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“It’ll only be an hour.”
That’s what K’uk’ulkan told him. When it comes to time spent with the Black Panther, it’s never an hour. Attuma’s well aware that his god-king lies a lot about his reasons for coming to Wakanda, but he doesn’t disrespect him. He sits in front of the citadel, overlooking the Golden City. It’s pretty at night. Night is usually when K’uk’ulkan comes to visit Shuri, for ‘diplomatic purposes’.
He’s glad he doesn’t have the hearing the Feathered Serpent God does. Whatever is going on in that citadel is either sacrilegious or a pitiful attempt to curry the princess’s favor for the hundredth time.
“Warrior?”
That voice.
He turns his head to the left. Okoye is standing there, wearing a red dress that hoists her breasts up. His eyes widen and he quickly looks away. What is she doing wearing something like that without giving him some sort of warning!? Where was her usual outfit? Or even that damn blue suit she wore during the battle?
Attuma clears his throat. “Warrior.”
“What in Bast’s name are you doing here?”
It still amuses him to no end that she can speak the mother tongue. Has she always known the Maya language, or did she learn it after their first encounter? If so, she’s quite smart to be able to speak it so fluently.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Mm, nope. I actually live in Wakanda. You’re a far way from Talokan.”
He sighs and gestures with his thumb behind him at the citadel, keeping his eyes forward and not on those curves. “K’uk’ulkan had a meeting with the Black Panther.”
Okoye steps back and stares up at one of the many glass windows. She shakes her head when she sees Shuri slap Namor’s hand away when he tries to touch her bottom. “ Inyoka, ” she laughs and Attuma finally looks at her.
“What’s that?”
“Snake. Come.” Okoy beckons him with her fingers. “Look at what your god-king is doing during this very important meeting.”
Attuma scrunches his brows together, then stands up. His loincloth and dark kilt sway gently as he takes heavy steps to join Okoye’s side. He follows her line of vision and sees a clear image of K’uk’ulkan holding Shuri by the hips. Whatever the god is saying, he’s laying it on thick. Attuma can tell by those tzul eyes, looking like a puppy dog the warrior has seen occasionally on the sands of a beach playing with a small green ball. He’s expecting Shuri to push him away, but he sees her face soften and give in. When they share a kiss, both Attuma and Okoye gasp. He feels her punching his arm repeatedly.
“Did you know about this!?”
“...Was it not obvious to you?”
“What?”
“Their attraction for one another.” When all Okoye does is blink, Attuma scratches the back of his thick neck. “I suppose only those who have experienced such passion in their lives can easily recognize it.”
The golden jewels on her wrists jingle when she puts her hands on her hips. “What are you trying to say!?”
He holds out his palms in self-defense. Although he doesn’t see a weapon, he knows she has one hidden somewhere. He’s not in the mood to fight. “Nothing, nothing! Clearly, you have someone who shows you passion. Why else are you dressed like that?”
Okoye glances down at her outfit as if she has forgotten what she’s wearing. “Oh, this is something I wore in Busan years ago. It’s the only dress I had in my closet and I needed it for a small party a friend was having.”
Attuma stares at her, silently, admiringly. The warrior is so petite, but so powerful. She reminds him of Namora, only more approachable and more…
Helplessly, his gaze rakes down to the hem of that lovely, lovely dress, then back up to her ample chest. Out of all the soldiers, he considers himself a first-class Talokanil. He has been avoiding the lusty chase within all Talokanil men to avoid being associated with the vulgar and third-class among them. But whenever he sees Okoye, well… he feels himself giving in to those natural desires.
“What was the party for?” Attuma manages to say despite his brain starting to short-circuit.
“I…filed for divorce from my husband.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
“I’m sorry.” He’s not sorry in the slightest. “Is everything alright?”
Okoye smiles at him, and it’s dazzling and bright. “Very much so. Long overdue. So…” She looks back up at the window. She doesn’t see anyone, and takes that as a sign that something more is happening inside that citadel. “Are you going to wait out here all night, or would you like to take a walk with me?”
“Take a walk?” Attuma repeats. It’s a foreign concept. The only time he has been on land is to kill someone - or attempt to. “Is that the same as taking a swim?”
“Yes,” she laughs. “Except we won’t be getting wet.”
“Don’t be so quick to assume.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing,” Attuma returns a laugh, nervously, from underneath his water mask. “I would enjoy taking a walk with you, warrior.”
They pass multiple planes on their walk, and Attuma is surprised to find out that Okoye has flown them before. He admits to driving the boat from the United States around until Namora told him to knock it off.
“I find your transportation highly interesting. I wonder if there’s a plane that can travel underwater.”
“Like a submarine?”
“A flying submarine.”
“I can always talk to Shuri and our engineers about it. That would give you the ability to fight in the sky like Namor.”
Attuma pauses hearing that name. “Why do you call him that? He is not your enemy.” She doesn’t pronounce it right, either, but he’s not about to tease her over that.
“It’s what I’m used to at this point. You call me ‘warrior’, don’t you?”
He rolls his eyes, knowing damn well she’s aware she does the same to him. “I know your name.”
She holds her chin up high as if that’s going to make her taller than him. Sometimes, she has a way of making him feel like the smaller one. “Then say it.”
“Say mine first,” he growls in a low tone back, and what happens next is a staredown for the ages.
A long moment of charged tension passes as he fails to work up the nerve to close the distance between them. Her lips look so soft and the way her jaw works as she swallows sends a thrill through him.
“Chaac damn it all,” he murmurs and thunders across the platform to her. He takes his mask off and the water splashes onto the floor. He has approximately five minutes before he’ll need to jump into the river.
He strokes the shells of her ears and presses his lips firmly against hers until she relaxes and melts into him. Heat builds up inside him, threatening to burst. Her breath catches in her throat and he breaks away, his calloused hands still caressing her smooth cheeks.
“Okoye,” he whispers. “Your name is Okoye.”
His hands slide down to her waist and tugs her toward him. She smells good, like fresh flowers and citrus. Her doe-like eyes have pupils dilated and taking him all in. She rewards him with a slow press of her lips against his this time. Her mouth is warm and he tastes the wine she consumed earlier at the divorce party. Her tongue teases at the seam and darts in as soon as his lips part. She holds his face as her lips conquer his, her chest pressed against his abs, letting him feel each rise grow less steady.
Attuma has kissed a few women, but no kiss has ever been this consuming. It’s a kiss from his equal, from his warrior. He allows her to devour him, enjoying being taken over for once. It makes him feel lighter.
Her hands settle on his chest after the kiss ends and she murmurs, “Attuma. Your name is Attuma.”
There’s a sudden coughing sound and the two release each other immediately. K’uk’ulkan is smirking at them devilishly, knowing exactly what they were up to and pleased with himself for ruining it.
“Please, don’t stop on my account. I saw you two from the window and figured Attuma would be needing water at some point before he dies. Here.”
The soldier catches the reusable bottle as Okoye hides her face in her hands. She recognizes that bottle. It’s Shuri’s. Attuma puts his mask back on and fills up the opening with water. Once he’s done, he screws the cap back and smiles at his god appreciatively.
“Thank you, K’uk’ulkan. I am going to resume putting my mouth on Okoye once I have inhaled a sufficient amount of oxygen.”
The Feathered Serpent God gives him the Talokanil open-palm greeting. “As you were. I am going to finish penetrating the princess. I will return in…thirty minutes to an hour? Okoye, how long do you think-”
“Just go!” The former general shouts and then mutters under her breath, “Shameless inyoka .”
Once the god is gone, Attuma drapes an arm around her shoulder. She’s pinching her nose bridge and he’s trying to catch his breath again as they resume their walk - preferably far, far away from the citadel and a little more private.