with a side of russet potatoes. N'Jobu picked at his own meal of grilled romaine salad with a heavy dose of bacon vinaigrette. Aunjanue was adamant that her assessment of the album was correct and she was holding court at the table to prove her point.

"The problem is, all of you expect rhyme styles to stay the same. What you all call mumble rap is just a new evolution of the culture," Aunjanue said. She wore a thick topknot of black braids, her dark brown skin having the same reddish tint as Califia. Soliel had her arm around the back of Aunjanue's chair.

"Part of the culture is knowing what a muthafucker is saying," Califia blurted out, causing the entire table to laugh.

"James Brown often sang words that we had no idea what he was saying, but we don't dog him out," Aunjanue leveled at Califia.

"Slow your roll, Aunjanue, James Brown was often doing that Gullah talk, so just because the masses didn't understand it, don't mean people like him didn't. Get on that, Cali," Bakari said pointing at her.

"Gullah?" N'Jobu asked Califia. She took a quick swig of her ale and looked at him.

"My great-grandparents are from Georgia, Geechie country. Um, we're known as Gullah people. They were descended from enslaved Ibo who lived on some of the small islands off the Georgia coast. Their language is a mixture of Ibo, Creole English and a little bit of Muskogee Creek. Native American. They say a lot of James Brown's grunts and groans was Geechie talk."

"Do you know any of it?"

"Me? Nah, that's old-timey talk."

"You should look into learning it, Califia," Rolita said, "my tribe is teaching our young people, but too many of our elders are passing on, so we're losing some things."

"Rolita's people are Yurok. California indigenous." Califia said.

"Ah, yes, Yurok," N'jobu said, pouring himself a glass of cabernet from the carafe.

He was familiar with the more well-known Native American groups. But he had never heard of the Gullah before. Creoles and New Orleans history were more familiar to him. He knew very little about Georgia or Califia's people. But he found it interesting that the Ibo were part of her roots.

"Speaking of my people, please tell me you all are coming out to Alcatraz on Thanksgiving," Rolita said tugging on her two short braids and snacking down on an asparagus stalk.

"I'm going," Soliel said.

"Me too," said Califia reaching for the carafe and pouring herself a half glass of wine.

"You know I'm down," said Bakari scooting back his chair to give Shavonne room to get up. She headed back towards the restrooms in the pub.

"What's happening in Alcatraz? Isn't that an old prison?" N'Jobu asked pouring the rest of the wine into his own glass. He glanced over at Rolita.

"Several different Native American groups get together to do a sunrise celebration instead of recognizing Thanksgiving," Rolita said. "we've been doing this for over forty years now. I would love for you to come with us," Rolita said.

"I will do that," N'Jobu said, pulling out his cell and updating his personal calendar.

"You have to get up early man, the crack of dawn's ass," Bakari said.

Rolita went into a little more detail about the gathering, and as he listened, N'Jobu began to get a clearer picture of Califia's world. Most of her friends were activists of some sort. She also had a very diverse group of friends from all walks of life who were committed to various social justice causes. Everyone seated at the table was a person of color, and N'Jobu wondered if she had any white friends or peers that she associated with. N'Jobu didn't get a sense of animosity towards whiteness or white people from the group, but he was eager to know if their activism precluded having to engage with other white students. The mere thought of that didn't sit with him very well.

His own very selective peer group was just as diverse, but he did have quite a few white schoolmates he engaged within his department at school and in his social life. Also, his major tended to be filled with more white students. He began to think that Califia and her friends self-segregated much to their detriment. An open hand could do more in the world than a closed fist.

Their waiter came by the table again and N'Jobu requested another glass of cider from the jovial brunette who kept filling his side glass of water every chance she got. The conversation moved onto reality TV shows they were keeping up with, and then the movies they wanted to see. He kept his eye on Califia, enjoying her laughter and the soft chiding she gave her friends when they disagreed about things. When she became passionate about a topic, her voice would raise an octave and her eyes would squint as if she were going to use the force of her will to bend them to her side. A couple of times she jabbed her finger into his shoulder to make her point and he savored her touch. He was finishing his second glass of cider when she reached for it and drank the last cool dregs.

"That's not bad," she said, a smear of her lip gloss staining the small glass she still held in her hand.

"Would you like to share another?" he asked. Before she answered, two men outside knocked on the thick glass of the pub staring at them. She placed his glass back near his hand and he watched her gaze at the men entering the pub. Bakari stood up slapping hands and bumping shoulders with both men. One was a tall slender Latino with tats on his arms and wearing an Angels baseball cap. The other was a medium-build black guy with twists in his hair and TV star looks. The black guy and the Latino made their way to the empty seat between N'Jobu and Califia.

"Babe," the black man said kissing Califia's cheek.

"Hey, Xavier," Califia said, looking nowhere in N'Jobu's direction. Greetings went around, and Xavier's friend Julian grabbed another chair from an empty table and further added distance between N'Jobu and Califia.

Xavier was affable, everyone else at the table except for Shavonne knew him, and N'Jobu sensed from Califia's terse expression that something was off in their relationship. Xavier was leaning into her, but her shoulders leaned more towards Soliel.

The pub grew louder as more customers filled the brewery, and there was music playing above the din that made it harder for N'Jobu to keep up with all the conversations that were going on. The only person he wanted to focus on was Califia, but Xavier was making N'Jobu vacillate between staying and leaving the group. He didn't like sitting near her with some other dude hanging off her. His jaw kept getting tight every time Xavier dipped near her face and whispered in her ear.

At one point he caught Soliel's eye, and he thought for a moment that she could see right through his discomfort. N'Jobu checked his cell for the time and was astonished at how late it had gotten. They had been in the pub for over two hours. The sun was setting in a fiery crimson splash outside when the check finally arrived at their table. The group left behind a healthy tip for their server, and once they were all outside, N'Jobu had to stomach Xavier throwing his arm around Califia's shoulder.

"There's a bar down the street that has reggae music tonight. Julian's homie plays the drums. Y'all up for that? Free cover charge," Xavier told everyone.

"Free is enticing," Rolita said throwing a light jacket on.

N'Jobu pulled on his bomber jacket and checked his cell again. Andrea was blowing up his phone.

"Are you interested in checking it out, N'Jobu?" Califia asked. Xavier was looking at N'Jobu, his left arm draped over Califia, his hand dangling near her left breast. N'Jobu wanted to reach over and pull the man's hand and arm away from her. His whole day today had been special because he had time to be around her, share parts of himself with her, got to know how her mind worked when she was excited about something, and now he felt restricted because her man was with them. Her man.

N'Jobu swallowed thickly, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He had a light buzz and Califia was staring at him with those cat eyes of hers that took on a sultry look from the rays of the setting sun. She pursed her lips like she was about to say something else and Xavier led her away to lead the pack towards the next hangout spot. Man or no man, N'Jobu needed to be near her. He tagged along despite his misgivings.

###

Califia stood near the back of the bar listening to the reggae band do a fair rendition of "Sun is Shining". She was swaying along with the heavy bass rhythms, Xavier next to her with his fourth beer in his hand. She kept her mouth shut after his third beer, but the fourth one was causing him to act a little sloppy in public. The bar was packed with eager dancing patrons, their little posse bringing in the smattering of color in an otherwise predominately white space. Behind her, N'Jobu sat on a barstool enjoying the vibe and downing a rum and coke. He was only five feet away from her, but she could feel his eyes on her, boring into the back of her head. Xavier had been extra touchy-feely with her in the reggae bar and it made her feel uncomfortable because he was only doing it when N'Jobu was near them.

The first thirty minutes in the bar had been fun, the entire group dancing on the small cement dance floor. N'Jobu had been snagged by a pretty sandy-haired white woman, and Califia enjoyed watching him sway to the loud music. He was actually a pretty good dancer and she catcalled him when the music got good to him and he flashed her his pearly whites and she felt her cheeks raise up higher than usual when she smiled back at him. That's when Xavier caught a whiff of something between them and started fondling her more openly. He wasn't one for public PDA, but Califia's flirty behavior around N'Jobu kicked it up a few notches.

N'Jobu had switched out his dancing partner for a cute black woman with a sexy frohawk, and the live band high-powered through a classic Dawn Penn jam. Califia's arms were casually draped around Xavier's neck as she watched N'Jobu dance and talk to the woman, his hands sliding up and down the woman's back. N'Jobu wasn't wearing his jacket while dancing, and the woman was rubbing her hands up and down his arms.

Xavier spun Califia around and pressed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing his crotch against her ass.

"There it is baby," he said, singing along with the song and dry humping her, "arch that back girl, show these fools how it's done."

Xavier's hands slid down from her shoulders and held her waist, his hips gyrating and thrusting against her. She stepped away from his grip, turning to face him with a rigid smile on her face. She could feel his dick pressing into her stomach when she hugged him.

"Be good," she hissed at him as she tried to ignore the pokes his hardness was giving to her.

Over Xavier's shoulder, she could see N'Jobu watching her, his eyes gone narrow. She gave him a little wave and he nodded at her. She noticed his hands were riding just above his partner's butt and her lips pressed together in a tight grimace when she felt Xavier's hands grabbing and separating her ass cheeks with his hands.

"Baby you feel so good," Xavier murmured. His mouth crashed into her lips while she was still staring at N'Jobu. His kisses were sloppy and over-exaggerated and Califia endured it until the song ended. As the crowd clapped, Califia pushed away from Xavier.

"I'm going to get some water," she said, hurrying away from him.

Now they were standing together and listening to music, Xavier giving harsh whispers in her ear every other minute.

"Why are you tripping tonight?" Xavier asked.

"You are doing a little too much for me."

"Like what?"

"I don't need you molesting me in public."

"Molesting you? You're my woman. We're having fun."

"I'll keep it buck then, you're not holding your liquor and I don't like how you're touching me."

"You crazy."

Xavier walked into the crowd to get closer to the band. Califia drew in a deep breath and released a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was for Xavier to get loud and make a scene, embarrassing her in front of her friends. She turned around to go back to the bar and found N'Jobu still sitting and watching her.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really."

She sat on the stool next to him and asked for a coke from the bartender.

"Trouble in paradise then?"

"Tuh," she answered. She drank her coke and watched the band. The room was jam-packed to the rafters, she couldn't even see where her people were, not even Xavier.

"The music is very good," he said.

She stared at N'Jobu knowing he was trying to lighten her mood.

"You are a good dancer," she said giving him a sly smile. She saw his eyes relax and it made her feel better.

"You are much better. I like watching you move."

She smiled again.

"You want to dance?" he asked.

"Not right now, if that's okay. I just need to chill for a minute. Xavier's got my pressure up."

N'Jobu nodded, set down his drink and slipped off the stool.

"You don't have to go," Califia said quickly, reaching out and pulling his arm back. She looked at her hand on his arm and pulled away fast. She hadn't meant to grab him. She looked desperate and her face grew warm.

"Sorry," she whispered.

N'Jobu didn't get back on the stool, but he did stand in front of her. He was close enough so that his thighs were touching her knees. He was almost eye level with her.

"What's the problem with you and Xavier?"

Califia tilted her head back and laughed in a way that had a little bite to it.

"Everything," she stammered, and then caught herself with her open honesty. N'Jobu's eyes didn't press her, but they did make her feel safe. She took a long sip of her coke and leaned in closer so N'Jobu could hear her clearly. She was cognizant of the fact that her knees were pressing hard into his thighs at this point. Her head was still a bit foggy with the drinking she did earlier, but she was comfortable.

"Earlier he told me he had bought tickets for us to go to New Orleans for winter break. But I wasn't even sure I wanted to go. I told him that. He was upset that he paid for a ticket I might not use. That's the first thing." She took another sip of coke, "You really don't need to hear this, it's boring," she said.

"No, keep going. It's good to talk things out with other people. I'm a good listener," he said.

His voice had grown deeper, at least that's how it sounded to Califia. His expression was like that of a Priest patiently taking in a confessional with no judgment.

"Xavier is a great dude. He's smart, educated, about to get a bomb ass job-"

"And very good-looking," N'Jobu said smiling at her.

"No doubt. On paper, he is everything a woman is supposed to want. But sometimes I look at him like it's not enough. Like he doesn't get me. He's the longest relationship I've ever been in, but I feel like there might be something else out there better for me. And I feel like shit for thinking that when other women would give their teeth for a man like him."

She shook her head at how easy that flowed from her mouth. She hadn't even said those things to Soliel or Bakari. But here she was giving somewhat intimate details about her boyfriend to a man she had masturbated over. Many times. Jesus be a rock.

"Serah told me to break up with him."

"Why don't you? You aren't happy, right? Just end it."

Califia's chest hitched a bit and she felt the pinpricks of a small tear forming in her right eye.

"I don't want to hurt him," she murmured and the lone tear fell down her cheek. She reached up to wipe her cheek, but N'Jobu already had his left thumb on her face wiping the teardrop away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said. Califia took in another deep breath and released it. She felt a shudder go through herself. There. She had finally confessed her real reason for not breaking up. She didn't want to hurt Xavier.

"I keep hoping he'll dump me, or we'll have this huge dramatic fight where I can act belligerent and he just tells me he quits, but it never happens. We are in this stalemate. Comfortably numb. I tell myself there has to be someone that's a better fit for me, but I'm scared there won't be, and what if I leave him on a whim and I never find that other person?"

N'Jobu still had his thumb on her cheek.

"You'll never know if you don't let him go, Califia."

"I'm holding him hostage, aren't I?"

N'Jobu only gave her a sad smile.

"I'm such a selfish bitch. I need to make a decision soon."

"I wish you would," he said, his voice gone husky, almost like a command.

Califia stared at N'Jobu. His thumb traced down her face and touched her lips. The sensation of his thumb on her lips tickled and sparked the skin there. She pursed her lips so that the touch felt like a kiss. Another tear formed in her eye.

"You are beautiful when you are angry, you are beautiful when you laugh, and you are even more beautiful when you cry," he said.

"Thank you," she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I wish you weren't with him because I really want to kiss you right now," he said.

The strumming in her heart turned into a gallop as his eyes swept down to her lips. The music in the bar was far away, the voices of the other patrons gone mute in her mind. She opened her thighs and pulled him closer to her, holding onto his arms. He rested his forehead on hers and she closed her eyes. She tried to match his steady breathing, but her own breathing was erratic. She could smell the rum on his breath as he let his hands run up her thighs and rest on her hips.

"Califia," he said.

"Say my whole name," she said, still clutching his arms, afraid to move, afraid to escape his warmth.

He chuckled and whispered in her ear, "Califia Stevens." Her toes curled in her heels, and the tingle from his tongue swiping her ear when he spoke her name felt like the fluttering of butterflies. She could probably cum from him just whispering her name over and over.

She pulled her forehead away from his and cradled his neck with her hands.

"Say my name again," she told him.

###

When N'Jobu opened his mouth to speak her name, Califia pressed her lips into his and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. He didn't back away from her. He didn't tell her to stop. Their tongues swirled around trying to find an acceptable rhythm, and when N'Jobu's hands pressed into her lower back, she ceded control of their mouths over to him. Now in control, N'Jobu plundered the heat he found between their lips encouraged to keep his pace by the soft humming he heard deep in her throat. He slowed down to enjoy the wet smacking sounds they gave off. He pulled her closer to the edge of the barstool leaning back just a bit so that she couldn't feel the strain of his cock growing thicker in his pants.

Kissing her deeply, slowly, wetly, he found his mind feverishly trying to gather his wits. Xavier was in the room somewhere, possibly heading back to them, or maybe even her friends would spot them and break up their joining. He had been dying to kiss her all day but felt the opportunity would never happen with Xavier there, but here they were lip-locked, with Califia sucking on his tongue the way he imagined her sucking on his dick.

"Califia, shit," he growled in her mouth, threading his fingers through the back of her bushy hair and yanking hard on it so that she was looking up into his face from the force of his grip.

Her lips were parted and he could see that magical tongue between her teeth. Her eyes were half closed and up close he could see how thick her eyebrows were. He kissed the freckles on her nose, pulled her hair harder and buried his face on the side of her neck, nipping her on a spot just shy of her collarbone.

He started lightly sucking on her neck, enjoying the whimpers spilling from her lips and the quivering from her thighs. He could feel his dick twitching in his pants, probably already spilling sticky beads of pre-cum inside his boxers. He needed to stop or he would be fucking this girl on the barstool and not giving a fuck who was in the room.

He pulled away from her, panting a bit himself and giving up more space between them. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, so he hopped up on his stool and gulped down the last of his rum and coke.

He watched Califia run her fingers on the edges of her lips to fix the last of her ruined lip gloss. She closed her legs and tugged on her top, peeling away the material from the sweat on her upper body.

The girl with the frohawk ambled over to N'Jobu and asked him to dance and he jumped at the chance to get away from Califia, escape the dizzying power she had over him now that she had laid that kiss on him. He didn't even look back to see what her reaction was to his leaving her at the bar. He just needed to escape. And time to think.

He had women all over, and was free to kiss, flirt, fornicate and break hearts if he so desired. All his women were free. But Califia had Xavier. She wasn't free. And as much as he wanted her (in his bed, on his face, sitting on his dick), he was not down for any triangle. After that kiss, he needed to fuck her in every position possible before he left for Wakanda. If she fucked the way she kissed, he was a dead man. And she was worth dying for. Courtney, the girl he was dancing with tried getting his attention. They danced to a song called "Night Nurse", and Courtney was body rolling and smashing her cute ass against his groin, keeping him hard. He looked around to see Califia at the bar with Rolita, Soliel, and Aunjanue. They were having an animated discussion from what he could tell, and he wondered if the conversation was about him.

The band's last set was finished and terrible music replaced it from a D.J. who didn't follow the theme of the reggae vibes but instead blasted the audience with Euro-Pop. He felt his cell vibrate. Checking it he saw that everyone was meeting outside to say goodbye for the night. N'Jobu thanked Courtney for dancing with him and went to retrieve his bomber jacket from coat check.

The others were lingering on the corner away from the bar. Califia was speaking to Xavier in hushed tones, and N'Jobu knew she wouldn't break up with him right then, but he prayed that it would be tonight. He hoped she would do it quickly because there was a fire in his spirit that he didn't think he could suppress for very long.

He prided himself on being respectful, but deep down he knew he could fuck her while she was still with Xavier. If she couldn't break up with him because she was scared, he knew he was willing to do it for her. He was a Prince who had never been denied what he wanted when it came to women. He wanted Califia. Wanted her bad. The way she kissed him told him she wanted him too. He felt empathy for her situation. Xavier was a long-term love that had soured. She needed to uproot the man and make room for N'Jobu. Watching the shaky couple speak to one another bugged the hell out of N'Jobu. Now that he tasted those lips and felt those thighs and hips, he was ready to bulldoze Xavier out of the way in a heartbeat.

"I think you should come home with me."

N'Jobu overheard Califia telling Xavier to go with her. Xavier, a little loopy in the legs was pushing her hands off of him.

"Naw, I'm going to hang out with Julian a little bit. I'll be home later," Xavier slurred, kissing Califia on her cheek.

"We'll be fine, Califia. I'll have him home no later than midnight. He won't turn into a pumpkin, I promise," Julian said waving goodnight to everyone. The two men lumbered off into the night laughing together, and N'Jobu eased his way over to Califia and Bakari.

Hugs were given, goodbyes were shared, and N'Jobu soon found himself walking to a BART station with Bakari and Califia. The ride to Xavier's apartment was mellow. They talked about the band, how good the music was and which pale ale or cider they liked the best.

In no time they were walking Califia up to Xavier's apartment.

"Hey, the Syfy channel is having a Godzilla marathon. You want to make popcorn and watch the next one coming on?" Califia suggested.

"Microwave or hot air?" Bakari asked.

"Hot air, with real butter," Califia said.

"You down?" Bakari asked N'Jobu.

He was. He would get a chance to see where Califia crashed, and spend a little more time with her, even if Bakari was there. The night was still young.

###

Xavier's place was small. The bathroom was inside their bedroom. N'Jobu relieved himself of the last vestiges of liquor in his system. Snacking on fresh popcorn and bottled water, he felt clear-headed and fully hydrated.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he couldn't help but stare at the double bed that Xavier shared with Califia. It was unmade. He pushed thoughts of them together in that space out of his head. She didn't want him anymore. There was no need to harbor any envy towards Xavier. According to Califia, he was a good dude, but not the one for her. On a folding chair near their bed, N'Jobu spotted a pair of skimpy bikini panties and a lace bra. He gritted his teeth. Why did she stay here if she didn't want him? She had a grandmother who had a house and friends with places. Hell, she could stay with him and Bakari.

He stopped his train of thought. Slow down, he told himself. She was a chick he wanted to dick down in the worst way. No need to be thinking roommates and shit. His lust was writing checks he knew his ass couldn't cash. He'd lusted after women before, but he hadn't given thoughts to moving them in. It was just his male ego wilding a bit at seeing where another man fucked Califia. He clenched his fists. She was going to be his soon. Stop tripping.

When he returned to the livingroom, Bakari was still curled up in blankets on a bean bag near a plush maroon couch where Califia was seated. They each had fresh bowls of popcorn. Califia passed N'Jobu his bowl.

"Lots of butter this time," she said. N'Jobu sat next to her, keeping his legs on the floor and away from Califia's legs which were curled on the couch. They got through half of a Godzilla movie on Monster Island when Bakari fell asleep, snoring into the bean bag.

"We should leave," N'Jobu said, staring at Bakari slumped low inside the beanbag, the blanket surrounding him covering his face.

"No rush, Xavier's not coming back tonight. You guys can crash here if you want."

"Your man knows Bakari very well, but he doesn't know me. That will probably not be cool with him."

He saw Califia flinch a bit when he called Xavier her man. He stared at her, glanced at her lips, then looked into her eyes again. He wanted to devour her lips.

"Should we talk about the kiss at the bar?" she asked.

"Only if you want to."

"I do."

He waited for her to speak. She was wearing a long button up Wonder Woman nightshirt and thick wool socks on her feet. Her hair was still blooming all over her head.

"It was wrong of me to do that. Especially since I'm still with someone. I shouldn't have put you in a messy situation."

"I don't care."

Califia blinked at him several times.

"You don't?"

"I like you a lot, Califia. I want to spend time with you. It just so happens you are with someone. As soon as you fix that, I will properly step to you."

Her mouth fell open, then shut, then opened again. N'Jobu reached over into her popcorn bowl, snagged a few buttery kernels and popped them into her mouth.

"I think of you all the time, Califia. And the way you kissed me tonight was…whoa."

She chuckled. He reached out for her hand. She looked down at him, then placed her left hand in his.

"What about you? Do you think of me?" The playful lilt in his voice moved her. He kissed her hand, still waiting for her to answer.

"I do, and I feel so guilty about it."

N'Jobu held up a hand to stop her from negative talk.

"The heart wants what the heart wants. Leave all the bad thoughts you have about your situation behind. People grow apart. It is natural. You say you are worried about not finding someone after you leave him. Who am I to you?"

Bakari snored loudly and shifted in the bean bag, but neither one of them was worried about him listening to their conversation. Once Bakari was knocked out, he was out.

"You don't want to answer me?"

"It's just a lot N'Jobu."

"I understand that. But…who am I to you?"

"Someone I'd like to know better."

"As a friend only?"

"No."

He put his bowl of popcorn on the floor and pulled a tense Califia onto his lap.

"Relax," he said holding her by her waist and legs.

"This is weird for me," she said.

"How so?"

"We've only hung out together a few times, but it feels intense each time. We know nothing about each other. And yet…"

"And yet what?"

She shrugged and hid her face in her hands.

"I don't know. It feels like it did when I was nine and had my first crush."

"I am honored to be your grown-up crush."

Califia giggled.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked.

She nodded and he lifted up his face and found her lips once more. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and his left hand held her face. The kissing this time was gentle, still filled with longing and exploration, but N'Jobu wanted to relish the moment without waking up Bakari. He made sure not to nibble or suck too hard on her neck, not wanting to leave love bites for Xavier to see in the morning. When the thought of Xavier crossed through his mind again, he broke from their kiss leaving Califia sighing in frustration.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

She nodded vigorously, and he kissed her again, licking the outline of her lips and then sucking on her tongue, tasting the salt and butter from their late-night snack. Her nipples had beaded through her nightgown, and N'Jobu reached up and tugged on each one through the cloth. He watched Califia bite back a moan when he touched her, so he tugged harder, looking at the protrusions. He unbuttoned the nightgown down to her belly, freeing her breasts. When he saw them in the glow of the television, he looked up at her face, his fingers pulling on each nipple. She did her best to remain silent, but she bit into her full lips, and the vision of that made him squeeze his eyes shut and shift her ass harder onto his dick.

Califia rotated her hips and ground herself into his lap, feeling the swelling of him push back on her.

"N'Jobu, suck on my nipples…please."

He obliged, his lush lips taking turns wrapping around each ripe nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue at varying speeds. He liked how big her nipples swelled, so he kept alternating his ministrations, sucking on one and tugging on the other, the pulling sensation so intense for her he guessed because she was whimpering up a storm on his lap. She started bouncing on his dick and he let one of her nipples slip from his mouth with a loud pop because it was too much for him. He wanted to play with her pussy, but that was too risky. They were already pushing it with Bakari on the floor covered up and snoring like a banshee.

"Damn," she uttered under her breath, her eyes finally opening back up to stare at him, "I can feel your dick….so…big," she gasped. He shifted her on his lap so that she was facing him, her thighs spread on either side of his hips. He could see and play with her big tits fully as she rocked on him. He didn't want to pull up her nightgown to see her panties. It was enough to have her grinding on him. He held her shoulders and alternated sucking on her tits and fondling them.

"Can I touch you?" she asked.

Holy Bast, he wanted her to. But he couldn't. He could barely contain himself with her jockeying on his lap. He didn't even want to lift up her gown and look at her pussy which had to be soaking her panties.

With his teeth set on edge, he whispered, "No."

The look on her face made him feel horrible like he had stolen a gift from her on Christmas like the Grinch. But then she twisted her bottom lip and bit on it again, and the look of denied pleasure she gave him made his dick jump in his pants and she felt it.

"Califia, sithandwa sam, you have me so turned on, I could cum right now."

"We could go into the bedroom," she said, lifting up. He yanked her back down hard by her hips. She gasped. His eyes narrowed when he looked at her.

"I'm not going into that bedroom with you. When I take you all the way, it will be in my bed. Understand?"

She nodded. The thought of that double bed brought out tight cords in his neck.

"Did you fuck him today?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth parted. But she didn't answer him.

He lifted up her nightgown in the back and slapped her ass hard with a wide-open palm. Her body lurched forward, forcing her to grip his shoulders for balance and she quickly glanced over at Bakari.

"Don't look at him. Look at me. Answer the question. Did you fuck Xavier today?"

He rubbed her full left ass cheek with his right hand, knowing the sting was wearing off, even as his dick swelled bigger from striking her. She took it like a big girl. He slapped her ass again in the same spot. She squeezed her eyelids shut, keeping all sound inside herself. He rubbed her ass tenderly, lifted up the smacked cheek and squeezed it. Damn this girl was too much for him.

"Hit me again and I'll tell you," she snarled at him.

N'Jobu felt his eyebrows raise up on his face. He gave her a nasty smile and struck her other ass cheek twice, hard enough to make her wince and suck on her teeth. He rubbed the tender flesh. Then squeezed both her round globes in his hands. He needed to end this soon.

"Tell me," he whispered. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. She picked up on it and ran with it.

"What if I did?"

She was gyrating on him and he did his best to stay on task, to not shut his eyes and let her dominate him for a while. She was pushing him to his limit. He knew she would, eventually. She started bouncing on him again, learning very quickly that he liked that. Her motion made her titties bounce too, and he sat there watching heaven on his lap. If he didn't get her off of him soon, he was going to nut in his pants. He was too old to have cum in his pants and not inside a woman he wanted. He yanked her by her hair and pulled her face closer to his.

It would be easy to take Bakari home in his car, then drive back to her in his own BMW and fuck the wokeness out of her. But this was not the time and most definitely was not the place. He twisted his fingers in her hair tighter, letting her know she'd better stop playing with him.

"Ow, Jobu…baby," she pleaded. Good God of the worlds. He loved it when she called him that. No one had ever called him Jobu. He was going to countdown and rejoice on the day he finally blew her back out.

"The question," he said.

"Yes. I did. I fucked him. Early this morning. I fucked him."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Why do you care?"

The corners of his mouth lifted in a wicked smile that made her bite her lip again. He released her hair, unfastened his pants and pulled down his boxers just enough to release his dick that bobbed against his stomach once it was freed. He grabbed her right hand and placed it on his cock. She squeezed it, gripping the swollen head so tight he gritted his teeth to keep from spilling all over her hand.

"This is your dick now. Understand? I don't want you fucking him ever again. You break up with him. I'm not going to rush you, Califia. But this will be waiting for you."

He let her stroke him. His dick was so slick with pre-cum that they both enjoyed the slippery sound of her hand running up and down his shiny length. She leaned in and kissed him while she stroked him.

"This mine?" she whispered in his ear.

"All yours," he said kneading her tits and plucking on her nipples once more.

She stopped playing with his dick and shoved her fingers into her panties.

"Don't you want to touch me here?"

He released her breasts and zipped up his pants. He drew her back in for another wet kiss then pulled away from her.

"When I touch you there and make you cum, you have to be a free woman."

Califia fastened her nightgown.

"You should go then," she said.

Califia shifted in his lap and stood up, grabbing the popcorn bowls and taking them into her kitchen. N'Jobu adjusted his private parts and woke Bakari up from the floor.

"Let's go, Bakari."

It took N'Jobu nearly ten minutes to get Bakari awake and shuffling to find his shoes. N'Jobu took Bakari's car keys from his pocket. Califia was back from the kitchen watching them.

"Do you need some help with him?" she asked N'Jobu.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Bakari fussed at her.

"I'm driving," N'Jobu said.

"Bet," Bakari said heading out the front door and down the stairs to get to his car.

N'Jobu stood by the open front door facing Califia. She didn't move towards him.

"I meant what I said. I won't rush you," he said.

"Okay."

A new awkwardness permeated the room. They both felt the shift in the air, the change in their interactions weighing heavily on them. She was not his woman, but he had staked a claim on her. Told her directly. She wanted him too, he was sure of that. The ball was in her court. He wouldn't act until she came to him first. For the first time in a long time, Prince N'Jobu Udaku was at the mercy of a woman for affection that he craved like air. He wanted….no, needed, he needed her to give herself to him. No strings. No wounded lover on her mind.

"Goodnight, Califia."

Chapter 9 HERE.

#blackpanther #wakanda #blackboysbloomthornsfirst #njobu #n'jobu #killmonger #erikkillmonger #udaku #tchaka #tchalla #blackpantherfanfic #blackpantherfanfiction #smut #fanfiction #marvel #marvelfanfiction #doramilaje #romance #sexy #blackfanfiction #n'jobu fanfic

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Passion burning, causing rapture of laughter Pressure building, falling faster and faster If I told you that you rock my world, I want you around me Would you let me call you my girl, my girlfriend, my girlfriend? I can give you the life you deserve, just say the word, baby And I got you, darling, I got you

1500 or Nothin—“Girl”

   October 5th, 20—

It is early morning, and I must write down my thoughts. I confess that I have not been consistent with writing in my journal as I had challenged myself to do while staying in this country. But there are so many distractions, (good ones!) that it is hard to sit still and just transcribe words onto paper.

I finally went to one of Bakari’s BSU meetings a few days ago. I admit that it actually turned out to be a productive use of my time. I met some interesting people. However, I embarrassed myself in front of a woman who is a good friend of Bakari. Her name is Califia Stevens. Bakari has known this woman since he was ten. They grew up together. She is a dancer for the group he drums for. He says she’s one of the best in the city.

I meet different women all the time, and I am usually very good at knowing where I stand with them, but Holy Bast, this woman, I feel like I’m wearing roller skates and trying to cross a road filled with marbles when I speak to her. I knew I was in trouble when I made the mistake of questioning why her father did not feed her while she was on a visit with him. She said he was in prison, and I swear to Sekmet, my face turned to stone. She noticed my kimoyo beads and then Andrea, the woman I am seeing now, rescued me from the quicksand of my ignorance.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but I feel like I made a horrible first impression and I need to redeem myself to her. She is so different. Very direct with people. Fierce. She came into the meeting towards the end, and the moment she walked in the door, I felt like the energy in the room shifted. She is very striking to look at. Her skin is so brown, like the deep dark red-brown clay near Warrior Falls back home. And she has these dark freckles all over her nose and cheeks. I have never met a Black woman with hair the natural color of cinnamon. She reminds me so much of someone from back home, and I just can’t remember who. She is both familiar and strange to me. Normally I would feel uneasy with people who keep me on edge, but there is something about her that intrigues me. She was fairly dismissive of me. The only time she took an interest was when she saw my beads.

I must make a note that she touched my hand to get a look at my beads, and she gave me a static electricity shock with her touch. I shall take that as a warning sign from Bast that Califia should be given a wide berth from me in the future. If I ever see her again. She and Bakari seem close, but he has never brought her around to the apartment like his other friends. She is very opinionated, and I must take a look at this book she came to the meeting to talk about. I have seen this writer Aarav on television. He seems pretty benign, but Califia was very heated about his message. I hear the term “anti-Black” being thrown around a lot. Aarav comes from immigrants and is Indian American, and I’m sure as a person of color himself, he must be aware of the problems Black Americans encounter at times. Califia called him a piece of shit. I don’t know if this is a fair assessment of someone she doesn’t know personally, but the BSU crowd didn’t challenge her assertion. Andrea has a copy of the book and will loan it to me. I will read it this weekend.

The rest of the time there I spoke with Andrea and her classmates. They are in the Literature Department. Really smart women. And Andrea, well, let’s just say that Renaissance Literature isn’t the only thing she’s good at.

Bakari seemed pleased that I finally attended a meeting. He is a good man. I am glad that we have become roommates and friends. When we moved in together last June, I wasn’t sure if I could take his “All Black Everything All The Time” energy. Now after five months, I can truly say he’s one of my closest friends here. The man is brilliant. He’ll probably end up an influential lobbyist in Washington one day. But he is sincere with the love of his people. He and Califia seem to have a shared sense of purpose. They really want to save Black people from… I don’t know what really, but they are passionate.

I am curious to know why Califia’s father is in prison. I know she has a full dance scholarship to SFSU, and Bakari told me her home life is a little sketchy. It must be difficult to live with a parent you love incarcerated for a long time. Bakari said her father has been in prison since she was thirteen. It’s part of why she and Bakari are so close. He wouldn’t divulge anything more out of respect for Califia’s privacy. Their relationship appears completely platonic. Califia talks to him like a younger sibling. But the other day he was talking about her, something trivial about a drumming rehearsal and how Califia never wants to listen to the drum cues and moves when she wants to, and I have to say, the gleam in his eye tells me he probably wishes they were something more. I could be reading more into it than there really is. He definitely admires her.

More soon.

N.U.

 N’Jobu left the pen he was using in between the pages of his journal and placed the leather-bound pages inside the drawer next to his bed and turned off his bedside lamp. His nude body slipped comfortably back under the silk plum-colored sheets and matching duvet. It was 5a.m., the sky just starting to lighten outside his bedroom window. The world was still quiet.

He felt a warm body shift next to his right side, and then Andrea’s arm was draped across him, her soft fingers caressing the hard planes of his chest. She allowed an index finger to circle his left nipple which hardened at her attention.

“You finished writing?” she whispered. Her short curly bob of jet black hair cascaded all around her face, and without her make-up on, she was even more gorgeous in N’Jobu’s eyes. He glanced down at her lips which were plump, but small. They turned him on because when he had his cock down her throat the night before, it just made his dick look even bigger and more powerful sliding in and out.

“Yes,” he answered.

Her fingers left his nipple and descended to his stomach, tracing the indentations of his six-pack abs, and then teased further down until she was gripping his already thickening cock in her hand. She gave two short tugs on the head, then a long and languid stroke.

“Damn, woman. You still hungry for more?” he laughed, pulling the covers back so he could watch her delicate hand work his length.

Andrea leaned in closer. He could see her full breasts and pert nipples just waiting for his tongue and touch. She cupped his balls and gave a slight squeeze and he moaned.

“N’Jobu, baby, you have such a pretty dick,” she said.

“You like this dick?”

“I love this dick,” she said.

“Why do you love this dick?” he asked.

N’Jobu was a verbal man when it came to sex. He liked to talk and be talked to, and it was hard to find women who were good at it without sounding like fake corny ass porn stars. However, Andrea was a woman who knew how to make that verbal shit sing.

She sat up and positioned herself between his legs, holding onto his dick and arching her back so he could see her ass in the air. N’Jobu felt his mouth part open as he released a deep sigh at the beauty of what she presented to him. She took her velvety tongue and licked him from his balls all the way up to the tip of his length.

“I love this dick because it’s so long and thick, Daddy. The head is so big, I can barely get my mouth around it…”

Andrea opened her lips and took in the large mushroom cap of his dick, her tongue playing with the head using teasing licks, and then sucking out the pre-cum that was already dripping from him.

“And baby, you have such a big fat sack, I love to feel your balls slapping against my ass…” she continued, now engulfing more of his cock into her warm mouth.

“Show me how much you love this dick,” he growled out, now gripping her hair with his left hand. Andrea slid her mouth further down, and began bobbing her head, her left hand holding her balance, her right hand still caressing his heavy balls. N’Jobu’s eyes alternated between watching her hallowed out cheeks bulging with his thickness and the jiggle in her round brown ass cheeks.

Andrea came up for air and stared into N’Jobu’s heavy-lidded eyes. His lush lips were twisted up in a way that tried to hold in deep moans from disturbing Bakari in the bedroom across the small hallway. It wasn’t working.

“You got me so wet,” Andrea said, catching her breath.

“Let me hear it then,” he said, releasing his grip on her hair and leaning back on his elbows. He watched her right hand release his twitching dick and snake between her legs. She took two fingers and plunged them into her slick opening. Wiggling her fingers around, she gazed at him with euphoric, almost dazed eyes, and they both could hear the wet slippery sounds so loud in the quiet room.

“You hear it, Daddy?” Andrea asked, adding a third finger.

“I hear your pussy baby,” N’Jobu said, gripping his own dick and fisting it slowly. Andrea arched her back a little more, just enough to make her cheeks bounce.

“You are a nasty, bitch, you know that? Playing with your pussy so early in the morning. Making all that cake bounce. You must want me to cum in your face. Huh? You want me to paint your face?”

Andrea squeezed her eyes shut as a long groan of “Ohhhhh!!” escaped from her mouth. Her fingers were working faster.

“N’Jobu, you got my pussy dripping!!”

She was panting now, rather loud.

“Shh, keep it down,” he said.

“I can’t!” she whined, her eyes now open and focused on his hand beating his thick meat in front of her face.

The tightening in his balls let him know he couldn’t hold out much longer. He really wanted to slide a condom on and beat her cheeks up hard and fast from behind, break her fucking back if he could…but the sweet sounds of her fingers plunging in and out of her swollen pussy lips just pushed him too far.

“Take this, cum! Take it…Fuck!!” he hollered at her, yanking her hair to pull her face back as thick spurts of creamy white splashed across her face. Andrea opened her mouth to catch a lot of it. He groaned louder than he wanted to, still squeezing out the last drops of his seed on her face. His impressive cumload made Andrea smile, her quick tongue licking up the salty-sweet semen from her lips.

“Come sit on my face,” he said, and Andrea scrambled up his body like she was climbing a tree in a park and ground her sopping clit and juicy vulva onto N’Jobu’s full lips and long tongue. His hands held her ass cheeks as he drove his tongue deep inside of her for a few deep probes, and then he was sucking on her swollen clit with his entire mouth.

It didn’t take long for Andrea to cum, drowning his mouth and face with her juices. N’Jobu knew he would have to apologize to Bakari again. No matter how quiet he tried to have sex in his bedroom, it never worked out. It was what it was.

Chapter 3 HERE

#blackpanther #blackpantherfanfic #BlackBoysBloomThornsFirst #Wakanda #wakandaforever #njobu #killmonger #erikkillmonger #uzumakirebellion #n'jobu #n'jobu fanfic

[imreadyfortchalla2018]

Shameless Foreigner

After finally overcoming much anxiety and insecurity about positing this, I'm finally sharing my first Black Panther fanfic! It's on Wattpad, and the post to the link is below this post. I appreciate any support, reads, and constructive criticism !

Happy reading ! ☺️

#Shameless Foreigner #blackpantherfanfic

[imreadyfortchalla2018]

I finally made a T'Challa/BP fanfic.

#blackpantherfanfic #tchallafanfic

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First (Chapter 11)

"I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You're mine Mine I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you anyhow And I don't care If you don't want me I'm yours right now I'm yours right now"

Alice Smith re-make—"I Put a Spell on You"

N'Jobu parked his car across the street from Xavier's small apartment complex. He saw Califia's bike sitting in a carport in front of the units. He waited a few minutes to get his bearings and called her number again through his car. She picked up after the fourth ring.

"Hey," she said, her voice airy and light.

"You made it to your destination."

"Yeah. I told you I could handle a little rain."

"True."

"I appreciate your concern though. Are you still driving home?"

"No. Actually, I am right outside."

"Outside?"

He heard her moving around inside the apartment through the phone and then the front door opened. She walked out onto the top of the stairs and looked towards the street. N'Jobu stepped out of his car and walked towards the apartment building. He watched Califia ease her way down the stairs.

He met her at the bottom step and she had a slight grin on her face.

"You were able to catch up."

"Something like that."

His eyes glanced up at the open door of the apartment.

"Why are you here?"

Her eyes went downcast as she fidgeted the toes of her bare feet on the step.

"Xavier went to San Diego for the weekend with his friends. I have some relatives who are staying over at my grandmother's and I really don't want to be around them the next two days, so I'm crashing here so I can study in peace."

Her eyes searched his and he tried to act as if it didn't bother him, but it did.

"Are you really broken up, or is this a trial separation?"

"We are not together. He knows I'm here. After Sunday, I'm leaving the key and I'll be at my grandmother's."

He didn't like her being there. It didn't matter if Xavier was gone. She was still here, in his space. Their energy together would still be surrounding her. She would be sleeping in his bed.

He didn't have the right to be upset that she was here, but he was feeling a particular way. A new sensation actually. He was feeling jealous. Something he had never been before. It was a cold prickly sensation, this idea of possibly losing her to someone else, someone unworthy. In his heart, he felt like she was his, and even the specter of Xavier hovering in her consciousness was making him queasy inside. It also made him feel weak, something he could never be.

"I want to go out with you."

He wanted to kick himself, that was not the smoothest line to give her as his words came out in a needy rush. But she gave him a beatific smile and his heart snapped back into a place of ease.

"When?" she asked.

Califia's eyes crinkled with such a look of bliss that N'Jobu wanted to hug her. His conversation with Bakari about her life swirled inside his head. Her trying to hold a world together for her father, an estranged mother thousands of miles away, and her sense of responsibility towards others must be overwhelming. Where did she go to find comfort for herself? Snatch a little happiness for herself?

He felt his eyes soften as he took in her face. He sauntered closer to her, the step she was perched on made them stand eye to eye. Xavier was not here. She wanted to study alone and away from distractions. She deserved this peace, not his secret irrational jealousy.

"You have a lot going on and I can be flexible for you. Tell me when and—"

"Next Saturday, after my performance. Show starts at seven and ends around nine. Come see me dance and we can go eat afterward. I know a spot that stays open late. If that's okay with you."

"That is excellent with me….oh, wait. I apologize, I made plans for next Saturday. How about Sunday?"

"That will work. Same deal. Dinner after the show."

"Okay, next Sunday."

She blinked and closed her eyes, touching her eyelashes.

"I just got hit with a raindrop," she said, rubbing her eye.

More heavy sprinkling fell around them, and N'Jobu wiped her eye for her then held her face in his hand.

"You are something else, Califia," he said.

Her head tilted to the side a bit and she touched his hand with her own.

"So are you."

He went for it, pressing his lips to hers, closing his eyes and only wanting her in his arms. The warmth of their kiss bloomed into a sweet tangling of full lips, raindrops, teasing tongues, gentle sighs of contentment, and a yearning for more. His arms swept down to surround her waist as her hands curled around his neck.

Sweet turned into savory, and savory became sensual as N'Jobu released her lips and dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive curve of Califia's ear. He liked how she responded by arching her neck and soon his tongue was tracing the skin there and then nipping at it with teasing bites. More water fell from the sky but they didn't care about it. Califia sucked in a breath between her teeth when he began nibbling on her neck. He was going to leave a mark on purpose this time, claiming her with his love bites.

She pulled his face away from her neck just so she could look into his eyes again. What he saw reflected back to his own eyes were all the things he was feeling in that moment; the excitement of being with someone new, someone who turned on his mind as much as his body.

"You better go inside. I'll call you," he said. She nodded but kissed him again, this time holding his face with her hands, her tongue seeking out his. His hands reached down and squeezed her ass. He heard and felt her gasp inside his mouth and he took that opportunity to push her into him. Her body writhed against his and that was his signal to stop.

"Go in before you get us in trouble out here, girl."

She pouted and nipped at his lips with her teeth, causing him to groan a tiny bit. She started sucking on his bottom lip and that's when he slapped her ass. She released his lip and her head dropped onto his shoulder and he felt her body shudder. They were both damp from the slight precipitation.

"Slap my ass again, baby," her throaty voice made him glance around the apartment complex and the street. No one was around, and it was past midnight. It was just them and the light rain. With her pressed into him, he used his right hand to slap both her ass cheeks. Her mouth was jammed into his shoulder suppressing an intense squeal. He rubbed both ass cheeks with wide gentle circles. Her thin leggings were soaked and he allowed his hand to squeeze the cleft of her right ass cheek. He whispered in her ear.

"You have to let me know when to stop if it gets to be too much, use a word to let me know."

"Just spank me, I'll let you know."

"No, you have to give me a safe word. I'm serious. Any word."

Both his hands traced her plump behind, rubbing, squeezing, and lifting up the cheeks.

"Red."

Red was easy. Basic.

Califia poked out her behind a bit, still leaning her head into his shoulder. He took his right hand and rubbed her left cheek again. He could feel her tensing up, waiting for the sharp pain to come. He gave it to her, spanking each cheek rhythmically, allowing space between each hard slap to rub, knead, and soothe her. She bit into his jacket, using all the power she could muster to keep from crying out to the entire neighborhood.

They created a satisfying pattern of spanking and nurturing, and he couldn't believe she had him outside in the middle of the night, on her ex-boyfriend's apartment steps letting him do this to her for nearly twenty minutes. He kept the spanking at a beginner's level for her with an occasional shock of intense contact. When that happened, she would gasp into his ear and say "Bay-beeee," with such carnal longing that it made his knees shake.

"You like this?" he asked, the unsated hunger in his voice hard to disguise.

"Yes!"

"Tell me you like it," he hissed into her ear.

"I like it…I like it…bay-beeee…"

"Tell me all this ass is mine…say it!"

"It's all yours, it's all yours…"

"You like having this fat ass spanked, huh?'

"Yes! Don't stop…huhnnnn…don't stop!"

He checked in with her after every third slap, and at one point he tilted her head back to look at her face. Her eyes were on the cusp of going unfocused. He decided to stop. It was enough for her even without her saying "red". He hugged Califia tight, holding up all her weight for her, allowing her to rest and regain her own physical bearings again.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Good. I feel like I'm drunk to be honest."

The rain had become a light sprinkle once more. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her wet face against his once more.

"I feel, …I feel hot all over…but the rain is cooling me at the same time. It feels really good. Next time, I want you to go harder."

"You're killing me," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed him again, licking his lips, sucking the tip of his tongue, and giving light scratches to the back of his neck with her fingernails. They weren't fancy French tipped wonders like Serah's, but the way she had him purring was good enough in her book.

"Can you walk up the steps by yourself?"

"Yeah, I can."

He pulled away from her.

"Go," he said, pushing her back up the steps.

She held onto the railing and made exaggerated lunges up the steps, flexing her butt just to tease him.

"Goodnight, N'Jobu," she said at the top of the stairs.

"Goodnight, Califia."

She closed the door. Once she was gone, N'Jobu tumbled back away from the steps.

"Whoo, shit," he mumbled, staring back up at the apartment. He started laughing as he walked across the street, taken by surprise at what just transpired.

When he got inside his car it was the first time he noticed how tight his erection was in his pants. He had been so focused on Califia and the pleasure she received just listening to her being spanked that he had lost track of his own physical sensations, even the rainwater that drenched his clothes and face. His cell phone vibrated and he picked it up. Califia had sent him something. He swiped his phone and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets. She had texted him a picture of herself bent at the waist, her leggings and panties pulled down to her knees with her butt thrust out. There were deep red marks on both round cheeks. He tapped the photo to make it bigger just to make sure, and yes, he could see it, the delicate curve of her vulva.

Look what you did, lol!

He read the text again and then stared at the picture.

"Damn, baby," he said. He couldn't wait to get back home. He needed release right away. Undoing the buttons on his pants and zipping down his fly, he glanced around his car. No one could see him. He reached into his boxers and pulled out a brick hard dick. This girl let him spank her in the rain and sent him proof of his markings on her ass. He made the picture even bigger just to try and catch a better glimpse of her pussy.

He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock and imagined lining himself up against her opening. He would have one hand on her neck pushing her down, and the other gripping his dick and dragging it up and down on her entrance. Her pussy looked fat and inviting, and he wondered if she realized that her cell camera had taken more than just her reddened backside.

She probably pulled down her stuff and took a quick snap, not even noticing her juicy slit was showing. He bet that she probably had a mean arch, and shit, what would it be like to sink into her while she held her cheeks open with her own hands, letting him pound that ass to shreds?

She told him she wanted him to spank her harder next time, and that's all it took for him to cum in his car, shooting thick ribbons of his seed all over his pants and leather seat.

"Ah dammit!" he moaned, jerking out the last spillage of cum. He reached behind his seat and rummaged inside his gym bag, pulling out a hand towel. He wiped himself and the seat and balled up the towel, stuffing it back inside the gym bag. He started laughing again and looked up towards the apartment. She was probably up there now, legs open and rubbing tight circles on herself. What he wouldn't give to watch her writhing on a bed and calling out his name. Only his name.

He couldn't wait to see her again.

###

All the training, clean eating, late night rehearsals, foot aches, backaches, and no dick came down to this night.

Califia sat on the floor of the theater dressing room stretching out her legs. Other dancers milled around, stretching, checking the tape on their ankles, flexing arms and shoulders, fixing hair and make-up too.

Califia had Soliel braid her hair tight with cowrie shells and gold beads. She had a buttload of costume changes and one of the numbers required her to wear an exaggerated paper mache mask that smelled like musty armpits.

Standing up, Califia flexed her ankles and then rolled her neck and shoulders. The nervous energy was eating her up like it always did before a performance. She ran choreography through her head, especially the final piece she was in. Rolita was chilling in the green room where she would stay and watch the show on a monitor until it was time for her to join Califia onstage where she would sing.

Califia wasn't in the first number and this irritated her because the director changed the order of performances the week before. She always preferred to come out of the box like a thoroughbred in the first dance, releasing pent-up nerves so that she could ease into her natural performance groove. Instead, she would be waiting on deck going stir crazy hanging onto her dance edge.

Most of her friends would catch the show over the first weekend. She made sure to have a ticket ready for N'Jobu at the box office for Sunday's performance.

The stage manager pulled all the dancers together to give last minute info, and then their dance teacher had them say a group prayer. Califia then went to sit with Rolita in the green room.

"How are you?" Rolita asked.

"You know how it is."

"Reese is already here. They'll pull him in after intermission. Layla and Bonnie will be here by eight."

"Cutting it close."

"If they're late, Reese and I can do it alone."

"But it sounds so good when they sing back-up for you."

"I know."

"Don't forget to stay low when I do that last turn, I almost kicked you in the head at dress rehearsal."

"If you kick me, I'll pretend it was part of the choreography."

They both watched the opening number, a slick throwback of 1950's swing dancing in the middle of an old-fashioned civil rights march performed to an old Kendrick Lamar track. The irony of the song was that nothing had really changed even though Lamar's earnest chorus of "It's gonna be alright" boomed throughout the theater. Califia opted not to participate in that number because it involved some dancers playing cops and going after other dancers with batons. There were some tricky onstage costume changes that made the civil rights dancers become modern citizens but the cops stayed the same.

Once Califia saw the cue that it was time for her to be in the wings on deck, she left Rolita to join the next number. She did a short meditation to focus her mind and align her thoughts with her body and the spirit of the entire program. She checked one last time for the security of the straight black wig she had pinned tight to her head. She had another female dancer check the back of the black skirt she wore. It came down to her knees. Her black leotard was brand new, ultra-thin and itchy. She couldn't wait to change out of it.

"Girl, your make-up is on point. Who did your eyes?"

Califia looked over at Patrice, one of the best dancers in their class who was looking all in Califia's face. Califia loved performing with Patrice because that girl made everyone work harder to stay on her level. If Califia considered herself the equivalent of Venus Williams in their group, then Patrice was the Serena Williams hands down.

They both came into the program as eager freshmen trying to gain top dog spots. Both were competitive and both could be petty to one another when they were younger. But there came a point where they both had to concede that each of them had particular skillsets that worked in their favor. Patrice had the better technical skills because Califia came to dance later in her teens. But Califia had personality and passion. Together they were fire.

Califia batted her lashes at Patrice.

"I did it myself."

"Bitch don't lie, Katy did that."

Katy was busy running up and down the line of dancers checking her work.

"Nope Patrice, Califia actually did it herself this time," tossed Katy over her shoulder.

Califia stuck her tongue out at Patrice. Patrice stepped closer to her.

"You ready to do this?" asked Patrice.

Califia held out her pinky finger, and Patrice hooked hers with it, a good luck tradition they had developed over the years.

"Break a titty, hoe," Califia said, and Patrice fell out laughing.

###

The music went on first with a voice-over narration done by a drama student. The music was a salsa-tinged number with funk undertones. The drama student recited a poem by a poet Califia didn't know, but it worked in time to the music, and by the time the stage lights came on and Califia followed Patrice's lead front and center, she already knew that they had kicked the show up a notch.

There were seven dancers in this piece, all women, and all wearing the same long straight wig and black skirts. Califia wasn't sure what aesthetic the wig was bringing, but she had fun swinging around the stringy hair.

The stage lights were blinding, so Califia couldn't see the audience properly, but she knew it was a packed house because she could hear and feel the energy in the room. The music had everyone hyped, and when an audience was hyped, Califia and Patrice would always take their dancing to another level. And right at that moment, Patrice had gone supernova, dragging Califia with her. They swirled their skirts, flipped their fake Becky hair on their Black girl heads and tried their best to gas the other one up by yelling "Aye!" every time one of them rolled their hips with an extra booty dip that was not part of the original choreography.

Halfway through that performance, Califia was actually able to breathe easy, the thoroughbred in her was able to stretch out those legs and run the way she needed to. A man in the audience, probably a person of proud Latino ancestry called out "Más te vale bailar!" Califia hollered back, "Estoy cocinando, Papi Chulo!" and only those who knew Spanish laughed.

When Califia's first performance of the night was done, she knew the rest of the evening would be a breeze. The first hour she had the heavy load of being in several numbers almost back to back. By the intermission she had time to freshen up, change, and check in with Rolita. The backup singers arrived on time and all she had to do now was perform two more background dancer work and then wait for her solo at the end.

###

He didn't see her in the opening number.

N'Jobu sat with Bridgette on the far left of the McKenna theater with a full and eager audience. The restaurant date on the Wharf went well and he was surprised when Bridgette sprung the dance tickets on him. He considered blowing off the tickets and taking Bridgette for a nice drive out of the city, but she was excited about going, and truth be told, he did want to see the opening night to support Califia. He had sent her a text earlier in the day wishing her luck and was bummed when he missed a call from her right before he left for dinner with Bridgette.

Normally he would feel no hesitation about going to a place where he knew another woman he had fooled around with would be, but something in the back of his mind made him feel cautious. Califia would have no idea he was there, but he still had reservations. He kept hearing Bakari's warning in his head.

Bridgette looked amazing in a lavender wrap-around dress and she held his hand in her lap as they watched the first performance together. The dancing was upbeat despite the subject matter of police brutality. The program he held in his lap said the piece was called "Living While Black".

He clapped politely when it was over and then Bridgette curled her fingers into his, holding part of his arm against her shoulder. The lights went out and heavy salsa rhythms surrounded the audience. Some poetry was recited and when the lights came back up, a group of women stormed the stage, their dance moves aggressive and commanding the attention of everyone. N'Jobu felt in his gut that Califia had to be in this number, even though all the women had the same hair and skirts. He was able to narrow his guess to three women with clear Black body types, and then a grin spread on his face when one woman rolled her hips the way he knew Califia could, and when he heard her voice yell "Aye!" to another dancer who twirled around her, N'Jobu found himself rocking in his seat to the music.

Bridgette was into the performance too, snapping her fingers, her head bopping in time to the music.

"This makes you want to get up and move!" she told N'Jobu.

"That's got to be Califia," N'Jobu said.

"Califia?"

"She's a friend of Bakari. The dancer that Gabriela Amador was with at City Lights. That's her on the right."

"Oh, her. That's right. You know her?"

"Yes."

"You can definitely pick out the Black women up there, they are showing out right now," she said.

N'Jobu kept his eyes on Califia the rest of the night. He was finally able to see the totality of her dancing gifts, and she was a beast. During one futuristic number, her moves were so fast and tight that it took N'Jobu's breath away. He leaned forward in his seat trying to take in every step she made. Bridgette was singing along to the song.

"Yasss! 'Take it down, wanna see you, work it, oh my god, pose bitch!' This is a forever mood, N'Jobu!"

He had no idea what Bridgette meant by "forever mood", but she was enthralled with Califia cutting up on stage, so it must've meant something good.

"She is killing it!" Bridgette said.

N'Jobu could only nod and be mesmerized.

###

Rolita had changed into a traditional Yurok bark skirt decorated with seashells and dried juniper berries that hung on long strings. Ropes of shell necklaces hung across her neck and chest as she placed a small woven cap on top of her head. Rolita's back up singers, Bonnie and Layla wore simple white maxi dresses. Reese, the guitar player, was already placed on the stage waiting for his cue.

Califia wore a simple sleeveless leotard that was very close to her skin tone. She checked to make sure the shells and beads in her hair were secure and then she held hands with Rolita and the other two women.

Rolita took a deep breath and so did Califia. This was not their first time collaborating together, but it was the first time performing in a venue like the McKenna theater to an audience of that size and cultural make-up. Califia and Rolita tended to perform in their own communities. Rolita had concerns about wearing traditional clothing and the stereotypes of Native culture being seen as primitive to the white gaze. Califia assured her that they would be fine and that the best way to combat ignorance was to be truthful and start their performance being real as fuck and going all out. Califia originally wanted to perform naked, but the director and school nixed that idea. She offered to paint her body but the university still said no. She spent a pretty penny finding dance clothing that would make her look as close to nude as possible. The way her nipples were sticking out and the way the thong cut of her leotard revealed her entire ass, she might as well have been buck naked.

Patrice came up to Califia right before she stepped on stage.

"Stunt on them, sis," Patrice said hugging her.

"I will," Califia said. A special make-up filled with pyrite dust was sprinkled on Califia's skin to represent gold dust.

The stage manager swept in waving her hands at Rolita and Califia. Showtime.

Califia followed Rolita, and a stagehand gave mics to Rolita and her back up singers. Entering stage left, Rolita handed her mic to Bonnie and picked up a sage bundle that sat on the stage floor inside an abalone shell. She lit the sage and purified Califia and herself, blowing tendrils of smoke into Califia's face, then waving her hand to smudge herself also.

When she was done, she put the sage back into the abalone to burn out as she took back her mic.

"My name is Rolita Nose. I am a member of the Yurok tribe, the original people of this land that you settlers sit on."

Califia could here a few polite coughs and murmurs in the audience.

"We would like to dedicate this performance to our ancestors, my people who were here first and to my fellow Yurok who still survive and thrive on this land, our land. And to Califia's ancestors who were stolen and enslaved here, and to her people who today fight the good fight. We are still here, and our ancestors stand with us tonight."

Someone in the audience clapped and shouted "Yes!" as another person gave a loud "Shhhh!"

Rolita then said a Yurok prayer in her own language. Califia shook out her arms and gave Rolita another hug. They pressed their foreheads together and Reese began strumming chords on his electric guitar. Bonnie and Layla began to hum the opening riff as Califia took a step back behind the curtain to breathe.

Projected onscreen in the back of the stage was a giant outline of Americas with Africa inside of it. Califia waited for Rolita to sing the first line of "I Put a Spell on You", and when she heard it, she spun out onto the stage and gave it her all.

###

"Ooh, they are serious," Bridgette whispered to N'Jobu when Rolita called the audience settlers.

N'Jobu let Rolita's words sink in. Their intensity rattled something in him. When he saw Califia, he had to do a double take because he thought she was naked. Every curve and muscle stood out. Her body was incredible. She could be a Dora Milaje. He imagined being in Wakanda or traveling with his family and having her protect him. Having her be with him for life. He snapped to attention at that random thought.

Rolita held the mic up to her lips and the most unforgettable sounding voice caressed his ears, Before he could even indulge in the haunting vocals, Califia spun out and just seized the audience in her hands with her exquisite interpretation of the song.

N'Jobu dropped Bridgette's hand and sat forward in his seat, his breath caught in his throat. There was a delicate, almost fragile and yet assertive quality to the dancing. Califia incorporated ballet-like footwork with sweeping west African influenced leaps. It was like she was bringing them a blend of Europe and Africa, forcing them to witness a forced hybrid of movement. She matched the intensity of Rolita's singing, and what had always been a quirky old song became a searing indictment of history, culture, and a great demand that the audience remember what they saw and heard on this night.

Califia stopped in the center of the stage and looked directly out into the theater, her face filled with rage and curiously enough, a gentle look of unrequited love. She then lifted her right leg up into a straight 180 in the air and spun in an entire circle with just her toes and the audience gasped and clapped as she twisted herself and the music into manna for them to eat. As if she were telling them, Yes, you will fill your bellies with this and it will nourish you in ways that you didn't think you needed.

Rolita's voice was the sauce that made the performance even more special, the heartbreak and yearning and sense of betrayal. She moved to be near the front of the stage like she was really putting a spell over them with her vocals. Reaching out her fingers like she was casting a divination upon them, she sank down to her knees throwing up her hand and head just as Califia leaped into a Chinese split above her. Califia held one arm above her head as she leaped, her other hand cast downward, and in that split second, it appeared that the two women touched fingers and the crowd went ballistic, clapping as Califia completed a series of turns, tossing in a capoeira move and then walking like a golden Queen towards Rolita where the music ended as they touched hands again.

The lights went out and the entire McKenna theater leaped to their feet, N'Jobu being one of the first ones to jump up. The standing ovation going for a full minute before the lights came back on where they could all see Rolita and Califia holding hands and taking a bow. The ovation continued and it appeared to overwhelm Rolita and Califia as they both hugged and wiped tears from their eyes.

"Oh my God, oh, my God," Bridgette said, staring at him with tears streaming down her face. She reached up her hand and wiped tears from his eyes. N'Jobu smiled and wiped his eyes for himself.

"That was incredible," he said.

"Look at my hands, I'm shaking," Bridgette said.

The clapping died down as Rolita and Califia and their little entourage left the stage. Very quickly, the entire troupe of dancers from the show returned to the stage for a final bow with more rounds of applause and then it was over.

N'Jobu had to sit down for a moment to collect himself. Bridgette had her compact out, fixing her eye make-up and smiling at him.

"I'm so glad we came to see this. Gabriela did not lie. Do you think we can go see her?"

N'Jobu stared at Bridgette.

"Who? Califia?"

"Yes, her and the singer. I want to let them know how amazing they were. A sistah needs to hear it from another sistah sometimes," she laughed.

Bridgette held a hand to her chest. She was really feeling the moment. So was N'Jobu. Yes, he wanted to wait for Califia and tell her all the things Bridgette wanted to say, but he didn't want to do it with Bridgette there.

"They might take awhile coming out to leave, maybe you should just email the department or hit them up on social media."

"Oh, come on, don't you want to tell your friend in person? We're here. Let's go wait in the lobby."

Bridgette slung her purse over her shoulders and reached out for N'Jobu's hand.

"C'mon," she said.

He took her hand and they walked out of the theater and into the lobby.

###

Backstage Califia was flying high like an eagle. In all her four years in the dance department, this was by far her best performance night. Not only for her stamina in the number of pieces she danced in, but for that closing with Rolita. She co-choreographed the number with her teacher, and along the way, there were disagreements about what should stay and go, but she was so pleased with the final outcome and the crowd's response. She would look at recorded footage of it later to see if there were any things she needed to change, but the fact that she didn't kick Rolita with her leap was the best part.

She changed into an oversized dark blue tracksuit and her purple Chuck Taylors. Tossing a beanie on her head, she walked out into the lobby with Rolita.

"I'm hungry," she told Rolita.

"Tacos?"

"Tacos," she said slinging a retro fanny pack around her waist.

They both received congratulatory words from patrons as they squeezed through theater stragglers who were still milling around and talking about the show.

"Can we drink too?" Califia asked.

"I have church tomorrow," Rolita said.

Califia pretended to throw a fit.

"Califia!"

She and Rolita turned and saw N'Jobu waving at them from outside the theater doors. Califia grabbed Rolita's hand and ran towards him. She was about to hug him with overzealous enthusiasm. In her mind, she thought he had blown off his plans just to be with her, and then she saw Bridgette's arm linked in his and her momentum cut in half. If there was a record scratch moment to be had, this was it.

N'Jobu stepped forward and gave her the most reserved hug.

"Congratulations on that performance," he said.

He stepped to Rolita and gave her a hug too.

Bridgette's arm automatically returned to his when he was done greeting them.

"Hey, N'Jobu," Califia said, all the wind knocked out of her sails.

"This is Bridgette, she got us the tickets tonight as a surprise. She wanted to meet you."

Califia forced a smile on her face as she focused her eyes on Bridgette.

"So cool to meet you both. You were so great. It made both of us cry," she said holding out her hand to Califia.

Califia shook her hand, followed by Rolita. N'Jobu was scratching his face in a nervous gesture.

"I'm happy to have made you cry," she said, her eyes not leaving N'Jobu's.

"Rolita, you have such a gift in your voice. You are truly blessed," he said.

Rolita gave a cheesy grin as both Bridgette and N'Jobu spoke to her. Califia could only stare at N'Jobu and his woman friend, wondering who she herself was in this scenario. Who did she want to be? Andrea, or Serah? The twisted feeling in her gut made her try to play off the annoyed feeling she had. She wasn't angry. Not exactly. He had told her he had prior plans. He wasn't the one who bought their tickets. He was just doing his usual thing and his "friend" had tickets. He loved the show and loved her work in particular. That was fine. That was okay. She couldn't even concentrate on what anyone was saying, she just kept staring at N'Jobu's face. He was just a guy, relax.

But she couldn't relax. She wanted him to hug her and kiss her, take her hand in his and whisk her off somewhere special. Just the two of them.

But no.

He had come to the show with someone else and was leaving with someone else, perhaps going off to have dinner and drinks and great conversation. That was what she wanted to do on Sunday. Now she felt like their date tomorrow would be a second-rate copy-cat version of the one he was on now.

All the texting and talking they had done all week felt disingenuous to her now. He had read the Angela Davis book first and they spent that week talking about Angela's career, her other work, and why womanist theory mattered to Califia. And he had been so engaging over the phone. Their talks all week never ventured into the sexual realm, in fact, they didn't even speak about the picture she sent him.

God. How stupid could she be? N'Jobu probably had a slew of nudes and nasty texts on his phone already. How special could she be? And look at this big Goddess bitch right here. Bridgette. Looking like a whole thick ass snack in that dress. They would probably be smashing later, and she would ride that fat dick, and he would spank her until she was cumming…

N'Jobu was staring at her.

"Yeah?" Califia said, trying to remember what the hell anyone else had said while she had undergone a brain fart of jealous thoughts.

"You okay?" he said giving her a guarded look.

"Um, I'm tired. Yeah. Thanks for checking out the show. We gotta dip. Nice to meet you, Bridgette."

"It was great to meet you, ladies, too," Bridgette said. N'Jobu hugged Rolita again, and then he leaned in and hugged Califia, whispering in her ear, "I'll call you later."

Bridgette was holding N'Jobu's hand as they walked away in the opposite direction.

"That was awkward. I felt some tension there," Rolita said.

"Let's go eat."

"You don't want to talk about what just happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Aren't you supposed to be wanting to hook up with him?"

Califia didn't say anything, just started walking towards the nearest BART station.

"I know you're not okay with him being with other women. You should tell him."

She was Andrea right now. This is what that shit felt like. When Serah came into that apartment months ago after N'Jobu had screwed the shit out of Andrea, this was how Andrea must've felt when he told her to leave so he could be with Serah next. Califia had sat on N'Jobu's loveseat and laughed at her. No, she needed to be a bad bitch like Serah.

So what if this nigga had hoes around the world? He wasn't in a committed relationship, didn't seem interested in a committed relationship, and he was honest about his shit. She shook her head. She really didn't want to deal with community dick. She didn't need drama created on her end. Maybe it would be better to see other dudes who weren't interested in rotating women around a schedule. Or maybe, …maybe she needed a break from men. She was graduating in June and a new chapter in her life would start. Maybe it was best to stay celibate and single and focus on only her needs.

Who was she kidding? What she needed was him spanking her again, that sweet hot pain spreading from her ass to her back, from her thighs to her nipples and her face. She could just shiver with excitement thinking about last week and his hands on her. He seemed shocked at how fast she had taken to being spanked, but what he didn't know was that she craved it. A previous boyfriend before Xavier used to spank her and she loved it. She just didn't like the guy well enough to keep him for long. She tried to get Xavier into it because most guys enjoyed the occasional ass slapping in the middle of coitus, but to get that consistent flow? Priceless. Xavier was not the guy for the job though, he couldn't get with it.

What amped her the most about it now was how fast she took it from N'Jobu and how fast she could get into that subspace sensation, that heady trippy place of peace that spanking often took her. It was a high better than weed. She didn't want to give that up. It was too hard to find dudes open to that type of stuff. N'Jobu was under the impression that she was a newbie to that type of kink. If only he knew.

Califia and Rolita ate tacos and talked about the show, and when they parted, she was determined to be a big girl, a boss like Serah. She wanted N'Jobu. She was going to have to navigate and reign in her feelings about him seeing other people. She enjoyed talking to him about books and school. She was eager to sleep with him too and desperately wanted to wear any and all marks from his hand on her bottom.

Could they make it work?

###

In his shower at home, N'Jobu rested his arm against the tile allowing warm water to rush down his back. After dropping Bridgette home at her apartment, he came home and stared at Califia's picture on his phone. He replayed the beauty of her dancing tonight, the passion she had on her face on that stage. He thought of the way she came running to him when he called her outside the theater. That expression of happiness he felt come over his own face at seeing her.

It felt like a punch in the heart when she reached him outside the theater and saw him standing with Bridgette. In an instant he watched her face turn from joy to sadness. He never wanted to see that look on her face again. Ever.

Driving home in his car he deleted all the numbers on his phone that belonged to any woman he was currently fucking. All except Serah. Only because she was now serious about a man she met in Florida, and their relationship had been over for some time in that way.

From here on out until the moment he was summoned home, his only woman was going to be Califia Stevens. He himself may just be a Prince, but he was determined to make her his Queen for as long as his time in the States permitted.

Revisiting her picture, seeing the marks he made on her, experiencing her willingness to go there with him no matter where they were…that had him in his shower, tugging on himself, fondling his balls, imagining all the nasty things he wanted to do to that woman. He turned off the water for a moment, just so he could enjoy the steam that engulfed him. The heat felt so good to his skin, he imagined it being the embrace of Califia, her hugging him from behind, her hands snaking around his middle and dropping down to grip him, stroke his length for him. He could hear the sound of her voice when he spanked her, wished he had been bold enough to stick his hands down her leggings and finger her. How hot would she look if he made her bend over the wing-backed chair in his bedroom, make her pull her panties down just to her knees, and then use his belt to make her cry out his name?

His mouth flew open as he felt the surging in his cock, his balls rising up at just the image of her bent over, ass jutting out, and her pussy open for him…

He watched his cum splash onto the tile, the heavy drops falling were loud to his sensitive ears. He should be inside of her. He wanted to be inside of her…her mind, her heart, and that warrior body.

Refreshed and clean, N'Jobu checked his cell. Califia hadn't responded to his call or message. She and Rolita must be still busy. He checked his kimoyo beads. His sister-in-law was finally free to talk. Bakari was at Shavonne's for the night. He could speak in peace and in private inside the apartment.

Getting comfortable on his couch, he called home. It was time to find out why his sister-in-law was concerned about his brother, T'Chaka.

Chapter 12 HERE.

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